First Day of Spring-

Wish I could tell you boys I had a helluva day, and caught many fish, alas, it was not to be. It was one of those days were you work hard, fall hard, stumble around, curse flies and fish.... but ultimately, you land a trout, and it's all worth it. Such was the case today. It was just good to be outside.. fishing were there is not a chance of anyone fishing above or below you. No motorcycles nor four wheelers.. just you and water.

The 411: Fished above Porcupine. Weather, 45-50 deg. Water a bit glacial colored. Fish, not many. After fruitlessly plumbing the lower end of the stream, I was about to call it quits. Something in the back of my mind, questioned whether I should head upstream, to the open area, get out of this pocket water. Thus I did. It was only a short jaunt from where I ended in the pocket water, to the open grassy area near the girls camp. The first run I cast into I hooked the below featured trout. No skunk for Pablo.

Shortly thereafter, I retired for the day, glad to have been out, and to have landed a trout. All in all, the new gear (I've become a gear whore) worked quite well. The waders were great, breathed nicely. The chest pack was wonderful. The hat, light and comfortable. My feet, cold. Still working on that dilemma. Went directly to town, and the local Roundrocks fly shop, and bought more gear. YES!

Till next time... adieu.

Rain and 40 Deg

Forecast called for mid 40's and rain, that sounds like the Togiak in July eh. So I packed gear the night before and got up early and made it to the Jfork by 8:20am. Surprise, Surprise, there were not 14 car loads waiting to get in today, hmmmm, wonder why. It was raining so hard I backed rightup to the Kibo at the lower horse trailer parking lot so I could change under the canopy. Both pairs of liners (polypro and 400wt camos), two pairs of wool socks and an extra neoprene booty over the sock foot of the wader, it was a little tight in the boot, but felt "OK" once it got wet. Hardest part was raising my knee high enough to get my boots on. With all that "stuff" down my waders, it limited the range of motion, but not a problem. Sweatshirt, 300wt fleece, wading jacket up top. Threw on a balaclava and man, that made a big difference, very warm head and neck. Only problem was my dang hood on the wading jacket kept getting down over my eyes, driving me crazy and of course my glasses kept fogging up, but I couldn't see anything anyway with it so dark and raining on the lenses. Eventually I figure out if I put my ballcap under the hood it kept it out of my face. The gloves where hard to get on, not sure I'll be able to wear polyprop liners under them, but they were actually warm and although we've debated the finger/thumb opening, I'm glad I've got them cause it's such a hassle to pull the gloves on and off, and actually you can blow into the holes and warm up your fingers a little.



Anyway, the fishing was tough. Couldn't see anything and with those gentle takes, I missed several fish. The vid explains the rest. Feet got just a little cold after 4 hours, not freezing or miserable, but they weren't warm anymore, not sure what the answer is there. More space in the boot might help. Also realized when I got out and changed clothes that my fleece was damp on the sleeves- that waterproof breathable just doesn't quite cut it, I wonder if there is a truly waterproof breathable jacket, maybe made out of the same stuff the waders are made out of??



Any way, that'll probably be my only "wet run" of the gear. No question I'll be in better shape than last year to cope with the weather, but I'm still hoping it's sunny and 65 all 8 days. Suite me to never even open my dry bag.

Rolling Clear Water

On the water by 1:30, back on the top section where I was Thursday. Immediately it was obvious that the weekend had produced a pounding. The holes where I took 10 fish now were visibly empty. Took a little while to get in the groove, but once I stopped "retail" fishing and just hitting the spots, the stream came alive, it actually felt more like a stream that size should with 1-2 fish in likely spots and some runs with no fish (at least not seen or caught). No need to do a blow by blow. The egg worked well, the takes where so subtle that several times I had a fish on for a second when I didn't know it and lost them because of no set. The water was gorgeous, very high and full, giving lots of cover. Found a really neat run backed up by a big windfall and after taking two specks on the drifting egg switched up to a lime trude and caught three more nice ones on a submerged strip. Two memorable moments: I got up into the bank and under trees to fish this one run and just as the egg was easing out into the current a big head flashed up and gently took it. I jerked my rod back right into a branch and the line went slack and he spit it out- combat fishing, you gotta love it. Later at another deep run a big head rose and opened his mouth like jaws. His head came completely out of the water with his mouthing gaping open and somehow I jerked the fly and he missed it completely, I swear I heard his teeth snap together. Don't know that I've ever seen such a gaping rise.

