THE DAY TRIPPER FLY FISHING BLOG

posted by Alex on Apr 23

This is me sportin’ a brand new Dr. Pepper fishin’ cap

I’m so pumped up I don’t even know where to start! After a slow start to ‘08, I’ve been out 4 times the past seven days for everything except for troutski’s. That’s 10 notches on the log book for the year of the rat. This is my first season doing the blog thing while on my annual quest to fish more than the previous year- and finding the time to edit pics and video is something I’m gonna have to figure out how to do. Cause right now, I haven’t. Between work, family, and fishing, there’s just enough time left to sleep.

a feisty crappie

Enough blog talk. Let’s talk about how the fishing has been.

Geoff’s second fish

Outfuckingstanding!

Let’s start off with Sunday’s Mohawk scouting/fishing expedition with Geoff. Geoff meets me at my house at 9:30 in the am with his canoe strapped to the top of his ‘yota. The plan is to spot my car then head upriver and fish our way back through a completely foreign section of river to the both of us, other than countless hours scouring it via aerial maps. Through lunch hour scouting trips along the banks of the upper reaches, we knew we’d encounter respectable numbers of golden bones. The only question though was what stage of the spawn were they in? From our experience, spawning carp won’t touch food, let alone fur and feathers, so the plan was to target bass and be ready to switch over should we encounter feeding carp.

As we started our float the silence of our gliding canoe would be violently interrupted by 10#-20# footballs shooting up out of the water and smashing down on the surface. The plan to watch for feeders was easier said than done. Water clarity was maybe a foot and a half, tops, in most places. The only time we’d actually see signs of Carp in the area, were the massive boils as we spooked them coming past with the canoe. Add the moderate chop on the water from the steady south/ southeast wind, and the odds were definitely in the fish’s favor.

As we moved downstream, we came into a little side bay off the main river. The wind direction was pushing warm surface water into the shallow, weed choked bay. Plus, as we would later find out, the whole thing averaged 2′-3′ deep. Even earlier in the day, water temps were a good 10ºF warmer than the main river. Despite knowing it was warmer than the main river, I don’t think either one of us had any intentions of spending a serious amount of time there.

The first signs of fish were from little bass or sunfish nipping at Geoff’s popper. Then as we moved along the bay’s southeast shore line, we spotted carp activity right on the bank. Geoff switched over to a fly that no carp could refuse while I tied on a Mixed Media. A few casts later Geoff yells “FISH”, and a gorgeous pre-spawn Largemouth erupts out of the water as I’m digging my camera out of my pocket and putting it in video mode.

chunky largemouth

A couple panfish later we pretty much lost confidence that the carp were in any sort of mood to play. That didn’t stop them from teasing us. We couldn’t move 2′ without seeing a carp or two moving out of our way. It was worse than being waterboarded. We moved up the eastern shoreline, catching another largemouth and a few panfish along the way when shit hit the fan. Geoff was stripping in a bugger and out of nowhere a 10#+ carp smashes Geoff’s fly at the edge of some submerged cat tails- just crushes it! Water erupts as the two of us are going nuts knowing that the first carp of the year is on! Fortunately for Geoff, the fish surges out toward the middle of the lake away from the cat tails. The next thing I know, I can feel the weight of the fish as I slide the net under it and bring it into the boat.

Seconds later the fish is back in the water and Geoff can’t contain himself

“First Carp of the Year!”

“WhooooooooooHooooooooo!”

And just like that, we had 100% confidence to specifically target Carp.

We paddled over to the west side of the bay where there seemed to be a little more carp activity than the rest of the lake. What we found when we got there was a small “bay within a bay” where the warmer surface water being blown across by the SE wind was getting trapped. The water was about 10 shades of mud darker than the rest of the bay from so much fish activity.

“A TAIL!”

“ANOTHER ONE!”

I guess you could be logical and assume the warmer water being blown into the area, coupled with the hot sun, had finally warmed the water enough to trigger a little feeding activity. But if you ask me, we willed those fish to eat. Geoff laid his rod down as I set up on the tailing fish. I dropped a bugger into a small plume of mud and a few strips after letting it get down to the bottom was rewarded with the savage bulldog first run of a pissed off carp.

