On a Mission: Part 1

To quote a fellow fly fishing junkie, I needed a bender. I've been lucky to get in a decent amount of fishing this season, but like all debilitating addictions hobbies- it just never seems like enough. With the wife and baby out of town with family last weekend, I had forty eight hours to fish completely irresponsibly. So, for the past two days a bender is exactly what I got. Two posts worth. Here's day one.

First on the list was another boat trip on the reservoir for smallies… this is a habit that seems to be only getting more severe. It's tough to beat the action of hard fighting bass. And casting for distance without a branch in sight is worth the trip alone. Our little streams aren't exactly the place for a double haul. But this time the fishing was not nearly as action packed as it has been earlier in the year. My guess is that bass are seeking cooler deep water. They just weren't around the shorelines in any consistent numbers. Then again, maybe I wasn’t looking in the right place. I'm no bassmaster, that's for sure.Trolling some streamers over drop offs produced a couple decent smallies, but that's not exactly the thrill of casting to feisty bass I had in mind. It was a gorgeous hot sunny day, which made for a nice morning on the water though probably wasn't doing much good for the fishing. Time to move on.

After some lunch and break from the sun, it was time for trout. I won't name the stream I visited with the friend who wisely prefers to keep it quiet, and also for my own selfish motivation to do the same. What a beautiful spot. I had low expectations for early afternoon fishing in July… but right out of the gate I connected with a healthy and large rainbow on a WD40 nymph. And it was a wily one. When I got it within reach it swam a quick circle around my ankles, breaking the tippet and speeding off in one motion. If trout could laugh, this one would be cackling for sure. We fished upstream a bit and the head of a nice little pool produced this pretty little brown. It zipped up and down the pool when it was hooked until I netted it and got a quick photo. We stuck around a bit, but it was getting increasingly hot and that cooler of beer and water in the truck was calling our names.

Next stop: the more well known and heavily fished West Branch. I hadn't been back there since that last epic sulphur hatch I fished, and I'd been thinking about it ever since. Fishing there in the evening is one of my favorite places to be. This being the weekend, I expected the pull-off to be full, but surprisingly there was only one other vehicle parked there. It was late afternoon by then, and I was wondering if there would be anything hatching. The sulphurs may be gone with the crowds, but now is the time for caddis to take over and they were definitely around. Not in any great numbers, but enough to keep fish rising steadily for the evening. I rigged up an elk hair caddis and an emerger dropper and worked my way through the slow water. I've been concerned about the water temperatures here. I've heard conflicting stories about whether recent work on the dam had fixed the issues with the water flows. Unfortunately, it seems that whatever was done wasn't enough. The water was right around seventy degrees, which is definitely on the warm side for trout. It will only get warmer as the summer goes on and this stream will soon be out of commission for yet another year. What a shame. The action wasn't as intense as my last visit, but every so often a brown would grab the emerger with a splashy take. The dry fly was mostly ignored, with maybe a couple exceptions. Given that I practically yanked the fly out of the mouths of the takers, it was hard to tell which of the flies they were going for. I'm still working on taking that crucial little pause before setting a dry fly. The often recommended time it takes to say "God save the Queen" seems unbearably long to wait for an impatient guy like me. Couldn't be any worse than a missed hook set that ends up in the trees though, that's for sure. As it got dark it seemed to slow down a little more. The rises were scarce and nymphing wasn't feeling very appealing. Time to call it a day. At this point I was almost exhausted from a full day of fishing streamers, poppers, nymphs, and dries all over the place. I needed some rest. I still had twenty four hours to fish.

