The only potential downside to fishing this past Sunday was that it was "opening weekend." Now those living outside the state may not be familiar with this concept, so it deserves a brief explanation. Missouri has a trout season during which angler's are permitted to keep fish. The season opens on March 1st and ends October 31st. What this really means, is that every year on March 1st, people start plucking trout out of the river and inevitably many of the big fish are taken on bait and treble hooks. It's really my favorite time of year. I hope you sense the sarcasm.
Each year on opening weekend, the trout parks are filled with meat fisherman bumping elbows and crossing lines in search of a "lunker," as they call them. In between casts, folks bark at each other for being too close, re-bait their hooks with power bait, corn, or night crawlers, and chuck their bobbers out on the water while "stocker" rainbows awaiting their demise flip around on the metal stringers hanging off the angler's belt.
Now I don't want to offend anyone, but this is not my cup of tea. I fish to get away from crowds. To find a peaceful setting where my surroundings are filled with the sounds of running water, birds in the trees, and the occasional slurp of a good fish taking an emerger or some other bug off the surface. I don't like to watch cigarette butts and fish guts drift past me as I fish and I definitely don't like anyone within at least 50 yards of me while fishing. I think this should be a rule. There is plenty of water out there for everyone to fish. Don't crowd me!
It also breaks my heart to watch people kill wild fish and long time resident fish (i.e. big browns). Please don't misunderstand my thoughts here. There is certainly nothing wrong with catching and keeping trout. I have kept trout in the past and will probably do so again in the future if I feel the need, but I would never keep a wild fish or a brown. I believe anglers should be limited to keeping "stockers." The meat is no different on a stocker and if someone is worried about their trophy, take a picture. Very accurate mounts can be made from photos and measurements of the fish. There is no need to kill it.
One problem, I understand, is differentiating between wild and stocked fish. This can be extremely difficult even to the trained eye. I have a proposed solution: clip the fins of stocked trout so "stockers" are easily distinguishable from wild fish. Having done some trout population studies in college, I know clipping fins is a common way to mark fish. If anglers were only allowed to keep fish with clipped fins, wild fish would proliferate. Is it possible for the MDC to pull this off?
Also, what would happen if the MDC changed the regs in the blue ribbon section so that you could only keep one fish with a clipped fin UNDER 14 inches? Presumably, this would take pressure off the wild trout and offer relief to the long term resident fish that have grown beyond 14 inches. If the goal is to increase the number of large fish in the stream, isn't it better to allow anglers to take one small fish instead of one big fish? Would this be better or worse for the river?
I would love to hear your comments on these questions because I may be way off base. The point is, I have no problem with removing "stockers" from the river, but let's set something up whereby wild fish and trophy-sized long term resident fish may not be removed at all. Aren't these the fish worth protecting?
Anyway, sorry for my little rant. Let me get back to the fishing report.
So despite the onset of opening weekend, I decided to head out Sunday to fish. The plan was to meet up with a friend, Henry, who was partaking in the opening weekend festivities. I assure you Henry was only keeping "stockers."
I was supposed to meet him at the lodge at 8 am. I left STL around 5:30. When I pulled in, I had to park on the grass because the place was packed. I did not see Henry's car. I went inside to say hello to a few folks I know who work at the lodge, showed-off a few pictures of Walter I have on my phone, and went back outside to meet Henry. He still wasn't there. I proceeded to put my waders on and rig up my rods. Where the hell was Henry?
Just as I got rigged up, he rolled in. He was with Ryan, a buddy of his, and the three of us headed to our fishing spot. Real quick, please be advised that I will NEVER reveal the specific places I fish and I will only generally talk about the patterns I use. If you are reading this report for said information, I apologize but I will not risk disclosing my secrets to the demise of the trout on the Current River.
So Henry, Ryan and I got in our trucks and drove to our spot somewhere within the first seven miles of river down from the park. We took two cars because Ryan had to meet up with his ride home at 10:30 at the lodge. The plans was for Henry to drop Ryan off at 10:30 and come back to find me and fish for the afternoon.
