Wednesday, June 30, 2021

The Gorilla Saved the Day

 

The Gorilla Saved the Day

6/07/2021


 After a quick oatmeal breakfast and a couple of cups of coffee I drove upriver from camp. The kayak was packed for the days adventure. My plan was to kayak and fish for smallmouth back to camp. I figured about 2 miles would be sufficient. It may not sound like very far but fishing it takes longer in time.

  I pushed off before 8:00am. The sun was already casting shadows on the water as its rays filtered through the green leafy forest that lined the banks. The river was still high but clearing up some from the heavy rain from late the past week. I figured if the fish couldn’t see much for food over the weekend, because of the muddy water, they might hear a surface popper in the lightly stained chocolate color water today.

  I paddled straight across the river close enough to cast poppers out from the shaded boulder strewn bank. It didn’t take long for my first take. A bass surfaced for my orange/yellow popper and I hooked him cleanly.

  There was a riffle just out from the bank. I made a cast and watched the popper lay down on the wavy riffles. A few gurgling pops and I watched it bounce and flow with the subtle waves. A splashing rise to the popper and I whipped the rod back to set the hook. The fish scurried about with head shakes. I was surprised when I netted a fine looking rainbow trout that took the popper.


 

 After releasing the trout, upon my next few casts, something didn’t feel right when I was casting. I wasn’t getting the distance I was hoping for and the line didn’t appear to come out of the guides smoothly. I looked at the tip top eye of the Winston 9’ rod and the eye was not in line with the rest of the guides. I took a hold of the eye and it twisted but did not come off. I was glad I didn’t go too far downstream from my truck. I paddled over to the bank, got out of the kayak with the rod, and went to the truck.

  I actually just got it back from Winston last fall to repair a break at the first eye from the butt section. I might have used it once or twice since then. Now here I am repairing it the best I could to continue my journey. I took out Gorilla duct tape and taped the tip top eye securely. I got back into the kayak and hoped it would hold up.


 

  I was back on the water and fishing. I dropped the anchor most of the time while drifting to slow the kayak in the current. At times I would ground the kayak along the bank and wade fish. The smallmouth weren’t shy about taking the popper off the surface.


 

  I did notice they were a lot darker this year.

  A bright color popper on the surface seemed to make the smallies rise more often than a darker colored one.

 

 With the water being higher I caught more smallies out mid-river in deeper water than along the banks. I may have not caught any big husky ones but the ones I caught were still a challenge getting them to the kayak with the higher and stronger current at times.


 

  Well, the Gorilla tape held up and I caught enough smallies to keep me encouraged throughout the float. With a pocket full of cigars, a few granola bars and a tumbler of water made the whole float worth while the time spent.

 

Back at camp, for dinner, I made myself venison sausage filled tacos in soft wheat tortillas

 

 Nightfall I got a campfire going. I relaxed with a good RP Broadleaf and a cold brown ale.


 

This retired life is all right!!!

~doubletaper

 

 

Sunday, June 20, 2021

Spring Creek Carnival

 

Spring Creek Carnival

6/11/2021


  Being that the Clarion River, where I was camped, was a chocolate mess in the morning I was still determined to go fishing. I ate a quick oatmeal breakfast and filled my travel mug with coffee. My intentions were to hit Black Moshannon Creek Delayed Harvest waters. When I got service on my phone I checked to see what the difference was to Spring Creek in Central PA. There was only a minute difference in time of arrival. As much as I love small cricks, Spring Creek was a no brainer. Both have wild trout but I was in for more open waters.

  On the drive east I was driving through a rain shower that I had thoughts of turning around. The sky Eastward looked cloudy but brighter so I just kept on going.

  I pulled in the parking area around 8am. There was a light misty rain and the sky was stone gray above. The water wasn’t chocolaty at all. Maybe a little on the high side but looked very fishable. I was ready to try and fool some wild trout! I knew that trying to hook and net these picky wild trout would test my skill level like skittle ball under the arcade tent.

  Because of the misty rain I took out my ole’ SAS Scott rod. I use it whenever there is inclement weather trout fishing. Not that I’m afraid to use my other rods, it’s just what I do. I took a couple of cigars, put on my vest and put on a light rain jacket and headed to the water.

  The greenery was thick along the path as I made my way upstream along the crick. I went cautiously not wanting to get the 8 1/2’ rod tangled up or rip my waders on some unseen sticks or jaggers. I took my time like walking through the corridors of an amusement park fun house not knowing what’s around the next corner.

  Of course I started with a couple of Woolly Buggers and within an hour caught a colorful fat rainbow. 


