Fishing Creek 2008

Fishing Creek 2008
(From the Journal)
　

I pulled my two wheels into the parking space along Fishing Creek and turned the v-twin off. The roar of the heavy exhaust came to an abrupt halt. I sat on the cycle feeling the stiffness in my kneecaps from the long early June morning ride up from Clarion. The quaint sound of the moving stream was music to my ears. I got off the cycle and stared down at the creek. The pristine clear water flowed smoothly around all exposed rocks. Listening intently I could hear the riffling of water upstream within the dark shadows of overgrown trees and outreaching laurel. Songbirds were a welcome to the early morn. I took a deep breath of the morning air to clear my nostrils and head of diesel fumes and highway odors. There’s something about the crisp cool air rising off an early morning spring fed creek that gets my fishing blood excited.
I was taking off my leather chaps and jacket when Jeff pulled up in his pickup. He told me briefly how he did down on Spring Creek. How the Drakes were falling at night and he was catching fish within rod length reach that were rising around him. And then down on the Little J’ how fishing was and the cicada’s were starting their resurgence.

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Upstream we entered the water. The flat water moved slowly as our dry flies lay upon its surface. Few rises came in forms of dimples on the far side underneath drooping leafed tree limbs. We tied on a selection of different midges and dry flies in trying to get one of the picky fish to hit in the trophy trout section we were fishing. Our casts were easy, smooth and precise. Our flies fell to the water softly. The water was crystal clear so small diameter tippet and subtle landing of the flies was a must for dry fly fishing. Every time I was ready to move downstream to the faster water another fish would rise within distance of my casting ability. Time ticked away as late morning neared and with it the sun rose and shined warmer down upon us. Every once in a while a few big Green Drakes would drift by from upstream. I would watch, as motionless big Drakes would drift over earlier feeding trout. Maybe a look-see but not a picky trout would take it in. Downstream the big Drake fluttered its wings as if drying them before taking off. Wham, a hungry trout attacks and devours the Drake. A ring of small ripples extends out from the attack in the previous flat slow moving water. Trying big Drakes got to be useless though. Without the realistic fluttering wing movement the well-learned trout had no taste for the lifeless looking imitation in the clear water.
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I finally got bored and headed for the faster water. I knew there that the fish wouldn’t have time to check out the exact imitation. It’s a quick meal or it’s gone. As long as the silhouette, size and color shade is right I got a chance. They just won’t have time to check out the tippet or any other noticeable differences.
My first strike and hookup came against a small grass island near the far side. It was up from the shade trees still within sunlight as I watched my #14 dry move along the tops of a narrow fast run. A fish shot up and grabbed the dry. There’s no room for error fishing project water areas for spooky wary trout. You always have to be ready with a quick twitch of a wrist and taut line to hook into a speedy hit in fast water. You hesitate you lose and may not get another chance at the same fish. I admire my first catch, a small aggressive brook trout. He darts away as I release him from the hook.
I fish downstream as usual. I tie on a #12 dry for the faster shaded water. Drifting the fly nearest me first than out and across. At times I’d drift the fly down in front of me letting line out for the perfect drift. I neglect to enter the middle of the stream in fear of disturbing the water or giving myself away. From the bank I execute a sidearm backhand cast across my body. At the end of my forward cast I twitch the rod tip up and back. The fly arcs and lands in the slow back eddy under the laurel at the end of the fast run just below me. I know the fly would only be on the water for maybe 2 seconds before my fly line is pulled across and under. Nothing comes up after it so I quickly flip it out of the water and behind me. I cast again in the same area for assurance.
I move slowly out from the laurel feeling every obstacle beneath my wading shoes. Again, I try not to disturb the loose gravel. I cast to the far bank and hold the rod high. I drift the fly to the near side of a semi-fast run. I watch as a trout comes up out of nowhere, back finning, inspecting my fly. My line fingers holding the fly line tightly as my cork gripped right hand and wrist beg for action. In a split second I’m ready to set the hook, in a split second he disappears beneath the water without an attack.
Quarters are tight behind and above me. I must sidearm false cast up and down stream before shooting the fly across the creek. With a quick stop of the end of the rod will enable the smooth line to continue to run through the guides giving more distance. I overshoot the target to have time to loop the middle of the line upstream before the dry hits the flowing water. Watching the current start to take the fly beyond an exposed rock, I lift the rod up, moving the fly towards me and around the exposed boulder. Than I move the rod down again and forward giving line so the fly drifts naturally again. Around the boulder I anticipate a hook up in a likely lie. Nothing, I move downstream beyond the laurel. Fast water widens into a good size pool across the stream. Small waves riffle the surface water and collide upon the widen pool from the fast runs around exposed rocks above it. A soft breeze upstream brings a warm feel from the hot June sun above the overhanging shade trees from where I stand. I drift a #12 parachute dry upon the surface water a quarter way out. When it reaches the end of the outflow of the pool I roll cast it easily letting the breeze blow the fly up towards the top of the pool. Again the fly drifts erratically upon the uneven surface water.
At the far end of the pool I catch a glimpse of a shadow rise and submerge. I concentrate more on my next cast. I cast up from the shadow about half way up the pool to the far side. I loop the body of the line upstream and than feed and follow the fly with my rod for the perfect drift. Instantly within sight a fish ambushes the dry. I was already anticipating the catch. Hook set the rod bends as the trout finds room to fight towards the end of the pool. Rod high I keep the line taut between my line fingers and thumb. Moving my line hand forward letting the fish take line when I felt he needed to or pulling my line hand back behind me as he fights nearer to me. He only surfaces briefly as if to see whom fooled him. A dark yellow belly submerges and fights towards the far bank.