The first thing I noticed when we got to our spot, was that the water was running a little high and the clarity was off. In my opinion, on the Current River this is a good thing. The river has been running very low lately which makes the fish extra spooky. With another 8 inches of water or so, an abundance of new pockets open up where fish will hold. The clarity issue works both ways. It helps because the fish can't see you as easily but, at the same time, you can't see the fish as well either. This can be good if you know where they're supposed to be, but if your new to the river it can be frustrating. I like the water a little merky. The fish are less weary, have more room to move around and feed, and the big boys often come out to play.
We started our day with streamers. Ryan moved upstream and Henry and I moved down. Henry, an amazing duck hunter and caller, went out of his way this past waterfowl season to give me some pointers in the duck blind. I had never seen Henry fish before, but I was more than ready to try to return the favor on the river, if necessary.
Right off the bat, Henry was on the board. I think he put four rainbows in hand within the first 30 minutes. I was getting embarrassed. I missed one streamer hit and had nothing to show for myself after throwing some pretty decent casts into a deep cut out bank. I switched flies, I switched techniques. I couldn't buy a trout. Not even a "stocker." I was fishing water where I know big fish held. I had caught them there before. Something was off. Perhaps my luck had run out after Walter and the proposal.
Henry and I kept moving down stream. He continued to find success, I continued to get skunked. Not soon after we arrived at a patch of water that I really wanted to fish, it was time for Henry to take Ryan back to the lodge. I told Henry where I was headed and he hiked back upriver hoping to be back in a hour or so. Pressure was off. I wanted to show off some skills but I basically sucked. Oh well, he would be back soon.
As Henry disappeared upstream, I approached a particular island I like to fish. There are two sides to this island. One side is real skinny water where the stream is narrow and fast flowing. Branches cover about 60% of the fishable water and it's usually quite difficult to avoid snags when trying to get your fly in the kitchen. The higher water exposed a little more fishable area today. The other side of the island is where most people fish and do quite well. The river is significantly wider, deeper, and easier to fish. Just minutes earlier I watched Henry fish the fat side and stick a few bows. I wanted to try the skinny water.
This is typical on the Current and honestly, it's probably a good thing. Most fisherman walk through or overlook some of the best water in the river. I did the same for many years until "Yoda," my buddy who really taught me how to fish this river well, told me to take the road less traveled. "Patience, you must have my young paduan. Appear, the fish will."
Yoda proved right again. I took a knee on the back side of the island poised to hit the skinny water. Even with the water clarity off, with the sun out and shining like it was, I was in perfect view for any fish in this stretch. I sat there for a moment and tied up a new rig. No fish in sight. I threw a little bow and arrow cast for my first drift. My flies moved through the hole quickly and skirted across the shallower tail out at the end of the riffle. As they broke the water, I saw a good brown spook, darting up in to the depths of the hole under the branches. I knew there were fish in there!
I threw a full cast this time toward where the fish moved. My toss was long and snagged a branch on the opposite bank. Damn! I didn't want to lose these flies. I was low on these particular patterns. I also didn't want to walk through the hole because I knew that brown was in there. I laid my rod on the bank, and walked way down river to cross the stream. I climbed up the rocks on the opposite side, wrecked my forearm on some thorns, but was able to release my fly. I actually picked up a nice little caddis emerger that someone else had lost to the same branch in the process. Gotta love adding to your fly box when on the water.
On the way back, I crossed a little closer to the hole. I didn't realize that brown had snuck back into the tail out again. As I stepped into the water, I saw the shadow dart back up into the fast water. Arrrgg! That was stupid. I should have made the hike down again. That could have ruined my chances.
As I took my position on the island again, grabbing a knee, another angler worked his way downstream toward me fishing the fat side of the island. He snickered a little when he saw me on my knees. As I casted, I told him of the brown I had spooked twice. As the words were coming out of my mouth, the fish ate. Boom! Good fish in the net. Where the hell was Henry?
Thank you to the unknown fisherman for taking this picture.
