THE DAY TRIPPER FLY FISHING BLOG

posted by Alex on May 12

I had made plans to fish the Battenkill Saturday morning, call it a day at around lunch time, go over to orvis to meet John Gierach, then head back to Albany to see The Black and White Years at the Tulip Festival.

Then I get an email from Geoff wanting to know if I wanna float another river in the morning, then head to the Battenkill around lunch time to wait for Hendricksons. He twisted my arm pretty good, and plans were made to rendezvous at 7am Saturday morning.

Though it was a nice float, the first river didn’t produce. We did float past a guy throwing worms on the bank who said he had caught five, while holding his hands far enough apart to almost make me think about despising him.

Onto the Battenkill

We got to the Battenkill and the water looked good. This was to be the canoe’s maiden voyage with Geoff’s new canoe outriggers he got for his birthday. They worked great! Geoff put all his weight on one side of the boat and still couldn’t get water to rush in over the side.

Now when you have a canoe like that, all decked out with outriggers, an anchor pulley, oarlocks, and comfy seats- you’d think you’d anchor it/tie it off well when parking it near shore to get out and wade fish.

I’m fishing about 50 yards upstream of Geoff when I hear a strange yell. I glance up and he’s running down the bank on the opposite side of the river- his canoe is slowly floating downstream in some deeper water.

“Shit!”

I take off downstream thinking we’ll both walk alongside it until it floats into an area shallow enough where one of us can wade out and grab it. I get down to the boat and Geoff(after putting my camera in video mode of course), just as Geoff rips his waders off, empties his pockets and jumps into the freezing cold water to swim after his boat.

I’m laughing my ass off.

All you see in the water is the Geoff’s head, (with his hat still on of course), gliding through the water until he reaches up and grabs the boat and gets it back to shore.

Oh, by the way- there was a shallow flat about 10′ downstream from where he caught up to the boat.

The water is still cold, high 40’s/low 50’s, so as Geoff is standing there soaked, so I’m thinking that’s the end of our day on the water. Geoff must have been a boy scout though, cause he had a change of clothes with him.

Fishing was tough. The Hendricksons never came, although there were a fair number of spinners trickling out of the trees to the river, along with a smattering of medium brown stoneflies, and the occasional olive. Not wanting to educate the fish more than we had to, I’d guess 90% of our time was standing on the bank watching for the duns that would never come, then watching for feeding fish after we realized the duns weren’t coming.

We were sitting on some big rocks where a lengthy riffle tails out into a long glassy pool. We saw a rise and Geoff was on it like white on rice. First cast through, the brown pictured below made a splashy attack on Geoff’s parachute hendi.

Afterwards, Geoff took a walk upstream, while I hung out watching the head of the pool. Probably about 30 minutes later, I hear a rise. “That was a good fish!”, I say to myself as I’m watching the rings get bigger, and bigger. I jump up and work my way down to it, trying to find a way to get within casting range of the fish when it comes up again in the same spot. Only problem is the water is too deep to get to it, so I start walking back up where I’m meet by Geoff. I’m trying to explain where the fish came up when it comes up again.

“Yeah, right there” I laughed

“That’s a good fish” Geoff says

We hop in the canoe and cross the river where I should be able to wade within range. It rises again when I’m at the edge of my casting range to it’s left, and about 30′ below it. I wade a little further up, and a little further out and drift a Hendi dry with trialing shuck over it.

Nothing.

I try a few more times, and switch to a spent spinner.

Nothing.

I try a few more times and switch to a parachute

Nothing.

It’s topped feeding so I decide to rest it and think about my options when Geoff, who meanwhile made his way upstream to another rising fish, is hooked up with what looks like a good fish. I back out of my position and sprint upstream along the bank to get the fight on video. It was a great fight, the Battenkill Brown even made a nice leap about 30′ out of the water, right outside the vision of my camera. As Geoff lifted the net out of the water you immediately see the girth of what I guesstimate to be about a 14″ fish.

He let it go, and I made my way back down, hoping the fish I was working before would be active again. I took it as a sign that this fish wanted a piece of me- when it rose just as I stopped to watch for a rise. I waded back into position and it rose again. This time I started out with a Rusty Spinner.

Nothing.

A few more casts and I decide to move a little bit further upstream, and a few steps closer so I could cast further above it.

It rises another 15′ upstream.

I move up and cast to it’s new postion.

Nothing.

I go back to the trailing shuck Hendrickson and wait for it to rise again. But the rise never comes. Thinking I may have waded to a spot to close for it’s comfort, I step back and rest it. About 5 minutes later, there’s another boil follwed by a Blurp! at it’s original position.

“Alright, Alex. It’s taking something just below the surface.” I say to myself

As I’m scanning my fly box, one pattern jumps out at me.

click for recipe

It’s Shane Stalcup’s “Stillborn Emerger”. A fly I’ve found that rides about 6″ below the surface when no floatant is applied.

“Fish!” Geoff yells from about 50 yards downstream. Except this time- I’m not moving. It’s not that I don’t wanna go down and help out. It’s that this fish is toying with me, and heading down to help Geoff might be seen as a sign of weakness.

Blurp!

I’m trying to get my tippet through the hook eye.

Blurp!

Still Trying

Blurp!

What the hell!

Blurp!

The hole isn’t obstructed

Blurp!

Maybe if I cut an inch of the tippet

Blurp!

The fish is now rising maybe 15′ in front of me

Blurp!

Maybe there is something in the eye

Blurp!

I clean out the eye with another hook

Blurp!

Damn, still won’t go

Blurp!

I need glasses

Blurp!

Come on!

Blurp!

Are you kidding me!

Blurp!

Finally!

Blurp!

I cast about 10′ above it and mend. The fly is under the surface, so I can’t see it as it is heading for the fish’s last known position. With no indicator, I quickly pull any slack out of the line, and follow the line with my rod tip. The line slowly drifts to about the right spot and I’m thinking I had another refusal as it drifts past the fish’s last known position.

I don’t remember a boil, but I think there was one. All I recall is slowly lifting the rod up and feeling several violent head shakes, followed by Geoff’s,”Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh!”, a few yards behind me.

Even though I have a spool, I’ve never fished with 6X before. More out of refusing to go below 5X than anything. But I ran out of 5X earlier and was forced to go with the 6X. Not knowing what it can handle, I start feeding the fish line as it runs.

“Don’t feed it line, fight it!” Geoff says

“I got 6X on” I say

Every bone in my body tells me I’m gonna lose this fish, and for some reason I’m okay with that. I’m just pumped that I finally fooled it. As the fight continues, I get more and more comfortable with the light tippet and get some control over the fish.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget seeing that fish as the net came out of the water. I couldn’t help myself as I lifted it out of the net after removing the hook.

“Wow!” I said

What a great fish, I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. I held it’s nose to my first stripping guide and mentally noted where it’s tail came to on the cork so I could get a semi-close measurement the next time I was around a tape measure. I admired it for a few more seconds, it made a quick thrash, and swam away.

Then I got home and had the perfect end to a perfect day