I met the friendly park ranger and he checked my license (doesn't even have a license Lisa- name that movie) and we had nice chat. He said he opened on Saturday and there were 15 "car loads" waiting at the gate at 8am. Said Sunday wasn't as bad... This is definitely a weekday thing. Even so, there were several fishermen out today, most of them older gentlemen that stayed closed to the bank and fished the big deep holes, so I had my pickins of the riffles and shallow stuff, which suited me fine.

On my way out an older fisherman approached and low and behold it was my old buddy Dennis from Mecklinberg IT. We had a nice chat, I hadn't seen him in 7 or 8 years and was surprised that his name came right to me, must be that spiritual fishing connection thing. He was actually right above me on the stream and told of taking a big brown on a woolly bugger after he'd hooked it three times and it got off. I told him about our AK adventure and he mused dreamily that his shot at AK had probably passed him buy but for some guided thing which he wasn't too fond of, I know I liked that guy!

So basking in the peace of a successful Monday jaunt and diet coke buzz, I merrily rode home, not a cloud in my mind. The rolling hills eased by, dotted with cows, old homes and delapidated barns, shirtless scraggly teenagers and old guys in trucks who we mutually nod and wave our hellos through our windshields like old friends as we zip past each other at 50 mhp, and all is right with the world. What a gift, what a blissful gift to have my mind empty of all concern. A free gift from rolling clear water and speckled little Salvelinus fontinalis.

A New Favorite Section?

Took the "rook" out to Jfork. Hit the rangers house section. When we first put in at the shed, I spotted a group of specks in a shallow run- perfect! But after drifting 2 microscopic flys over them I only got some tepid interest. The rook went up ahead a ways and with his 9' rod was finding it challenging to stay in water instead of adlers. I decided to move up and gave him a wide berth with lots of fishable water. After finding no fish in big run, deep hole, slick rock and Christain's pool, I was scratching my head. The water was really high, but gin clear, and slick rock had a totally different look and current to it. We decided to venture further up and see what else was going on. We stopped at the camp ground and looked around but saw no fish so we went up to the last parking lot and looked around and there were a number of fish in the run just upstream from the viewing platform. There were also a number of fisherman milling around at each of the stops, so it was obvious that DWR had made a visit and jobs were taking a back seat to casting.

After a few refusals the Rook reminded me that the guy at the orvis shop and sold him and insisted that egg and egg variations were the way to go. So I tied on an egg and fished it on top like a dry and on the second cast a speck came up and gently nibbled it- wham, a miss. Next cast, fish on! First fish of 09. I took about 8 out of that run. The rook was struggling. I moved up, this is the upper section, which I fished once last year with great success. This is pure dryfly water, shallow and plenty of runs. The fish where spread out nicely. On one section I found a nice rocky cut bank with a narrow run.... Looked like a good Brownie lair. I bounced the egg off the rock and as it eased down the channel a big head came up and then a second head shot up to snatch it from the first- whoohooo, but a miss. Next drift another flash but nothing, then third drift and here he came a thick trout casually took it in and we were off. Turned out to be another speck, but much larger than the others so far. And so it went.

The sun dipped below the trees and the air took on it's March chill and I ended up at a middling deep pool taking trout on the first 9 casts, twice two fish fought for the fly. A brown lost it's mind, tired of seeing his aggressive speck cousins one up him and actually came out of the water and took the fly on the way down! It was an absolute free for all. Most the fish ran about 13", with enough girth to bend your rod and keep you from pulling them out of the water. I got to the point where I was talking to them, fondly expressing my appreciation and complimenting them on their style of take and beating their brethren to the prize. Eventually my hands were freezing and the sun had wained and the rook was no where around. I kept waiting for him to round the bend and come into sight where if he hadn't taken fish I could put him into my spots, but he never came. So I got up on the trail and hoofed it back to the parking lot. He was in the first hole where I started and had caught two fish. He'd lost his egg pattern early on and nothing else much was working.

All in all, a great day! 30+ specks in a couple of hours. I could do this tomorrow and the next day, and the day after! Season has arrived. Until June I'll have easy access on many an afternoon to some eager brookies. Eventually I'll find a full day and get back to the wild water, see what's going on there, but for now, the J Fork is my honey.

Good for the Soul

When one walks outside on a clear day in March (intending to work) and is greeted by the sun and a warm 55 degree breeze, there is but one thing to do. Make a mad dash back into the house gathering fly rod/waders/boots/vest/hat/(what'd I forget?) throwing them all pell mell into the back of the fish mobile and lay rubber all the way to the stream.

