Somewhere out there

 

Somewhere Out There

4/11/22

 

  I parked along the side of the road and looked through the bare forest trees towards the crick. It reminded me of the front of a birthday card my oldest son gave me back when. Inside he wrote “Somewhere out there we find it every time.”

  I put together my 4 weight 7 ½ foot Powel fly rod fitted with a L. L. Bean reel with DT line. I grabbed a few cigars and walked down through the forest. The shallower narrow crick was now flowing wide, fast and deeper than normal this time of year due to the recent rain fall. It was only 39° in the morning but was suppose to get near 60° in the afternoon. Though I could have waited for it to warm up some, the sun was already rising within the blue/gray sky.

  Scraggly trees overhung the sides of the crick with branches warning of casting hazards. The flow of the current was of interweaving waves caused by exposed boulders and subsurface flat rocks. The clarity was good and with the much wavy current should hide my presence with long casts.

  As I set foot in the crick I felt the under current pushing against my lower legs. I felt the cold crick water instantly around my stocking foot hip waders and didn’t take long to feel the chill through the neoprene booties.

  Being the second week of the opening day of trout season, and the constant rain, I figured the trout, that escaped the onslaught of fishermen, should be scattered. I already had a streamer attached to a quick-snap and my plan was to fish my way down crick with long thoughtful casts. It didn’t take long for the first trout to grab onto the swinging Woolly Bugger. I played him towards me as he fought hard in the oncoming current. I was surprised it was a brown trout. (Most trout I ever caught in these waters were brook or rainbows.)

 

  I continued casting streamers side to side letting them swing. I gingerly waded the crick downstream walking over the unsteady millstones not to lose my balance. It was if walking in the children’s play room, in soft moccasins, over spilled marbles and wooden building blocks..

  A trout strikes the streamer just before the line straightens. I feel the strike within my guide fingers, holding the line, but also notice the curve in the fly line pull away. I pull back the line and wrist set the hook. The trout tries to swim downstream but I hold the line tight as the rod bows towards the trout. The rainbow leaps in the air like a fledgling trying to fly. Back into the current it wrangles with the line and disappears as I hold a limp line.

  It’s not easy bringing trout to the net in fast current. Trying to maneuver a hooked trout around exposed boulders and subsurface ones is a challenge in itself. Other times I can’t raise the rod high because of the low hanging branches. I continue to enjoy the day hooking trout as I wade downstream.

 

 

 I find myself pretty far downstream away from my truck. The sun is in full view of the water as it sparkles like a freshly waxed floor under bright lights.

  

 I call it quits, wade out and light a cigar. I weave my way through the forest downed trees, twisted branches and bent limbs. I notice deer scat and hoof prints on the softer forest ground. I travel until the mountainside doesn’t look so steep and start to climb following a well worn path. I’m surprised that, almost to the road, I’m only a couple of yards from my truck. I drop the tailgate and unload my gear.

  It was a pleasant peaceful outing. Though a bit scary at times wading over uneven, and sometimes movable millstones, I caught trout.

 

~doubletaper

Last Wednesday

 

Last Wednesday

4/13/22

  I made my last cast with my Woolly Bugger. I watched it swing for the last time before taking two steps towards the shoreline. I was in crotch high water for the past 10 minutes or so about a couple of yards from land. I tried everything from sucker spawn, San Juan worms and streamers. I couldn’t get a strike on anything. I knew this was an easy place, off the road to get to, that every drive by fishermen would stop to give it a try like a busy street corner Newsstand. It’s an easy place for the fish commission to stock a few buckets full of trout also. Good flow of riffles flowing into a deep pocket of water. I was actually surprised no one was fishing it at the time.

  I had caught a nice rainbow early in the morning way up crick. He took a pink sucker spawn. He put on a good fight so, besides streamers, pink sucker spawn was definitely needed to be on the table. 

 

  I still had my right arm extended letting the bugger drag in the water downstream as I was taking careful steps, over the many millstones, towards land. I had weight on the leader so I knew the bugger was well underneath the surface. I felt a hard tug, hard enough my arm went towards the tug before I instinctively jerked back. I was still looking towards the bank when this all took place. I whizzed my head around and gripped the rod tighter. The top section, of the 4 weight, bowed downstream and I followed the fly line to see how far down this trout was. I could tell it was a heavy fish and staying well below the surface. I didn’t think it was one of these acrobatic rainbows I’ve been catching.

  He tugged and headed towards the faster current and I let him have some line but was depending on my knot strength and 4x tippet to hold him at bay most of the time. He scurried up through the wavy current away from where I was standing like trying to hold a beagle, on a leash, that just saw a flushed rabbit. He held tight under the current for a few seconds before heading back down stream just a short bit. My forearm was as stiff as an iron pipe with my elbow and upper arm trying to control the action. I was afraid to back up towards the bank being there were big uneven millstones between us. The trout started upstream again and close enough to the surface I saw a flash of his side minus the red streak. After giving him more side pressure he turned back downstream.

  By now I knew I had a good hook set with him staying hooked through the fast current and head shakes but the longer this went on the more chance something bad could happen. While he held steady I looked in the water behind me and figured, if I wade slow and cautious enough, I could get closer to the bank and force him out of the faster current into the slower deep water I was standing in. As I backed up I held the rod out without giving him any more line. He came towards me than made a deep move that caused the 7’ rod to arc nearly like a horseshoe magnet. I angled the rod upstream and let line slip between my finger and cork grip. With that move I quit wading towards the bank and made a stand. We had a few quick flurries between us and I had him within net distance once be but he took off like a scared cat seeing the animal control net.

  What seemed like an hour passed by was probably only a few minutes being everything was happening so fast at first. I began to bring in line tentatively ready to give him some line if he gets too rowdy. I got him into the slower deep current just in front of me somewhere deep. I took in line with the rod tip near the surface. I got my net ready, in my left hand, and started guiding the trout upstream from me raising the rod wanting him to rise from the deep. When I was able to see him I dropped the rod some putting a little slack in the line. Unaware to him I had the net behind him. He turned and as he tried to swim away he went head first into the net splashing like a frantic, nonswimmer, in chest high water. I had him.

  Carefully I waded to a flattened log along the bank and laid the net down for a picture. He held steady long enough and in short time to get a picture and get him back into the water safely.

 

 Heck, after that I awarded myself with a cigar. I didn’t care if I caught another fish the rest of the afternoon. I was as chipper as a teenager getting his first kiss after the school dance from the pretty girl and on his way home.

 After dinner, in the camper, I settled back and had a cold Scottish Ale from French Broad Brewing Co.

 

 Stockie or not, you still gotta catch'm and still gotta net e'm!

~doubletaper