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!!!