The Struggle
5/17/22
I go up to Kettle Creek in May to dry fly fish. With the rain and muddy water early in the week dry fly fishing wasn’t very good. Though I did catch a few I made rise it was far and few in between. That was Sunday evening and Monday morning before the rain and muddy waters.
With the many hatches and natural nymphs in the stream Woolly Bugger and streamer fishing wasn’t a priority though I did catch one or two on a bugger.
Since not many risers and conditions I concentrated below the surface on Tuesday in the stained water.
I hear and seen fly fishermen brag about Euro nymphing, Czech nymphs and Frenchies as if that’s the only way to catch trout now days. I nymph fish like I always have and catch trout with time true patterns or patterns I tie to match the aquatic entomology of the stream and conditions. No fancy named flies, no game changers, rubber worms or must have’s in today’s fly tying market.
Tuesday morning, after breakfast, I headed out to do some Kettle Creek trout fishing. Where I wanted to go there were 4 trucks and two cars parked along the the stretch of water. Fishermen were lined up as if watching the tortoise and rabbit race. I drove back downstream where there was only one vehicle and one guy fishing in shorts with a spin rod and a chain stringer hanging from a belt. Oh, did I mention he was in shorts?
I bought new waders before I came up here because my older ones leaked. Kettle Creek is still pretty cold this time of year. I also get tired of taking off wet waders only to have to wring out my fleece wading pans as well as socks. This guy is up to his knees in shorts, no waders. Go figure!
I got my gear on and took out my fast action Icon rod with weight forward line to cut through the wind. The water cleared up nicely from yesterdays storm but still flowed pretty fast. While fishing I saw a few fish rise but to what? The only thing I saw flying around was a few small caddis, which was rarely, and the hawk above. I started nymph fishing but once I saw the rises I just had to try for them. The gusts of wind didn’t help casting my caddis out and with the debris floating in the water wasn’t helping out either. I did end up catching one and one got unhooked bringing him in.
After time and again trying to make another rise was getting more frustrating that I decided to go to the dark side.
By noon I had caught quite a few trout. Other fishermen would come and go throughout the morning but didn’t stick around very long. When the stream cleared out of fishermen and I wasn’t catching any trout for some time I decided to drive upstream again and see if the race was finally over.
There were still a few vehicles left over but where I wanted to make my stand for the time being was vacant with the closest angler up creek fishing the faster current. The wind gusts seem to be a little stronger up here but I made a few casts with a dry March Brown I had already on my tippet anyhow before going back underneath. After hooking a couple where I was standing the guy upstream and I kind of switched places without any spoken words. I added a little more weight to my leader and started to hook up more often in the faster current.
They were grabbing the nymphs heavy, no indicator, bobber, float or thing-a-ma-jigger needed. ¾ away, cross creek, there was calmer wavy water without the small white capped waves. I made a cast just to the tail end of a good run of wavy current, made a big upstream mend and let the tandem nymphs flow into the calmer flowing current. A fish grabbed it and pulled like a boy ripping the flag off a runner with the ball, in flag football style. The line tightened and instantly the 5 weight bent into the mid section with line peeling off the reel once the fish knew it was hooked. The fish darted downstream tugging and testing my line and knots and fishing ability. I gripped the cork tightly in clinched fist while controlling the fly line tension. The trout fought furiously with hard tugs while constantly swimming downstream. I knew I had a biggy. Turning and swimming upstream it rose just below the surface and with the sun shining down I saw the big rainbow for the first time.
I had a good heavy fish the day before in the mad stained water. It kept deep the whole time it fought. I had it within rods length but the water was too stained to see it. When I tried to get him up to the surface he gave a quick heavy jolt and the hook came free. I was hoping this guy wasn’t going to some how do the same thing.
I moved the rod upstream and it followed from a distance. Angling the rod for side pressure, he had the strength to keep his distance. I started backing up to calmer water but he wasn’t interested in getting any closer. I couldn’t force him towards me and I didn’t want to lose him so I had to let him struggle in the faster current. He definitely had more stamina than I expected as he continued to jolt and tug line. I had him swimming upstream, downstream, near and further out . He was definitely controlling the battle and it was if he was seeing how long I could hold on like I was trying to hold on while riding a mechanical bull. Seconds as well as minutes seem to tic by while he wrenched and jerked trying to throw me off guard.
Angling the rod upstream again I had him swimming in the current closer. I backed up just a bit in shin deep water. Again he had no intentions to swim in shallower water and shot away taking line and jerking the rod. I figured I’d have to wade in deeper water to his liking if I wanted to net him. So for more struggling he battled against my will.
Time and again I got an eyeball on this oversized football rainbow. He wasn’t giving up lightly and I wasn’t going to force him until I felt he settled down some.again I guided him upstream and he began to get closer. I got him close enough that I had about 6” of fly line out of the tip top. I had him holding steady with the rod extended. My rod hand was gripped tightly with all my strength and my wrist was locked as the rod bent in a good arc. I had the net out dangling in the current while I struggled with him with both hands. I grabbed the net and raised the rod and watched him swim just out in front of me upstream. With the rod arced good he swam close enough I was able to swoop him up in the net. He flipped and squirmed in the net. Keeping him in the water, in the net, I got him to the bank. What a beauty! He had taken the small bead head pheasant tail nymph.
I didn’t have too much trouble detaching the hook but I have to admit it took some time to revive him. I saw his gills continue to flutter as I let him out of the net but he just dropped to the bottom as if unconscious. I scooped him back up in the net. His gills were still fluttering as if gasping for air. He wasn’t giving up life and I was going to try everything I could to get him back safely. I grabbed him by the neck of his tail and took him into stronger current facing him upstream. When I felt him give me a good couple of swats with his tail I eased my grip and he swam off out of my hand. He swam off with enough energy I felt he was going to live unharmed. I felt good!
I fished a little longer and caught one more trout before I called it quits.
My arm muscles were sore by now and fatigued. My shoulder felt like I had pitched a complete game and into extra innings. I was completely sore and tired.
Back at camp I opened the door and the aroma of venison stew in the crock pot filled my senses joyfully like visiting a bourbon distillery. I sat and ate two bowls of stew with a can of milk.
It was a grand ole day!!
~doubletaper
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