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“I’m breaking for lunch” Jeff calls to me from downstream.
“I got a nice one,” I yell back playing the fish in the knee deep water
“I’ll get the camera” he calls back
I slowly move downstream to a flat piece of dry land. From the shade trees I step out into the sunlight. I instantly feel the hot sun upon my bare arms. I play the trout gingerly while waiting for Jeff to come over with his camera.

We eat lunch along the stream on the tailgate of his truck. Salami, capicolla, pepperoni, dried olives, a beer you know?! Light reflex off the chrome on the front springs of the Softail. The warm sun penetrates my shirt and soothes my skin. I fall asleep in the lounge chair Jeff has set out.

After lunch and the power nap Jeff headed downstream as I walk upstream beyond where we started in the morning for some fresher water. There are more guys fishing the stream than I was aware of. I stepped into the creek downstream from where a few guys are fishing. Looking downstream 3 other men are wading and fishing upstream. I take a position in the middle of the creek and fish the log along the roadside bank. I watch the three guys fishing towards me. The guy fishing the far bank moves stealthy and with purpose. Casting underneath hanging pine boughs and to likely lies behind exposed rocks.
The other two splash their way along their side of the creek. One didn’t even cast at all but watched and coached where the other should try next. Neither caught trout underneath the afternoon sun.
I slowly fished downstream casting under overhanging fir trees. Steadily I wade downstream changing flies and drifting midges. I came to the shady bend I fished earlier. I pick off two more brook trout and a small brown on #14 dry. I fished it hard with anticipating on catching more but can’t produce any.
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Just before dark I met up with Jeff at the big deeper flat stretch we fished in the morning. Drakes filled the sky above us and a few appeared upon the water surface. The fish were still not excepting the imitations we had to offer but we continued trying to persuade them.

At about dusk I head to the cycle and packed up for the ride back home. I put a chew in my mouth and start the rumble of the V-twin. I beeped the horn as I passed Jeff in the stream with his L.L.Bean light up brimmed hat on. It didn’t take long as I cruised down the road to realize my adversity.

Big, big Green Drakes were flying upstream low. The road down to rte. 64 follows the stream within 20 feet in some areas. I was traveling in the opposite direction on my windshield-less cycle. Drakes literally cremated me from my leather du-rag to my leather boots. Big drakes splattered against my goggles making my vision as if looking through a stained glass window. They were so thick I was even afraid to turn and open my lips wide enough to spit!!