 

  I saw one caddis flutter across the crick so, since I wasn’t too productive underneath, decided to dry fly fish even though I didn’t see any trout rising.

  My one cast was on the far side of a wavy riffle. When my caddis imitation drifted in the open dead zone, left by an exposed boulder which caused the riffle, a trout took it as if he’s been waiting for breakfast to show up anytime. I snapped my wrist back and played another colorful rainbow to the net.


 In the next hour or so I tried top wtaer, nymphs, streamers and even wet flies as if I was trying every carnival booth playing to win a prize. I caught one small brown on an emerger pattern and another nice brown trout that gave me a battle of wits in the strong current.


 

 By now the rain stopped and the sun began to appear between the cotton clouds on rare unexpected occasions like a balloon clown to cheer up an unhappy child. It brightened up the sour day for a time being. With the sun out a few more caddis started to show up and fluttered about like loose strands of cotton candy in a slight breeze. I hadn’t caught anything in some time before I spotted my first rise.

  Across crick I saw a tail of a brown trout cut through the surface in the shallow water. It wasn’t much later, not that far away, another trout rose at the end of a small wavy current. As I was tying on a caddis I glanced up and noticed another rise a little further behind the first. I wasn’t sure if there were three, two or maybe only one trout moving around like someone at the cookie tables in the bakery tent, but I was determined to get me one.

  I couldn’t see anything on the surface so I figured they were sipping small midges. I didn’t have anything that small with me except a #18 caddis. For the next half hour or so I tried to get them to rise to my offerings but they wanted nothing I had to offer. They would take something off the surface right next to my dry at times but ignored my dry like a partially eaten cookie on a cookie tray. As they kept rising to whatever, kind of got me frustrated. I waded out of the water and went back to my truck like a sore loser that lost money and got a sore arm trying to tip over three clowns in a row at the ball toss booth. I did have one more hope I was relying on. At the truck I grabbed my midge box and a small box of small Adams.

  In the same section of water I was before I knotted on a section of 6x tippet and to that a #20 parachute Adams. There wasn’t any trout rising but I was going to see if I could make one rise anyhow.

  In the same feeding area I threw out #20 and #18 Adams. I tried #20-#18 BWO’s and one might have been a #22 midge of some kind. Not one trout rose and it was if I was wasting my time trying to get one out of 12 rings around the neck of a bottle to win a knife.

  It was past 2:00 and I was planning on leaving around 3:00. I gave up and knotted on a couple of nymphs and decided to work my way downstream. When I got straight across from the third riser earlier he rose again to something. I figured I’d give it one more shot. Maybe he saw me wade down a bit and wanted to tease me one last time before I left again in frustration.

  I knotted on a #18 tan caddis and checked behind me for any hanging branches not to get caught on my back cast. I took out line and figured I’d drop the caddis right on top of his head. My caddis fell maybe 6” shy of where I saw him rise last. The caddis didn’t drift more than 12” when I saw a trout quickly following my offering downstream. When he grabbed it I was ready to set the hook. The teasing was over. He was fighting a tight 5 weight DT line, a 5 weight 8 ½ foot SAS fly rod and me! He fought in the current swimming every which way but loose. Trying to bring him towards me, in the strong current, was like trying to hold onto a bunch of helium balloons with one hand while walking against gusts of wind. I was happy enough hooking him even if he would have gotten off but I netted him safely.

  

 His dark black spots shown like glossy onyx stone against his brownish body. His belly was a pecan shell shade. A perfect specimen, in my opinion, of a stream bred brown trout. Whether he was stream bred I’m not sure but he didn’t turn that wild looking just over a few years.

  After letting him go I waded and fished downstream as happy as winning a big stuffed animal at the milk can tossing game at the county fair and smoking a fat stogie! 

~doubletaper
 

 

 

 

Thursday, June 17, 2021

Muddy Water

Muddy Waters

                                                             Persistence Pays Off

6/15/2021


He exploded out of the muddy water at my popper like a crocodile out of muddy water after a young zebra! 

 I got tired of casting the 6 weight Winston rod for the past week and decided to take the 5 weight Allen Icon rod. I still used the mid arbor 6 weight reel/line because it already had heavier leader on it. What a world of difference in weight it made casting all day.

  The Clarion River was still high and muddy from the storm the afternoon before. Maybe the visibility was a foot or so below the surface near shore but I definitely couldn’t see any submerged boulders or hazards out in the main flow. The only way to tell of the hazards was by the small riffles that would appear as the water flowed over them. Even so, I came camping along the river to fish and not sit around all day and pout. I figured I’d give it a try wade fishing and using surface poppers that the noise might bring a fish to the surface.

