Morning on the Rock

I fished the Rocky River yesterday morning after dropping off friends at the Airport.  The water was really low and clear, it was flowing at 69 CFS.  The air temp was about 55 degrees, and it bright and sunny.  These were tough steelheading conditions.  I fished a section lower down on the river.  It seemed like every angler West of the Cuyahoga was on the Rock this morning.  Every ford had a dozen or more guys sitting in folding chairs and chucking bait.  No one was catching this morning, not the bait guys, not the hardware guys nor the fly guys.  The fishing was slow, but the beautiful day made up for the lack of catching.

 

 

More of these guys than . . .

 



 

. . . these guys.

 

 

Columbus Day Trout Marathon

I shot out of bed as the alarm rang at 5:40am.  By 6:00am I was on the road headed to central PA.  Three hours and forty-five minutes later I pulled into the fly shop to pick up some flies and get a fishing report.  By 10:15 I was making the first cast.  I began fishing streamers and hooked a few fish.  Then I moved down stream to fish dries.  I saw a sporadic rise or two, but couldn’t get any trout to rise.  I switched tactics and began nymphing and brought a few more trout to the net.  The rest of the day I fished through with streamers to pick off the aggressive fish and then came back with the nymph rig to clean up the rest.  The highlight of the day was the last fish that was hooked just after sunset.  A beast of a fish slammed a small olive slumpbuster that was given to me by one of the guides at the fly shop that morning.  The fish pulled hard and I knew it was the fish of the day.  A few runs up and down stream, I had the fish under control.  Then it went ballistic, the fish shot out of the water like a nuke from a sub.  After a few summersaults and head shakes the line went limp.  The fish was gone.  It was a great trout, a 20 plus incher with big shoulders.  Losing a fish is always a real disappointment.  This was a little different.  I was disappointed, but I had an appreciation for this amazing fish.  It came out to play and it played hard.  I was in awe at this large fish that had just slammed my fly and won the fight.  The take, and the fight were awesome, but the acrobatics were the cherry on top.  That fish jumping out of the water is the stuff fishing stories are made of.

Did someone say there were chromers being caught?

OK, I went on this rant yesterday about how combat fishing for steelhead in low clear water was just not worth the ass ache.  Sometimes the addiction is just too much to take.  I talked to a few people today who were telling stories of catching chrome trout over the weekend.  I couldn't take it any more, I gave in to the urge and headed north in search of fresh runners. 

The water was low and clear as expected.  The river was flowing at a raging 71 CFS and the water temp was 59 degrees.  The air was about 65 degrees and it was a bit overcast, it looked like it was going to rain but never did.

I was the only angler in the lot when I arrived, I was shocked.  I expected a bunch of assholes chucking bait or hardware, rubbing elbows, and crossing lines.  This kind of thing never happens in early fall.  This river is normally a zoo.  I wadered up and rigged the rod.  Before I could tie a fly on, another angler showed up with his spinning rod.  He beat me out of the parking lot, but I got to the water first.  I set up on river left, he crossed the river and fished from the right bank. 

OK no problem, this is a big hole, there was room for both of us.  Plop.  A few seconds later, I hear it again.  Plop.  I saw a small splash to my left just down stream from where I was standing.  That asshole was casting all the was across the river and fishing the water right in front of me!  Who does that?  On his second cast he hooks a bright chrome fish from the run I was fishing just before my rig drifted through.  He robbed me of that fish!  I was so pissed.  I waded out to the middle of the river and began fishing his side of the river.  I positioned my self so he couldn't fish across the stream any more.  This forced him to move down stream to the next hole.  What an asshole!  I've seen some bad etiquette on the river in the past, but this was the worst I ever experienced.

I decided to fish hard after getting robbed of that nice fish.  I picked apart ever section of that run and hooked a good fish.  Hell, it was a great fish.  It was a sweet chrome victory.  This fish was the first steelhead of the fall season for me.  It also gave me a feeling of vindication after chasing that asshole out.

First steelhead of fall 2012