New
York Browns
11/13/2021
(No,
the Browns aren’t moving to NY)
It’s
been a slow week catching brown trout in the tributaries of Lake
Ontario. What I’ve heard us three weren’t the only ones and those
who fished the other tributaries hadn’t had many hook ups either.
This was our last day before heading home so I had one more chance of
having a better day than the past 5 days. I did catch one nice fat
brown Friday morning and I thought it was going to be a better day
then but it turned out not so.
We
arrived at the creek before daylight like we have been all week.
Waking up at 4 – 4:30am each morning and fishing all day takes a
toll on the body but we were still ready for some fishing. It’s not
that we think the fish are all of a sudden going to feed at daybreak
as if some hunger strikes them at that time but the real reason is to
get a spot to fish before other anglers show up. Being it was a
Saturday we expected more anglers than during the week.
This
morning it was a bit colder and raining. Besides that it was a little
more windy also. I had left my gloves at the cottage which wasn’t a
good thing to do. It didn’t take long for my wet fingers to get so
cold during the morning that made it tough to change and tie on
another sucker spawn. I could squeeze the spawn between my finger and
thumb but I really couldn’t feel it. Getting the tippet through the
hook eye wasn’t the problem as much as trying to get the tag end
through the loops when I tried tying an improved clinch knot. In
other words, even though I wasn’t hooking up, I wasn’t changing
patterns that often. I like using my tied sucker spawn cause when A
fish mouths it the fibers get caught in their small teeth. They have
a hard time shaking the spawn loose which gives me a little more time
to feel the bite and set the hook. I’ve actually watched this
happen on occasion.
Bob,
Gene and I got to our spots just before sunrise, though the sun was
nowhere in sight. I noticed there was already a few anglers down
across from Bob and Gene when it was light enough to see down their
way. No one was across from me for sometime.
During
the past 5 days it was mostly like that. Anglers would drop down off
the bank across from me and not fish it any longer than an hour or so
I’d say. A few would hook up on occasion with a brown trout or a
King but most of the time no one was hooking up and was snagging the
creek bed most of the time.
Around
8:30am I finally got my first hook up. I could tell it wasn’t a big
fish but it was a brown. When I hooked up I whistled down creek until
Bob heard me and looked my way. He brought the net up and we netted
the smaller brown trout pretty easily. It wasn’t big at all but I
wanted to get a picture with it anyway being I didn’t know how the
day was going to go. Through the days past it seamed we were hooking
up to less fish each day.
Well
seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours without any
hook ups as the morning turned into afternoon. I think Bob may have
hooked up a couple of times and so might have Gene. I was
concentrating more on my fishing then watching what was going on
downstream. The guys across from Bob were having a beach party
drinking and carrying on like a group of guys on a sports team. Every
once in a while one would wade out and fish but wasn’t out too long
before joining his buddies again.
Around
noon the sun finally poked itself out between the gray clouds and
warmed the day up a bit. My fingers had a little more feeling in them
though it felt like I was gripping sand paper over the cork handle
cause my hands were so dry. I did have a couple of quick hits but the
hook popped off as quick as the second sneeze. Since we weren’t
catching anything for some time after that we decided to go down
creek a bit and try another spot.
The
row of people that were fishing that area earlier in the morning had
vacated and evidently went elsewhere. Except for a few stragglers on
the other side of the creek we had the water to ourselves. We weren’t
doing much better with hook ups and we took turns sitting along the
bank enjoying some relaxation and the little warmth from the sun.
Gene finally spoke up and was going up to fish the area I’ve been
fishing the past 5 days. That ended up being the best idea he had all
week. (Sorry Gene)
Gene
headed up that way by himself while Bob and I stuck around where we
were at. By the time we caught up with Gene he had said he caught one
brown trout and landed it himself. We’ve been teasing each other
all week so I still don’t know if he really did catch a brown or
not before we arrived but I wasn’t doubting his word. Bob waded out
up above Gene and didn’t take too long to hook up with a brown
also. Bob noticed that most of the brown trout we were catching and
being caught were females. He commented because of the shiny types of
flies we were using and of course females loves beads which Bob and
Gene were also using. ‘Good point’ I thought!
During
the week I saw a few anglers stop across creek from me and caught a
few browns or kings on occasion. I decided to cross the creek and
fish from the other side. As they say “the grass always looks
greener on the other side”. The water was flowing with good current
in some areas but nothing too strong as I crossed the creek. Where I
did cross the water never came up to my waist so I felt safe. I got
myself situated and started fishing across from Gene but there was
plenty of water between us that we didn’t hamper each other in our
casts. I think Bob hooked up one more time before it was my turn.
Most
of the time I was casting just out in front of me 15 feet or so and
letting my sucker spawn drift with the current. Every once in awhile
I noticed an old king salmon swim by right in front of me. Every once
in a while one would splash water up from me before an uprooted stump
and also there were splashes down creek from me just out from a
downed tree trunk that laid just out from the bank. It was getting
near 3pm by then and I was getting desperate. So desperate I started
drifting my offerings where I figured the kings were hanging out or
moving through. I wanted to battle a fish and I didn’t care at the
time what it was. I’d cast upstream and let the imitation sucker
spawn drift in front of me and down creek a bit. At times I would
pull up on the indicator, after it drifted down from me, and let my
offering flow with the slower current just out from the down tree
trunk. On one occasion, down creek out from the down trunk, my line
started to move towards the middle of the creek. I tugged a little
harder to make sure I had a good hook set and the fish surfaced
briefly in the middle of the creek just downstream from me. I was
able to see it looked like a brown trout before it went deep. I
called out “fish on” to let Bob know I had a hook up. He waded
out from upstream, grabbed the net, and walked along the path along
the bank downstream. I was on the opposite bank without a net so I
knew I’d have to either cross the creek or Bob would have to. The
bank on the other side wasn’t as steep so my intentions were to
cross the creek. While all this thinking was going on I was fighting
this brown trout which more than not battled with me in the middle of
the creek, rising at times and tail splashing water. Bob was on his
way across the creek towards my side. Since the trout was fighting me
in the middle of the creek I told Bob let’s see if you can net him
within the middle of the creek. I angled and maneuvered the fly rod
as to force the trout towards Bob who stood in the middle of the
creek. I figured the brown trout had no idea what we were up too and
didn’t realize Bob was where he was. When the trout was just
upstream from Bob I let some looser line slip through the guides and
the trout swam right into the waiting net. We both headed to Bobs
side of the creek so I could get a good look at my catch and get a
picture with her.