  To make a long story short after about 4 hours and 3 different parts of the river I only raised one out of the muddy water and it surprised me. I missed the hook set. I did try streamers a few times but didn’t have any takers so I headed back to the camper. I wasn’t frustrated though. I figured with the dirty water it would be tough going. A few cigars and the quietness of the forest kept me content.

  It was about 2:30 when I got back to the camper. I decided to wade and fish from the camper down river to some point. The water had cleared up a little but it didn’t appear the water level was dropping much.

  As I fished down river I waded out far enough to just about thigh high water. This was so I could cast towards the far bank as possible which really wasn’t even close. I spent about a half hour casting poppers and streamers without a strike. It was a fruitless adventure so far like going out to the orchard and not seeing any fruit whats-so-ever, just buds. I lit another Backwoods, knotted on a popper and continued on.

  Each cast I gurgled the popper strongly as soon as it hit the water a couple times or so. I would let it drift in the slow current some and then pop it again a couple of times. Near the end of the drift I would strip it back towards me with long strips and do it all over again as I waded down river.

  I stopped and stood up to my crotch in the river casting to both sides and down river. I was in an area I had made a few smallmouth rise the past week before the water got muddy. I had a little more hope where I was and decided to stay put for a longer time. I made a long cast to my left and down river some. As soon as the popper hit the surface I gave it a couple of hard gurgles and let it drift. A couple more gurgles and WHAM!! A smallmouth exploded up out of the muddy water at my popper like a crocodile out of muddy water after a young zebra. The bass came clear out of the water. His fat belly was quite noticeable in the air and looked as if he just came from the Chinese buffet and I was offering dessert. He barreled back into the water with an audible entrance and water sprayed in all directions. I didn’t know if he had gotten my popper but I dropped the rod tip and then yanked the rod up and back. The fly line shot out of the water and tight lined towards the fish. He took the popper deep and hastily swam down river like a croc taking its catch deep to drown and kill it. Fly line sped through the guides and the mid arbor clicked rapidly as the spool spun. I held onto the cork handle with two hands keeping the rod high trying to keep as much fly line out of the water as possible. I wasn’t sure where the bass was taking my dessert but he wasn’t stopping. I looked down at the spool now and then just to see if it was down to my backing. After he did slow down he turned up river and slowly, tugging some, started to swim up towards the far bank. I started to reel in line, under tension some, but quickly let him take line at will. I was using 2x leader and 3x tippet so I wasn’t worried too much about my leader/tippet breaking. He evidently had a good hold of my popper by the force he put on the hook set when he took off down river. All I had to do now was get him to me but I knew it wasn’t going to be any time soon.

  He was still quite a distance away down to my left and out a ways when he turned down river again. Not with the speed he swam with when I first hooked him but with enough force he took tensioned line from the reel. He swam straight down river from me and gave a few yanks to make sure I was still hanging on. I gave a few yanks back to let him know I was! He started to swim to my right keeping his distance but I was able to reel in some line.

  About 20 yards to my right, and back a few, was a thick branched limb sticking up out of the water. I wasn’t sure if it was attached to a tree trunk or how far it extended underneath but I didn’t want the bass anywhere near it. As he was swimming up to my right I waded down river some to get further away from the limb. I could see my leader out of the water now so I knew he must be in shallower depth. I kept the rod facing down river though the top section was bowed down to my right. He didn’t swim much further before he turned down river with the current. I could feel in my grip he was coasting with the current then actually swimming with speed faster than the current. He was a weighty fish to try to turn so I let him swim with the current keeping the rod up and under pressure. He didn’t try to distance himself from me and just swam in an arc straight down from me. With that I could tell he wasn’t as forceful and I felt I could start bringing him in. I moved the arcing rod to my left and kept pressure on him not giving him any line. I had the butt in my gut and started to slowly reel in line. He kept a good distance from me but I was gaining leverage and he started to come nearer. Out a ways I saw a glimpse of him just below the surface. His dark olive body looked stretched out a ways to his wide tail. He looked as if he was in cruising mode. I moved the rod to put more side pressure on him and he evidently didn’t like that and turned down river but I didn’t give him much line. He turned again towards me and I thought he was going to run into me. I had my net out already and he was moving so swiftly I thought we were going to get tangled up. I lifted the rod as high as I could and couldn’t reel in line because I was holding the net. I didn’t want to let go of the net cause I had to keep it from getting snagged on the leader. He swam to my right and I swung in his direction. I thought he was going to go around me but he swiftly turned and even came closer on my right but deep enough I wasn’t sure where he was except for looking at the leader. I kept my net out of the way and he swam down from me and to my left as I turned looking down river. He kept deep and I kept an eye on the leader to kind of tell where he was. If someone was watching it probably looked like we were doing some kind of square dancing. He finally got tired of being so close and swam away a bit as I lowered the rod without giving him line. My arm was getting sore anyhow keeping it up so long and under a lot of pressure. I turned to face the far bank and extended the rod out towards it. He swam accordingly. I had the net dangling in the water from my belt so I was able to take in some line without holding the rod way up in the air before I needed to. I had enough line in that only a foot of the fly line still extended out of the tip top of the 9 foot rod. I had the rod angled slightly up from the water and grabbed my net. As I lifted the rod, gripping the line tightly between my finger and cork, he drew closer and closer. When he got near he surfaced with some splashes. This caused less pressure from him being in the stronger undercurrent and I took the chance to guide him across the surface and into the net. Mission accomplished.!!! 

