Stone Flies and Warnings

I went East to hit a few of the creeks that feed the Grand. The creeks usually fish before the larger rivers do. The first place I went had a road closed sign posted. The road looked open, the sign looked as if it had been moved aside, and there were tire tracks leading down the road, so I gave it a shot. I drove down most of the way to the parking lot dodging down branches and small ponds, when the road was covered with snow that had not been plowed. I was not about to chance getting stuck in the snow. I turned the car around a parked on the side of the road. As I was rigging my rod, a ranger pulled up behind me. Apparently road closed really meant road closed. The ranger was very nice and understanding. He ran my plates and license then came back with a written warning. Woops, I guess I won’t do that again.

I went to another access point on Payne Creek and talked to a guy who had been fishing, he said there were a couple of other guys on the creek and nobody had caught a fish all morning. He said the water was pretty stained, he guessed about 6” of visibility. I decided to head to Mill Creek because it usually clears first.



I got to the creek and fished down from the access to the mouth of the creek and not even a bump. I decided to walk back up to the access and fish going up river for the last half hour before I had to go. I was walking along managing the terrain well and thinking to myself, it would be really easy to trip and fall. Just as I had that thought I was face down in the snow. It’s amazing what hides beneath the snow. I tripped over some unidentifiable branch or other hazard that wrapped my foot up which had been hidden by the snow. I pick myself up. There was no blood, no tear in the waders, and my rod was intact; everything was fine. I came out of that one unscathed. I continued up river to resume fishing. When I got to some fresh water just above the access I reached back for my fly box to change offerings. The pocket in my pack that held my fly box was open and the box gone. Crap! I must not have zipped the pocket the last time I changed flies. My first thought was of my fly box floating out to Lake Erie, then I remembered the fall. I turned around and walked back down river a few hundred yards to where I had fallen. There was my fly box sticking up out of the snow like a green tombstone. Happy to retrieve my fly box I set off again to fish the water up stream of where I had come in.

As I was walking I noticed little black stone flies all over. That’s a great sign, it means spring is here. I changed my egg pattern out for a stone fly nymph hopping to match the hatch and turn the fish on. I fished a deep run, some pocket water and a few chutes before I got to a big pool that looked deep and full of log jams. Usually places like this have a muddy bottom and I was not about to try to wade through that alone to get stuck in there. I turned around and fished back down to the access and walked back to the car.

I could smell the skunky stink as I fished my way back, hoping I could put one on the board and salvage the day. It was just not meant to be. Looking at the bright side, I got to practice my cast and take a nice walk along the creek today… that was it. Oh yeah, and a written warning from the Lake County Ranger Department. Thanks guys!