New York Browns

 

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