My first carp of ‘08

There’s an age old question. What happens when an unmovable object is hit with an unstoppable force?

I don’t know about all that physics stuff, but what I do know is that when you take an unmovable object and combine it with an unstoppable force, you get a Carp. I don’t care if you’ve got a 10wt and 50 pound test, you aren’t going to make one of these fish do anything they don’t want to. You’re just along for the ride as you hold on for dear life praying the hook doesn’t pop.

After finally getting the fish to the boat it buries itself in the mud right under the bough. I reach out, grab the leader and lift straight up as Geoff fills the net with weeds, mud, and about 5 pounds of thrashing Carp. As he lifts it out of the water mud and scraps of weeds are just flying everywhere. It was like standing next to a wet dog as it shakes itself dry.

Only fishing for carp can you get filthy while sitting in a boat all day.

Now it’s Geoff’s turn, and despite the commotion that just occurred, there are still fish rooting for migrating dragons and damsels near the bank. Geoff is hooked up almost immediately with a brute of a fish. He gets it close to the boat and just as I tell Geoff to let me know if he needs me to move the net and my rod sticking off the bough, the fish rages clockwise around the front of the boat. A split second later Geoff’s rooster tailing fly line rips through the water, taking the rid and the net handle with it as I grab them and spin them out of the way.

“That went way too smooth” we laughed

As I lift the fish into the boat, Geoff laughs and says

“Just think, we could be fishing for stocked trout right now.”

“Yeah right” I laugh

Geoff got one more carp before we moved out of the bay back into the main river. While it’s probably one of the funniest stories of the day, I’ll keep it to myself and let the video do the talking…

I’ve had that shirt since I was 13

We floated down, fishing some, but mostly paddling around scouting as much water as we could before the sun dropped behind the tree line. We found some absolutely HUGE flats that will definitely get another look when the carp have finished spawning, and water temps bring more activity.

Last Night

Monday I got an invite from Dan to come fish for Smallies with him about a half an hour away on Tuesday after work. Once permission was obtained, we made arrangements to meet up at the fly shop and I’d follow him to the fish. This was my first time fishing with Dan, and I was as much looking forward to getting to know him as I was to getting into a couple of the ready to explode pre-spawn smallies he had shown me pics of from a trip a few days ago.

We geared up and made our way down to the river. Dan showed me around the place and I set up with a floating line and one of Dan’s weighted estaz buggers that was a little to much for my 6/7. Dan started fishing downstream and after about three casts is hooked up with a nice pike in the 30″ range. I watched the fight through the viewfinder on my optio w30 in video mode before congratulating Dan on a nice fish. A few minutes later my rod was jolted, actually I take that back, it was more like my fly just stopped and then the fish realized it was hooked before my rod tip buckled into the water. I leaned back on it, the fish came to the surface, slashed, and dove back for the drop off. And just like that, my line goes limp. Next cast, I get a good thump, set the hook and slack. I wasn’t getting bit off, it was more like my rod just didn’t have the backbone to get a good hook set into the fish’s bony mouth. A few fly pattern changes, and bad hook sets later, my fly just gets obliterated! I set the hook as hard as I can and feel the fish’s fury as I’m leaning back on the rod. It boils at the surface, turning for deeper water. I’m set to give it some line and my rod goes limp again.

missing four letter word

I missed about three more hook sets when Dan and I figure all the pike have pushed the smallies out of the area we were fishing. I think Dan felt bad I hadn’t landed any fish yet, but it was no one’s fault but my own- and those ruthless pike that were having fun at my expense. We decided to head to another spot where there should be bass. As we packed up, I respectfully whispered to the river,

“Wait till I come back with a real rod bitches”

The conditions were good at the next spot, except for the fish seemed to be concentrated out of casting range. We fished it hard anyways until the sun fell behind the trees. Afterwards, we chain smoked cigarettes and had a beer on the bank as we BS’ed for a while before parting ways with plans on fishing together again this season.

So that’s how my last 3 days have gone. My fly boxes have taken some casualties, I’m so sunburned I can barely move, my right index finger is notched with line burns, my lips are chapped, and I’m loving it…