  

 The popper was embedded inside his mouth. It didn’t take very long to get the hook out once I got the hemostats positioned. He even was cooperative and didn’t fuss much while I was examining and extracting the hook.

  

 I lipped him and released him into the muddy water and he swam away freely.

  

 I looked at my watch and it was near 3:00. I spit out the Backwoods and lit up a much better cigar. I nipped off the cap with the cigar cutter I have attached to the lanyard around my neck and took a quick whiff of the outer wrap of the Sancho Panza Valiente before lighting it up.


 

I fished for another half hour out in the river before I saw a few fish rising near the mouth of a creek. I waded out and walked back to the camper to get my trout stuff. I changed reels to my 5 weight and went back to the mouth of the creek. It wasn’t easy getting the trout to cooperate but with a couple of convincing dries, a wet fly and an emerger I did manage to net a few.


 


It was getting late and I was pretty hungry and called it quits for the day.

I grilled up some venison short rib chops and potatoes. Had a cold Amber to go along with dinner. 


 


  And what a way to end a 14 day camping/fishing trip than by a campfire enjoying a beer and smoking a genuine Cohiba Habana Cuban cigar?!


 

~doubletaper


 


 

Thursday, June 10, 2021

A Rainbow and a Lucky 13

 

A Rainbow and a Lucky 13.

6/08/2021


 After 3 hours in a misty morning rain, in a kayak, I decided to key on trout. I only hooked 2 smallmouth on poppers and missed 1.


 

 The water was still on the high side but was clearing up nicely. The smallies just didn’t appear to be too hungry. I was glad I didn’t park too far down river. I loaded up the kayak into the bed of my truck and headed back to camp.

  Back at camp I took off my waist waders and put on my chest waders. I put the 6 weight Winston away and switched to trout fishing and use my 5 weight Icon Rod. I thought I made sure I put everything I needed back in my vest for trout fishing. I ate a couple of granola bars while driving upriver.

  Where I entered the river the wavy water was swift. The water color was that of a light brown ale. I was still able to see some of the darker boulders that covered the river bottom though the water did look quite deep. I knotted on a Woolly Bugger and added weight to the leader. In about a half hour I only managed one rainbow. It didn’t look like today was going to be a very good trout or smallmouth activity day.

  I waded down river casting bugger as I went. In the next couple of hours I hooked up to 3 decent rainbows and 2 small smallmouth bass. The one bass tore up my brown bugger and that’s when I realized I forgot my bugger box. When the one 13” rainbow tore the palmered hackle off my dark olive bugger I was down to 1 white bugger, `1 beaded light olive bugger, 1 more dark olive bugger, 1 Triple Threat and 1 White Death streamer. When the sun finally appeared through the overcast cloudy sky I was hoping for a hatch of some kind but nothing was happening on the surface. I did try a couple of dry flies but no trout rose to investigate. Maybe the trout just weren’t that hungry but it was just after noon and the feeding frenzy might just be over anyhow.

  I had went a good piece downriver before returning where I caught a couple of trout. I knotted on my last and only beaded light olive bugger and waded out just below my knees to get away from the big Maple hanging leafy branches. I lit a cigar to pass the time and started casting near to further out letting the bugger swing with the wavy current. One long cast, across river, dropped the bugger just this side of another wavy run. I watched the fly line pull my bugger with the current flow paying attention to my grip around the cork for any indication of a grab. Almost at the end of the swing, with the fly line just barely in a slight arc, I felt a bump but not hard enough to set the hook. I let the bugger settle in the current and something grabbed it hard enough I yanked the rod up and back. The long length of fly line shot up out of the water like a water ski towing rope when the driver guns the boat engine. Water sprayed from the line and the line drew taunt. I could feel the weighty hold on the end of the line as the rod tip angled downriver without any give. After a couple of quick hard head shaking tugs the fish headed across river. I wasn’t sure if I had a smallmouth or a trout but whatever it was I knew it was big despite the oncoming current.