_________________~doubletaper

vapor 6wt. review

winston 6wt. vapor rod

i'm not one to give reviews of products, due to the fact i don't have the luxury to try many products, but this deserves exception.

i was looking for a 6wt. fast action rod for smallmouth fishing rivers in my float tube or canoe mostly. i wanted something quick enough to cast to pockets as i slowly floated down the river. i noticed there aren't a large selection of different lengths and flexes for 6 wts. as compared to 5's or 7's. i am partial to American made products as well as American companies. (i had my heart set on a winston anyhow). i selected the winston 6wt. vapor rod, 4pc. 9'. i would have liked a 9' 1/2" but that wasn't goimg to happen.

i used this rod a months ago on the shanandoah river for smallies and it performed greatly to my saisfaction! to cast poppers with my med/fast action 5wt. for smallies or med. 7wt. for largemouth, i would have to use a lob cast to get the popper 'out there'. this hampered my casting to get underneath low limbs and also restricted distance. with the soft flexable tip of the fast action vapor rod i do not have this problem. i can cast normally and with better acuracy and more distance. casting buggers and large flies, such as wulff, trude and humpy patterns, it does just as well.

most recently i used the vapor rod down on the clarion river. trout were rising next to shore in the high but clear water. i tied on a 6x tippet to my 9' leader and casted foam beetles and spider patterns. the tight loops got me to where the fish were with good distance and delicate lay downs. i picked up nice size browns and brookies without scaring the wary fish.

winston suggests to overline your rod 1 size heavier for bass fishing. the fish shop manag. suggested a gpx line, which is a 1/2" wt. heavier than a normal wt. line. i stuck with a gpx 6wt. floating line and i have no plans on overlining. the rod and line work well together.

well, that's the review. hope it may help any of you who are looking for a great 6wt. smallie rod to cast poppers, big flies and woolly buggers. oh, and foam beetles for river trout!

_________________________~doubletaper

9' on the Oswegatchie continued...

PA. Fishermen in the Adirondaks (part 6)
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9’ on the Oswegatchie continued (page 7)

June 14th

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I enter the river, just below the bridge, from the roadside from which we parked. I move cautiously and slowly as I am upriver from the flow of water between the island and stony bank to my right. With the sun still rising behind me on my left, it throws a shadow of the railed bridge upon the gradual flowing river water. Having years of experience, at times, I test myself when I’m on new waters. With no rises or hatches I plan my temptation in getting fish to rise on my first and succeeding casts. Looking over the situation I feel my #12 and #10 March Browns may spook the hidden trout more than attract them to the surface on the smoother flowing water. The #16 and #18’s might work but I feel that even the least wary well hidden trout might not rise to a small morsel. I decide to use a #14 dry. Now considering the conditions it should be much easier for the trout to see a darker shade, upon the water, against the bright blue sky background. I also figure, because of the hazards beneath the surface of the three to four feet of water, it would be easier for the tout to see a much fuller body than a quill body. I select a #14 Dark Cahill. Forever reason why, I’ve caught more trout on this pattern this year when few fish were rising compared to my usual Hendrickson patterns.
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I cast downriver to my right about 20 feet. I let line out so my fly floats drag free under a couple of leafy extended branches. A flash from the bank beneath tells me to be ready. I quickly pinch the fly line and raise my rod slowly to take up any slack left on the water. Quick to the surface a trout takes my imitation and I set the hook with a just-as-quick wrist set. I move my rod horizontal towards the bank and bring in the small brown. I don’t want to disturb the middle of the water or let the trout run wild scaring any others. I release the active 9” trout back into the water. My next cast, down the middle of the run of water, produces nothing. I then cast the Cahill just shy of a submerged thick tree limb lying against the island. A fish rises from beneath as my Cahill drifts by him. He follows the Cahill with sufficient room and slurps it under. Again I set the hook and produce another 9” brown stocky. Far to my left water runs over and around smaller rocks causing short falls and rippling water. I side arm cast and lay the Cahill just behind a bigger exposed rock in a smooth pool of water. Holding my rod up high I let the Cahill slowly drift into the small riffles behind. Wham! A trout swats at the Cahill like a brookie in a small native stream. Another quick wrist set and another trout falls victim. The fish turns down river but the 9’ rod pressure forces the trout to fight in an arc until it swims below me in the shin deep water. I bring in an 8” brown and release the hook from its top lip.
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I reach in my top shirt pocket and pull out the Red Man. Reaching in the pouch I pull out a good three finger quid of fresh chew. Looking downstream I don’t see any sign of Jeff. A woman cross river, standing on the far bank, is hooking into fish by casting a spinner into the white capped rolling water and letting it drift into the tail-out before reeling it in. Other than her I have the river to myself along with eager hungry stockers with fine sunny weather. I roll the chew with my tongue, spit and I’m ready for more action.
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I go back to fishing the run of water between the island and stony bank. I switch to spiders and beetle imitations and the stockies don’t seem to care much what I toss, they hit either. At the end of the island, where the run of water meets up with the wide section of the main body of water, I begin to work my way upriver along the island bank. I cast up into the small pockets of water behind exposed rocks picking up a few more small browns. I tie on a #12 March Brown and cast into the seam beside the faster moving river water that’s being channeled towards the far bank. Unexpectedly a fish attacks my fly but I’m late on the hook up. I cast enough times at him again to realize he wasn’t going to be fooled again. I slowly work the seam as I move down river.
Wham! A fish hit’s the March Brown as it swings my way, out from atop the fast water, across the seam. This time I’m ready and set the hook with a quick raise of the rod and wrist. He wants nothing to do with me and dives deep into the faster water. The 9 footer bends with the fish pressure and undercurrent. I angle my rod downriver and the fish follows the current and then arcs across the seam into the slower pool of water below me. He fights more aggressively then the 9 inchers I’ve been catching. He zigzags but I match his skills as I bring him in. the 11” brown has a little more color and thickness than the recent stockies. I unhook the fly in the corner of his mouth and he darts off beneath the water. I work the seam until it widens without another rise. I turn and cast into the slower water that runs along the island. I wade into the slower run between the island and stony bank but this time I’m casting upriver.