After the release, I reeled up and gave the photographer lead water below the island. My parents taught me to share. I also wanted to see where he was going because I knew exactly where I wanted to go next. I made a little small talk with my new friend while watching him fish. He stuck a pretty good rainbow and I offered to take his picture and email it to him. He politely declined, stating "If I hook a good brown, I'll take you up on that offer."
A few minutes passed. It was almost 11:15. Where the hell was Henry? I was hungry so I decided to hike back up toward the car and hopefully intercept him as he was headed down stream. Worst case scenario, if I got all the way to my truck, I could grab a quick bite to eat out of my cooler. Henry was my excuse to head toward lunch.
When I got to my car, I didn't see Henry's truck. I found out later that he was forced to leave due to a miscommunication. Apparently, Ryan's ride had either ditched him or did not realize he was supposed to pick him up at the lodge at 10:30. Henry had to take Ryan back to the cabin where they were staying, clean the place, and by the time he was free to get back to the river, it was pretty late in the afternoon. Henry knew I had to leave the river around 3 due to dinner plans related to the engagement so, unfortunately, we did not meet up again the rest of the afternoon.
I was definitely upset but in the back of my mind I knew this was pretty good for fishing. Except for my day with Walter, I have always caught my best and biggest fish when I am "fishing with Han," i.e. fishing solo or fishing by myself. (Sorry for all the Star Wars references.) I think this is because I don't have to share any water, there are less distractions, and honestly, because no one is there to take pictures. That's just the way it seems to work.
So I wolfed down my cold pizza lunch and high-tailed it way down stream away from the growing crowd of fisherman gathering on the river. When I arrived at the spot, I was delighted to see no one within my line of sight. I began to fish. I started a little higher in the pocket than normal because the water was up and a large submerged rock was creating a nice little eddy in the riffle. I was nymphing now. I threw a drift just above the rock. My line drifted over the top and my indicators darted under water. I figured I was hooked on the rock so I executed a half-assed hook set expecting a snag. As I lifted my line, I saw a very large tail swirl. Woah! This was big fish. Too bad I was way late on the hook set. I stuck him and seconds later the fish was gone. That fish was a pig!
I stuck a few "stockers" out of the same riffle, perhaps one little wild rainbow, and moved down further to the water I was used to fishing. As I settled in and stuck a little brown, I heard an engine way off in the distance. What was that? I didn't think they allowed motor boats on the river. How could they? This river is way too small.
I continued to fish dismissing the sound as a power saw or ATV way off in the distance. The noise grew louder and steadier however. I reeled in and walked down stream to see what this was. When I reached the very tail end of the fishable water in my hole, I saw it. A green john boat with gigging lights on the front and a huge outboard jet engine on the back. There were two passengers sitting in swivel fishing chairs like you find in a bass boat. I thought they had to be a rangers. I had nothing to worry about. I had my license and was not breaking any rules. But I have never, in ten years, seen this kind of boat on the river.
The boat got closer, speeding up river leaving an obnoxious wake behind it. It was ruining holes where I knew big fish were sitting. No way I was fishing further down stream anymore. Those fish were down for the rest of the day, if not the week.
I continuted to cast when, about 100 yards down stream from me, I heard a crash followed by a high pitched rev of the motor's RPMs. I looked down as the motor shot out of the water. They had absolutely nailed a submerged rock. This is exactly why these boats should not be here. I now knew this wasn't a ranger. I was absolutely stunned.
The two passengers got out of the craft and dragged the boat across the riffle where they hopefully ruined their engine. I was not so lucky. Shortly after getting through the shallow water, they got back in and fired up the motor again. This time they shot up river until beaching the boat on a little gravel bar barely a 100 feet downstream from me.
That had better be where they stop, I thought to myself. Should I say something? Hell yeah! But, there were two of them, I was solo, and we were in the middle of nowhere. Could I take two of them? These guys were older, probably mid to late 40s or 50s. Where the hell was Henry? We could have handled them together no problem. I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut and I continued to fish. At the very least, perhaps I could catch a few fish in front of them to establish dominance.