  He stopped across from me holding deep. When I moved the rod upstream he tugged and swam downriver taking line and abruptly turned into the current after another hard tug. There he fought like a cornered animal trying to get a chance to get free. The line and rod bounced like a bungee jumpers cord at the end of its elasticity over and over again. I moved the rod out in front of me and took in line as he headed upriver just below the surface. I watched as his long body swam right in front of me just out a ways. I knew then I had a decent size rainbow. I lifted the rod and took in some line. He began to move closer. I knew I would have a hard time getting this long fellow into my net so I started to cautiously back step towards the bank. He continued to head shake but when he got in the shallower water he pulled and darted outward. I could feel the forcefulness in the bending rod so I let him take tensioned line out of the reel again. He turned downriver quickly so I waded the shoreline with him keeping the rod in a good arc. His tail swatted surface water as he rose and then darted back into deeper water. He suddenly rose again and his mouth surfaced with jarring head shakes. I could see my bugger stuck in the side of his mouth hoping it wasn’t going to shake loose. I wasn’t sure if this guy was ever going to give up but I held the handle grip tightly like a mountain biker heading downhill over a rough stretch of trail.

 I moved the rod down and towards the bank. He slowly swam towards the bank. I was in shin deep water. I moved the rod upstream out away from me and again he followed the pressure. I took in line and had the net ready trying to hold the rod up and steady with one hand. When he started to pass me I held the rod up higher and he started to swim closer. I took a few steps back. He forced his way downstream a bit as he would not swim any closer. I could feel the big arc in the rod sections as I moved the 9’ fly rod towards the bank. He didn’t have the muscle enough to swim out from the shallow water. I reached down and had to more or less push him with my net in the shallowest water near the bank. What a relief when I finally had him in the net. Half in the net, he laid still long enough for me to yank the hook from his mouth as if pulling a tooth from a young child. He flopped a couple of times before he settled down.

  

After a couple of pictures I released him and he swam away into the current.


 

 It wasn’t long after that I heard thunder in the distance. It rumbled like an amateur team night at the local bowling alley. I looked up and the distant dark gray sky was moving into the white clouds. I headed up river to cross not wanting to be on the opposite side of the river of where my truck was parked. I caught 2 more rainbows in the 11” range in a misty rain. When I heard a gust of wind rattling the tree branches and leaves I headed for the truck.

I popped open a Lucky 13 beer and drank it while I took down the rod and put my gear away. 


 

  I couldn’t wait to get out of my waders. Thinking about that, I was in waders for some 9 hours. First in the kayak and then wading the river for trout!

  I came to the conclusion a long time ago having worn different brands of waders. Some company tells you their waders are comfortable they are telling a fib. Some might fit a little better than others but they aren’t comfortable. Let’s face it, you’re not going to put them on, instead of a pair of jeans and a T’ shirt, just to leisurely wear them for the day.


~doubletaper

 

Sunday, June 6, 2021

A Day Live'n The Dream

 

A Day Live’n The Dream

6/02/2021

  

 Early morning I’m pulling into an open site along the Clarion River in the Allegheny National Forest. It’s not a quick chore getting the camper put and stuff organized so there’s no use in trying to hurry. After I get the camper and site settled I drive up and get a stack of wood. On the way back to camp I fill up two water jugs from the mountainside spring. Back at camp I stack the wood while pumping water in the fresh water tank. 


 

By now it’s near noon. I make a lunch while having another beer. After lunch it’s time for a much needed nap.

3:30 rolls around and I’m ready to go fishing. The river is calm and quiet. The slow water and current produces nothing. I drive upriver to find faster water flow.


  I catch a few rainbows and brown trout on Woolly Buggers. I switch to dry flies and make a few trout rise. They flop around in the net. A misty rain develops under the gray blue sky. I catch one more brown trout and call it quits.



 
 

 Back at camp I grill a thick venison steak seasoned with Montreal Steak Seasoning. For the sides I have spinach, with chopped onions, and applesauce and I got myself a meal. I wash it down with an imported smooth Czech Pilsner.

  

 After dinner I get a fire going and for dessert, kind of, I have a Porter and peanuts. 


 

  Later on for a night cap I take a few nips of the Devil’s Cut bourbon and chase that down with a Moose head lager. I relax by the campfire smoking a Nico Puro Rosado Robusto with my feet propped up on the fire ring rocks. I listen to drops of rain tapping the big oak and maple leaves again and again as they fall and drip from under the dark pale sky.

 Life is good,

 

~doubletaper