Well,
that one made me feel much better. I lit up my last cigar for the day
in celebration. I crossed the creek again and fished across from Gene
once more in the same fashion as before. I happen to look at my watch
and it was around 3pm. We had maybe another hour or so of fishing
before taking the long trek back up to the truck and heading back too
the cottage.
It
wasn’t long after I hooked up again. In the same manner. My fly
line moved towards the middle on the creek. I again wristed a heavier
hook set and this time the fish got really pissed and shot towards
the far bank, down from Gene, Under a hanging tree branch. I angled
the rod near the surface water trying to keep from getting caught up
in the low overhanging branches. Under the tree the fish rose just
below the surface and audibly splashed water everywhere. Feeling the
weight and strain in the arced rod I figured it was probably a king
salmon. I figured I’d play it out and hoped my sucker spawn comes
out cause I really wanted my fly back. The fish raced towards my side
of the bank towards where I hooked it. I took in line hurriedly back
onto the large arbor reel but not fast enough to keep a tighter line.
I thought I lost it but when I caught up with the slack in the line
the rod tip bowed again and the fish was still hooked in front of me
somewhere. I couldn’t see through the dark water but it stayed
deep. Feeling the tension again it turned downstream and took off
just out from the bank. Line shot through the guides and the spool
spun as fast as a loose spool of tying thread on a wooden floor. I
took a few steps out towards the middle of the stream trying to keep
the fish from going under the trunks and debris along the bank. There
just so happen to be an angler along the bank fishing. The fish
splashed just in front of him and continued down creek like a fleeing
wounded ringneck. I asked the guy if it looked like a king salmon
knowing he had a good look at it. He said it definitely wasn’t a
king. Immediately I figured it just had to be a big ole brown. Maybe
halfway between me and the beach front anglers down creek the fish
decided to test my fishing ability and started to aggravate me with
head shaking and underwater shenanigans. I wasn’t fallen for it and
kept my wits not forcing the issue. I started wading the creek down
stream heading towards the other bank so Bob wouldn’t have to cross
the creek should I get to tame the fish. About when I got into the
middle of the creek the fish turned and raced downstream once again
like a base runner getting the sign for a hit and run. I had the rod
arced and more line peeled off the reel. I felt like Brad Pitt in the
movie ‘A River Runs Through It’ as I kept wading downstream with
my hooked fish though the water never did reach over my chest waders.
When I got near the other side of the creek there was an overhanging
bush and other branched debris along the bank which wasn’t a place
to land him. While the fish was putting on a show in the middle of
the water for the guys across the creek I looked downstream to where
I might have Bob room to net it. That’s when I noticed a guy
fishing just on the other side of the outward bush. I called out
“fish on” and he flipped his line out of the water just in time
as my fish decided to swim towards him as if the fish thought he was
giving out free doggy treats. The brown trout turned downstream and
maybe not as quick as earlier. I waded myself around the bush into
slower current. Bob was already down from me with the net on the
bank. The fish shot out and kind of held up with a few head shakes.
It felt like I had a hooked log with enough twigs attached to sway
with the undercurrent. By now I could feel the strain in my extensor
muscle and extensor tendon in my forearm from fighting the fish. Bob
mentioned I couldn’t let the fish swim down much further as the
water shallows over a rocky bed just down creek. After Bob stepped
into the water I told him to move a little further down and I’ll
try to get the fish in front of him like I had before. With the rod
butt in my gut for leverage I pulled back on the rod. My two handed
grip around the cork handle was as tight as holding a thin handled
bat waiting for a fast ball. The fish slowly and reluctantly came
towards us with a couple more light head shakes. From all the
fighting we had done I could tell the fish was tiring out. Slowly but
surely he entered the slower current out from Bob and I backed up as
close to the bank a possible with the rod angled high in the air. The
front, of the 8 weight, rod section was arced into the butt section pretty much.
Since the fish was slowly getting closer to Bob I didn’t have any
reason to put any more pressure or undo stress on the rod. Bob was
behind the fish as we had done before and as I raised the rod the
fish rose to the surface. Bob scooped her up like he’s been doing
it all his life. He held onto the net with both hands as the weighty
fish swatted and wriggled in the webbing. He got it near the bank and
I waded over to finally get a good look at my catch that I battled
for what seamed like an hour.
She
was a big brute of a brown trout. The biggest I figured I caught all
week.
I
looked at my watch and it was 3:35pm. I told Bob that if I was back
home trout fishing and caught a trout I thought was one of the biggest in
the creek I’d call it a day and head back to my camper. We still
had another hour or so, so we headed back upstream and continued
fishing till around 4:30.
We
headed back to the cottage and finally got to sleep in before
cleaning up, packing and heading to Erie Sunday morning.
~doubletaper