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I hear a voice and look up to see Jeff motioning “lunch time.” I hook the fly into the rod eye above the cork handle and climb the bank towards the vehicle.
At the vehicle we converse about our morning fishing as we lay out a spread of lunch meat, cheese, peppers and chips. Jeff opens up a bottle of LaBatts Blue and I uncap a bottle of Amber Bock. After the relaxing lunch we both light up two big imported cigars, Jeff brought along, as we put the food and fishing gear back into the Escape. A local guy parks his truck across the roadway and comes over. He talks about the musky and bass in the lakes. This gives Jeff and me a little longer time to enjoy our cigars before getting back into his wife’s new Escape.

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On the road again we head towards a couple New York wineries before entering back onto Pennsylvania soil.
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______________________~doubletaper
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Ps. Oh yeah, the wineries? ‘A picture is worth a thousand words’ as they say!!!

9' on the Oswegatchie

P.A. Fishermen in the Adirondaks (part 6)

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9 Foot on the Oswegatchie (page 6)

June 14th
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Early Sunday morning, Heading towards Lake Placid from Wilmington, the Ausable flowed with good color and the water level dropped considerable over night. The sun was rising behind the mountains and brightened the light blue sky as cotton candy clouds filled the sky above the ski slopes. A few vehicles were already parked along the roadside as anglers prepared to try their luck. I tried talking Jeff into staying one more day but….
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Outside of Lake Placid we turned on rte. 3 back the way we came on Thursday. Each lake we passed had boaters on the waters. We finally reached Cranberry Lake and found the dam in which we would fish below. To our surprise the water that spouted out of the dam was the beginning of the Oswegatchie River. The same river we crossed over about three times on our journey to the Ausable.
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I stood on the bridge, below the dam, and looked over the water. Clear crisp water exited the dam area and rolled over the stony and rocky bottom towards the bridge in which I was standing on. A small grassy island laid to my left, nearest the bridge, that separated the water. A nice stream of water ran against the roadside bank but because of the incline and trees it would be tough for anyone to fish it.
On my right, looking towards the dam, big boulders were placed, lining the river, in an attempt to keep the more level land behind from eroding. Water ran between these boulders and created a very large pool of water that extended to the far bank. The pool looked to be a foot or so deep for the most part. Though shallow, what this large pool did offer was shade from trees along the bank from the rising sun. Already I noticed an occasional dimple in the pool from sipping trout.
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The undaunted waters that flowed below the dam funneled beneath the bridge and took on a different outlook downriver of the bridge. From under the bridge water flowed in half-hazard, white water tipped waves, over boulders and strewn out rocks. As the riverbed widened water rushed over near surface submerged boulders causing waves to collide creating rough water. There were no consistent calm pool areas, between these swells, that would not soon be overrun with more breaking waves causing more uncontrollable rough water. The main part of the river seamed to funnel towards the left bank leaving more controlled water to flow around and dip between exposed boulders and rocks to the middle right of the center of the river. An island laid to the right of the exposed boulders which separated the water flowing from under the bridge. This left a stream, about 20 feet wide, between the island and mass of round rocks that were stacked up the right inclined bank up to the road. This small section of water was hazardous to any submerged bait caster or spin fishermen because of the submerged drift wood and downed branches below the surface. But a dry fly drifted upon the water surface should take on a less hazardous path and maybe causing a hungry trout to expose itself into taking a top water morsel.
