Exams ARE OVER!

My last exam was Thursday night.  Time to get out and FISH!!! 

I fished all day Friday and again today.  I was rewarded with a beautiful chrome hen on Friday and colored up buck today.  The water was prime, to one day past prime, on Friday.  Today, it was a bit more clear and with a little less water.  Friday, the flow was at 290ish CFS and today it was about 190 cfs.  Friday, there was a good green color and about 2 ft of vis, today it was about 3 feet of vis and some green in the deep spots and clear everywhere else.  Friday's fish was on a y2k egg and today's was on a pheasant tale.  Air temp on Friday was about 50, today was 61.  Water temp on Friday was 38, and today it was 42 degrees.  Friday's fish came from a tailout, up against a rocky bank and today's fish came from the deep center of the pool in the slow water, right on the bubble line.

November: low water and beautiful days

This fall has been marked by low water and warm weather, not exactly the kind of stuff steelhead dreams are made of.  There was one maybe two weeks of good fishing after the rains brought in by the remnants of Sandy, too bad I was trapped in the law library and didn’t have a chance to get out for the fun.

I made sure I got out for a day last weekend as a birthday gift to myself and I also managed to log a few hours of river time Wednesday after work.  The water was low and clear.  The sun was high and bright, the air temps were in the mid to high 50s; it seemed like late September or early September.

I began by swing streamers as I worked my way down stream and indicator fished my way back up to the car.  In two days of fishing I had one grab, but didn’t connect.  That was it.  It was disappointing in the catching department.  The days were absolutely beautiful and I had the water to mostly myself, not bad consolation prizes.

It rained this morning, but not enough.  Later today and tomorrow they’re calling for snow.  Sadly, I don’t see fishing conditions improving before the end of the weekend.    

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

   

       

Fall Bronze Backs

I wanted to fish both days this weekend, but it wasn’t meant to be. I caught a cold on Thursday that kept me on the couch yesterday which was a BEAUTIFUL fall day. I felt a bit better today so I wadered up and hit the stream. Before I left I had some choice to make. Do I head down stream and poke around the lower river for one of the first arrivals? Or, do I hit the upper river in the hope that the bass are still hitting?

A few steelhead have moved into the system and are hanging out in the lower river. Everyone is waiting for a big rain, which should present an opportunity for the first good push of fish. With the river flowing at 88 CFS, I opted for bass fishing. I figured I had a better shot at some bass that are beefing up for winter than a few lonely steelhead that are probably getting pounded on by everyone and their mother. A beautiful Sunday afternoon at the beginning of steelhead season is prime time for all the idiots to come out and flog the water for the few fish that have moved in. Low water, low numbers of steelhead, tons fishing pressure; it just wasn’t worth the drive. The chance of catching a steelhead today under these conditions was not nearly as good as the chance at catching some good bass. It just wasn’t worth the drive down river to rub elbows with all the idiots.

The water was a bit off color. There was about eighteen inches of visibility. The air temp was 57 degrees, and the water temp was about 60 degrees. The leaves have begun changing and bass are getting ready for winter. The fish are holding a bit deeper than in the summer and want a slower retrieve. I had to let the fly sink a bit and then strip it slowly, letting it pause for a long moment after each strip or two. There were a few leaves in the water, but not enough to be too annoying. I fished a black wooly bugger variation all day.

I caught several small bass to start the day off. I lost the first good fish that ate the fly after it leaped out of the water a time or two. Losing that fish was worth the acrobatic display and fight this fish gave. I caught a few other good fish, some rock bass, and a sunfish before I relocated down to another branch of the river where I had some good luck earlier this summer. Fishing on the other branch started off slow but quickly heated up. I caught several really nice bass, one was a real hog!

I had a great afternoon on the water. I love being on the water in early fall. The air is temperate, the trees are taking on fall colors, but things are still green and some of the wild flowers still remain on the banks. Its days like this that remind me how pretty North East Ohio can be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Early Fall Fishing

I fished this past Monday and today.  Fall has definitely arrived bringing cooler temperatures and leaves falling into the water.  Monday (9/17) was OK, the water was low and clear, but I caught a few small bass.  Today, after a few days of solid rain the flow was up and the water was high and muddy, the fishing was pretty lousy today.

I should have driven down river to see if I could get into some chrome, but I fished near home for late season bass.  I don't know that I could have caught anything in the mocha colored water.  I always prefer to catch fish, but today, I was just happy to be out fishing.  This is how it goes in the early fall when you're in law school. 

Small Stream Fishing

Rain late in the week has made the larger rivers unfishable over the weekend, the one time I have a chance to get out and wet a line.  Forced to seek smaller water to find fishable conditions, I’ve fished small streams for the last three weekends.  I’ve fished a couple of class A trout streams in PA, a tributary to the Chagrin, and the Clear Fork of the Mohican.  I went to PA and the Clear Fork in search of trout that turned out to be illusive.  Water temps in the PA streams were at 68 degrees, a bit too warm form trout to actively feed.  The water was low and clear on both PA streams and the clear fork.  The trout in were illusive in both places.  I still caught several creek chubs, sunfish, bass and I even caught a wild steelhead par.  Casting and getting a good drift was challenging.  The scenery was beautiful.  The solitude was relaxing.  Most of the fishing done was with dry flies.  I have to say, the thrill of a fish rising to a fly and eating from the surface never gets old. 