As I casted, the two yahoos started shuffling around in their boat. The first guy, who was actually dressed like he knew something about fishing, stood on the stern and took a leak. Real nice. The second guy, wearing neoprene waders and a gray sweatshirt, followed shortly thereafter giggling. Obviously these guys were boozing fairly hard. I have no problem with enjoying a little sauce on the river, but once you start disturbing others, it becomes an issue.
After emptying his tank, the second guy got out of the boat and started rigging his rod. He had a huge yarn indicator, and I later found out, a big stone fly nymph followed by a royal coachman streamer. He started casting probably as far as he could. He ran a drift and got nothing. He took a few steps upriver toward me. I tried not to pay attention. He chucked another long cast--nothing. He stepped up further. He was now about 30 feet from me. He reared back, and threw another shot as my line was finishing a modest 15 foot drift. His toss connected directly with my indicators. That son of a b*tch hooked my line! I couldn't believe it. Not only were these guys absolutely disturbing the peace by running a f*cking jet boat on a spring creek, but now the guy had gotten so close to me that he hooked my line. Unbelievable!
The guy started stripping in line. "NO!" I shouted, "I'll get it." I did not want this guy creating a bird's nest in my rig and I also didn't want him seeing what flies I was using. I walked down and took care of the mess he had created. That's when I noticed his stone fly and royal coachman. I threw his flies back in the water. In hindsight, I should have clipped them off and dropped them. He would have probably caught the same number of fish using just his leader.
Anyway, I proceeded to hike back up stream praying that a ranger would show up and bust them. No such luck. About twenty minutes later, after catching zero fish, frick and frack fired up the motor again and cruised back down stream. I'm glad they decided to ruin miles of good water to come all the way up stream, hook my line, and take off. If either of these two gentleman end up reading this blog, which I doubt will ever happen, I'm sorry for making fun of you but learn some stream etiquette. SERIOUSLY!
Back upstream at the honey hole, I took a breather asking myself if that really just happened. I took off my backpack, sat on a log, and decided I needed a new rig. I hadn't had a fish in while now. Maybe it was because of the S.S. Hillbilly, but I was changing the fly combo up anyway.
I turned over a few rocks to see what was going on with the bugs and I found this huge scud (CLICK ON THE PICTURE TO ENLARGE):
That's definitely one of the largest scuds I had ever seen. Maybe I should try some larger nymphs, I thought. I abided by my instinct and tied on a big nymph that will remain nameless. I put on some extra split shot to make sure my rig would get to the bottom on high water and started casting. I connected immediately. I think it was the first or second cast. When I set the hook, I knew it was a good fish.
First, I could tell the fish was heavy. The littler guys usually lift right off the bottom and you can quickly get a visual. It took several minutes before I saw this fish roll. When he did, I knew immediately that it was 20 inches or better. My heart rate quickened. I got the fish on the reel, and moved down stream. He rolled again and wrapped the lead fly around is caudal fin. Damn! It was now or never. I had to pull him into shallow water where he could be netted. I had no leverage with the lead fly hooked up like that. I managed to coax the fish into calmer water, unfastened my net, and swiped. Got him! A real good Current River male brown. I looked both up and downstream to see if anyone was within ear shot who could take some pictures for me. Nothing. Where the hell was Henry? I took a few shots of the fish in my net.
The bucket of my net measures 17 inches. That fish's nose is approximately one inch out of the front of the bucket, and his tail, 3 to 4 inches out of the back. I had him at roughly 21 inches.
He had a nice fat belly as well.
With the fish in the net, I even tried setting the timer and placing the camera on a log:
Not great, but it proves I caught him. Where the hell was Henry?
After the release of this fish, I literally connected on the next cast with the same big nymph. After a short struggle, I got a visual. Again, 20 inches or better. This one, unfortunately, took advantage of a weak point between my lead fly and the dropper. The tippet must have been damaged during my fight with the first fish. I should have been more careful.
Oh well. I was pumped I got the first one. At this point it was about 2:30 and I needed to head for my truck to make it to dinner. Great day. I ended up putting 10 or so fish in the net. I hooked the two good browns I have pictures of and lost two other real good-sized fish. I'll be back again soon.
1 comment:
I love your blog. I can't wait to read more. Keep it coming!
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