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Before walking back to the vehicle I looked upriver once more and picked out where I’d make my first stand. Back at the Escape, Jeff already had the hatch open and was gearing up for the morning cast. Being that I wanted to relax, from the onslaught of water we had dealt with the day before, I let the 8’6” med-fast Scott rod lay on the floor and reached for the aluminum rod tube. The 9 foot Damon Ausable rod would be my weapon of choice for the day. The medium action will let me slow down and relax my casting stroke. Knowing I’ll not need much finesse in the wide open river, the rod will give me smooth long casts with more delicate presentation. I took my streamer and nymph fly box out of my vest and laid them upon the floor. The morning will be a dry fly only day!
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Poised on a secured exposed boulder, aside the fast moving water of the bottom release dam, I tie on a March Brown Haystack. I notice the morning sun is not completely over the tree tops behind me. Their branches reach skyward as the leaves waver in the slight morning breeze laying their shadows upon the slow large pool. Before me water runs quickly down the center of the river and stretching out to the far unreachable bank. I pull out fly line and my fly gradually pulls with downstream force, below to my left, giving me line tension and extension for my lifting back-cast. Stating my back-cast the fly lifts off the water and I watch as the medium action rod flexes. Behind me I feel the rod load and wait for the right extension before beginning my forward cast. I watch as the loop unfolds in mid-air. Just before touching down I flip my wrist up and to my right throwing a mend upriver before the fly hits the water. The fly lands on the water and drifts quickly upon its surface before my fly line. After my third drift through I see a rise, in the crease, on my side of the fast run. I take line in and loop cast my fly down river from where I stand. I let line out with my line hand to keep a smooth drift of the dry. The glare on the water surface makes it tough to see my fly but the quick splash is more visible. I pull back on the rod and first fish on! I easily coax the trout out of the fast current and step off the boulder. A smile comes to my face as I unhook the 7” brown from the fly hook.
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Up on the boulder again I drift the haystack and again hook into another small brown. To get a better visual of my fly I tie on a March Brown parachute with a distinct brown rib. On the second cast and drift an eager trout raises, splashes, and takes my fly under. Somewhere in the middle of all this my reactions pull back and set the hook. The trout heads deep into the faster current. Being quite higher than the trout I angle my rod to my left to put pressure on the fish from the side. My rod flexes into the middle and gradually straightens as the trout is forced out of the deep undercurrent following the rod pressure. After a couple of quick jolts by the fish, that again flexes the rod, the trout becomes easier to bring to hand. I release a nice 12” brown.
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I notice some rises beneath the shade of the trees upon the slow pool of water. I knot on a piece of 6x tippet. To this I tie a #16 silver ribbed Blue Quill. The first cast produces a rise and hook up. For the next hour I play 'spot casting' with the Blue Quill and a #16 Dark Cahill. I’m patient and only cast to rising trout around the large pool and those rising along the crease of the faster run. It’s relaxing and rewarding with many more hook ups than misses. As time passes the sun makes its way over the previous shaded area and makes it tougher to get the trout to rise to my dries. I decide to move down below the bridge.
___________To be continued…………
_________________________~doubletaper