PA Streams

 

 

Chagrin Tributary

 

 

 

Clearfork

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 7: Last Hoora

I could feel the end coming.  That awareness of mere hours remaining before it all comes to an end in a cloud of jet wash.  I readied my gear and laid out my clothes the night before.  I woke before the alarm went off, grabbed my gear and hit the road.  I only had a few hours to drive to the stream, fish for as long as I could before I had to get back to the hotel for breakfast.  The schedule was tight because we still had to make the two and a half hour drive back to Jackson, return the rental car, and catch the shuttle to the airport in time to make our flight.  This was it.  The last couple of hours of fishing in Yellowstone.  I had to make it count.

There are no good trout streams near the Yellowstone Lake Hotel.  The guys at Blue Ribbon Flies suggested that I check out Middle Creek because it is the best trout stream near the Lake Hotel.  Middle Creek is a steep small stream, it drops one hundred feet per mile as it descends towards its mouth.  Much of the stream runs parallel with the East Entrance road as the stream flows towards the park boundry.  I read that the head waters are full of brook trout, but the lower section of the stream held cutthroats.  I had to drive all the way to the East Entrance to fish the section that contained cutthroat, that is, if Middle Creek held cutthroat inside the park.  The East entrance was as far as I could go with the limited schedule and only possessing a Yellowstone Fishing license.  I guessed and hoped there would be cutthroat there.  Why else would the guys at Blue Ribbon Flies direct me there?

When I hit the road it was dark as night.  After about a little while dawn had broken.  I was racing towards the East Entrance.  On a mission.  No time to stop and look around or take pictures.  The road follows the shore of Yellowstone Lake East before it heads through the Sylvan Pass, then down towards the East Entrance.  As soon as the East Entrance was in view I pulled over and parked the car at the first pull off I came to. 

The rod was already rigged.  I put on my pack and carefully removed the rod from the trunk.  A little extra caution was warranted after breaking a rod the first day in Yellowstone.  I scurried down the slope from the road to the creek and began working a fishy looking stretch of water.  The water was cold, my feet were numb.  The stream was small and tight, the current was swift.  It was difficult to get a good drift in the conflicting currents.  Middle Creek is a beautiful little mountain stream.

 

I had a fish make a quick slash at my fly shortly after I began fishing, unfortunately, I missed it.  Good.  That was no tiny brook trout.  There were some decent size fish in this water.  I didn't know if it was a cutty or brook trout, but I would have been happy landing that fish either way.  I hoped it was a cutthroat.  I really wanted to catch a few more cutthroats before I left for the airport, but I would take some decent brookies too.

I worked my way up into the next pool and missed another good fish along the right bank in a small eddy on the seem of the main current.  Damn.  I was a bit trigger happy because I was so eager to catch a few fish before making the trip back to Ohio.  After my day on the Yellowstone and Tower Creek, the concern of getting skunked the last time on the amazing waters of Yellowstone National Park was very real. This feeling had been nagging at me since I missed the first fish. I desperately wanted to score one more trout my last time on these legendary waters.  I persistently kept working every fishy spot.  I saw the fish rise... wait, wait, strike, the line tightened up, the rod bent and began dancing as the fish shook its head and pulled in an effort to free itself.  Fish on!  I quickly worked the fish into the net and got a picture.  It was a beautiful, wild, native, cutthroat trout.  I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment and relief.

 
Time was ticking.  My internal clock was ringing, I knew the alarm on my phone was going to go off at any moment.  I fished with purpose hoping I could bag one more cutthroat before I had to depart from this beautiful mountain stream.  I snagged my fly in a tree and had to break it off.  I re-rigged as quickly as I could with a flying ant.  After a few casts it was clear that the fly was too small to get any attention from these trout.  I cut the fly off to change it out.  As I was reaching into my pack to dig out my fly box the alarm went off.  It was just not meant to be. 

I reeled up the leader hiked up the bank and back to the car.  It was time to race back to the hotel.  I didn't have much time to pack up and get back.  I threw my gear in the car and I was off.  I made good time on the way back and had about ten minutes to spare as I approached Fishing Bridge.  We had not gone to see this famous landmark so I used the spare to time to stop and grab a few pics on the way.  I made it back five minutes early.  I cleaned up and we went to breakfast.

 

 

 

 

We ate quickly so we could go down to the lake for a few pictures before packing the car and departing Yellowstone.

 

 

 

We made good time despite some traffic as we drove through Grand Teton National Park.  We ditched the car and made it to the airport exactly when we had planned to arrive.  The airport was packed with travelers.  We hunted down some seats and joined the crowd.  We still had an hour before our plane was set to board.  We grabbed some lunch and watched as new arrivals were deplaning and passengers were gawking at the view of the Tetons that had captivated us seven days earlier.  Seeing this made me wish we were not waiting to board a plane back to Cleveland.  I love my home town.  I'm a die hard Clevelander, but I wish we had a few more days in beautiful trout heaven.