What a day! I shan't bore you with all the details... suffice it to say I shared time with mule deer, a gaggle of wild turkey's and a few willing trout. The glorious sun shone, giving me hope that the dark days of winter were at last waning. Oh the crunch of crusted snow.... the cool water lapping about my legs... brrrr. that's a bit too cold... damn, that's cold... what the ??

A nice tear in the waders! The fish Gods smiled as if at an inside joke.. knowing full well I'd just cyber-visited the great of Halls of all Things Cabelas, therein buying a brand spanking new set of waders!!! Glory be! Only one week till they are in my greedy little hands.

Speaking of hands, you know the saying.... "a cold trout in the hand is worth... what?" Fill in the blank.

I cannot put into words the nourishment to my hell bound soul, to be back in the water after such a long and cold winter. Like the Gov'na says, "it's all about just being there". Boys, I make you all a commitment right now, I will be there a whole lot more.......

Waxing Philosophical

I have a Sunday evening ritual which evolves right around the first dreamy thoughts of spring. I first check my blackberry (that's a modern day implement of slavery to you freemen) to see what my afternoons look like for the coming week.. Hm, Thursday or Friday look good- couple of things but they are... castable.... Then pull up weather.com (don't you love the access to fishing info) and Friday shows 50% chance of rain, but Thursday, cloudy 10% chance and 63 degrees. Mmmm, what sweet pickins. So I unload my booty from the recent Cabalas run and stow my tiny little flies (see note to self from last entry) and my 7x tippet and flat rock pool is already in sight, now I just have to keep my nose to the stone for the next four days and I'm in water.

The mission statement of Trout Magic really captures it all. Is fishing that important? No, but for those of us who have chipped the hard baked clay from our souls to find our spiritual moorings to this beautiful earth on which we walk with all of her lovely variety and thrilling wild life, the man made pursuits of modern man seem so... foolish. Yes, many people have their escapes. Many paint their faces on Sunday and scream their lungs out with 100,000 of their closest friends as gridiron monsters crash into each other in true gladiator fashion, and others haunt the man made valley's in search of that perfect swing and that elusive par, I hear the siren call of these "pursuits". But these are not by brethren, nor are the decaled, big motor, yankem into the boat, competitive fisherman. No, there are only a relative handful who have chipped away the last shards of adam's sweat induced clay and found the real peace, the real tranquility which a $1,000 rod and all the orvis gear in the world can't buy. I'm more akin to the little asian guys I saw sitting on a bucket drowning worms in the lake, hoping to fill that bucket with dinner. They fish out of necessity, to feed their bellies. I fish out of necessity to feed my soul.

The Old Haunts in Winter

The scriptures say, that by your thoughts you shall know them.... That certainly holds true for a fisherman. Even in winter, it's never far from my thoughts. As luck would have it, a few short days after the tactical blunder I was at a community event and ran into an old fishing buddy from my days working for the County. Although he too had long since left that employ for greener pastures and "they just aint as much stress in my job now as that other'n" meaning, he can laze around more and fish frequently, who can blame such a man? Anyway, after pleasantries and sharing that I'd just run into his bosom fishing buddy Charlie just a few weeks earlier at a corning event (truly, the fish gods have been active in my life this winter- must be the Alaska residue, what say ye?) I shared my latest outing to upper lost cove and begged for info- "ol bro, remember that I used to be your big boss and instead of ratting you out to your supervisor when you and charlie were lazing around, I'd sit on a bucket and we'd talk fishin' for hours on end, all the time on the clock, now please, man, tell me where you fish in the winter."

He scratched his scruffy beard for a minute and I could sense his hesitation. "I was actually thinkin on fishing tomorrow you know."

"oh yah, where?"

"you can always go odor to the davidson, but them fish is seen it all and that aint that fun"

"yah, yah, I've been there, those fish are obnoxiously finicky...."

"you ever been over there to the church?"

"You mean on the watagua?"

"Yah"

"Yes, I have been there"

"That's a good one"

My thoughts "what the??? that's delayed harvest man, they quit stocking that in October you mean to tell me there's fish carrying over the winter???"

"Hmmm"

"I like south mountain to, caught a few nice ones there the other week."

"Really, hmmm, so south mountain, yeah, I think I've heard of it...."

"ok man, you looking good, take care I'll see you again in 10 years when the fish gods weave our paths back together."

So, with new intel, I'm thinking, when, when, when can I go.... So on Tuesday morning I rise early and dress for another work day. I drop the kids off at their schools and then head.... back to the house. Quickly I throw my stuff in the trunk. I've got a 3:30 meeting I can't miss, but everything this morning can be ...cast aside, no one will ever know I went fishing. A wisper of guilt drifts across my mind- man this must be how it feels to have an affair- but my mistress is pure and my guilt insincere.....hehehheee. and I'm off.

It's a beautiful day in February, one of those day's when April pokes it's head into winter just to tease you're casting wrist. Temp about 70, little cloud cover. I hit my old haunt, right there at the ranger house, fish that section away from the road that takes a little more effort to get to. Tuesday, not a soul in sight, this is MY Park, I own this stream! The little rod feels so sweet and natural in my hands. I tie on a dry and start working the sides, thinking, it's browns that have survived. The first few runs I don't raise or see anything. Then as I get up to the pool right at the house, a dark shadow darts from in front of my foot, a brown, a skittish little brown who's survived the winter- my buddy was right.

I can't locate or bring him back up, so I ease to the next hole. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a big fat rainbow and eight tiny rain deer! The bo was big, sharking around in the deep pool (I'm naming this pool Big Gourge). I tried the dry, too deep they weren't coming up. I tied on a brasshead nymph, a look, a look, come on! look and leave. Tie on a streamer and some split shots, drop him way down there on the bottom. Let him sit. Then twitch, twitch... .nothing, just turn away and head to the back of the pool! Dang it.... Two more fly's five different angles, nada. Who was I kidding, he'd seen me, and wasn't still here because he could be easily fooled.

I scaled the rocks to the next run. A slow flat fairly shallow but big run just below the big pool I have fondly named, "Christian's pool" from last fall. Here I spy the beauties, about 8 of them moving around. I sit patiently and watch... a rise- oh yeah, a rise. Then another! We're in busines boys. Tie on the tiniest little mosquito I've got and still it looks like a styrophome cup floating on that still water! Drat, my first cast lines right on their heads and off they scatter. Ok, rest this one, go check out Christian's pool. One lone fish marks my arrival by shooting from the tail end and out of sight. No visible fish in the pool. I give it a wide berth and work up to the head making a few gentle casts into the riffles feeding the pool. Nothing.

Back to the lower pool (I'm naming this one, Slick Rock). Sit and read the scriptures for a while and eat an orange and dose off sitting in the loop of a root that holds my against the hill, and wonder, isn't this enough? In February, early February to sit in the April sunshine at slick rock pool and watch a few trout rising opposite me. One in no more than 12" of water right on the main flat rock that makes up the middle of the pool.... Eventually, no, it's not enough. So I tie on a greenbody mayfly, tiniest thing I've got (note to self, buy some more smaller fly's for these boys on slick rock). I make a good cast way up and let it smoothly drift down to to below the rock where they are lounging, but drat, the slow current I'm across get's me drag and a line correction causes too much disturbance--- got get a better spot. So I painfully ease out into the water (I'd been standing by the bank casting across to the opposite bank). Slowly, slowly easing across the big slick rock until I can reach the current with my rod tip. An easy cast and now a perfect drift right off the slick rock to the sweet spot.. and HERE HE COMES- a nice little brookie starts up to the fly, "YEAH YEAH YEAH" but just as he takes it, I raise the rod and pop, nada. Either too quick or he had a change of heart just as he got to it. Ok, three more casts, nada. I've learned from these fish that two or three looks is all they will give a fly. So I have to wade back where I've left my vest and tie on another one. A little emerger looking guy with a green body (note to self BUY MORE TINY FLYS). I ease back out to the same spot and wait a few minutes to let everything return to normal. Then a delicate cast and smooth drift. Just as the fly swirls off the slick rock- HERE HE COMES... wait wait, wait, DOH, another miss!!!

So, is that enough. April sunshine, wise wintered fish and two misses? It's already 2pm and I've got to make that 3:30,so yes, yes it is enough and although I have not pictures of fish to post for my snowbound western brethren, my heart soars, I've had one of those rare spring days in winter and ground hog be damned, SPRING is less than six weeks away!

On the happy ride back to reality I have a glimpse of of my future, a glimpse of my pipe dream nestled in some remote valley of some unknown mountain range in a western state over looking a trout stream let's just call, dry creek! Yep boys, this here is the Govna's Mansion and the Govn'a is holding court!