Father's Day Bass

There's nothing I would like more than take my son fishing for Father's Day, but we have at least a few years until that's going to happen. At seven months, he's mostly into steady naps- between brief periods of mayhem. I do hope to strap him into the baby bjorn and fish a safe, non-wading stream for a little while one of these days, just to see if it can be done. In the meantime, this Father's Day I settled for some solo fishing before joining the little guy and mom at home for the afternoon. I first had to make the difficult decision of where to go. I've had precious little time on the Croton streams so far, just one evening session that was short but sweet. I haven't even been to the Amawalk yet this season. I love it there, but I don't always catch fish.  And catching fish was definitely the goal this time. A sunny morning on a pressured stream isn't exactly a sure thing. In the end, I went for the closest thing to guaranteed action there is and took the boat out on Kensico to hunt for smallmouth bass. I've had a lot success this time of year drifting the shorelines and throwing poppers and streamers. It's tough to pass up a sure thing. And being able have a cooler of  beer within reach while fishing on a hot sunny day doesn't hurt either.

I set the alarm for 5:30 and was surprised to see the sun well on its way up already. I moved quickly and by 6:00 I was on the water and rowing to my favorite spot. I usually troll a streamer as I row, and right after I spotted something on the fish finder the rod bowed deeply- just like I hoped it would. This fish was putting up a strong trout-like fight- especially considering this was a 10 weight trolling rod. The ultimate goal on Kenisco, which I have yet to do, is to catch a big reservoir brown on the fly and I thought this might be the day. I was completely shocked when I saw the bright colors of a lowly yellow perch. A big one, actually, but not a brown. Oh well.

I made it to the shoreline where I usually find bass and started casting a big deer hair popper. I had a couple missed strikes, but the bass were mostly pretty elusive for the first hour or so. Finally I tried a streamer dropper, using the popper like an indicator and suddenly smallies started coming out of the woodwork. I didn't see them just cruising around like I have this time of year, they were tucked way into the overhanging branches and waiting to pounce. They went nuts for the black wooly bugger, completely ignoring the popper.  I didn't bother counting, I must have landed well over 20 fish throughout the morning. They were mostly little guys, but there were four bruisers that were a blast to tussle with, complete with jumps and deep runs at the boat. I had the security of 15lb fluoro tippet and an 8 weight rod that gave me the bullying power to get them to the net quickly. As I was fighting the largest one of the day, another big one swam over and followed it so closely I thought for a second I had hooked them both. After I let the first one go, I made another drift past the same tree and that second one came back to take a swipe at my streamer that promptly landed him in the net as well.  By now, I was feeling pretty good about my decision to fish Kenisco, I've never seen that happen on a trout stream. Eventually wind kicked up, like it always does on the reservoir, and the drifts got shorter and harder to manage. It was an easy decision to call it a day- the whole morning had been perfect and beyond satisfying. I don't know how long to wait to take my son fishing, but when he's ready I know we'll have a day just like this one.

Reservoir trout on the fly

One of my longtime goals has been to catch a Kensico trout on a streamer and yesterday it finally happened. It was a perfect windless day to be on the water, so I got out there at dawn and headed for deep water. Kensico is a huge body of water and in order to encounter a cruising trout the best method by far is rowing with sinking line and using sonar to find the fish and the bottom structure. I covered a lot of ground while slowly trolling an articulated rabbit fur streamer, as deep as I could get it. At one point I marked a cluster of fish holding roughly where I thought my streamer was. And then suddenly the rod bowed deeply. After reeling in about 100 feet of line (with 50 feet of fluoro leader) and two long runs at the boat, I had a thrashing laker in the net. Not a huge trout, by reservoir standards, but it was pretty satisfying after putting in a lot of effort trying to catch one on a fly for a while now. The ultimate goal is to connect with one of the monster browns that these reservoirs hold and I think I have a chance now that I've figured out an effective trolling rig. And when the water gets even colder they'll be near the shorelines, within casting reach. That's something I'd love to accomplish and it seems slightly more possible now with the right conditions. And a lot of luck.

Reservoir Smallies

In

After what seems like endless rain, the fishing options have been pretty limited for weeks. The streams are totally blown out- I checked out the East Branch while driving by and it's higher and more chaotic than I've ever seen it. But I wanted to fish.  So, Kensico it was. This morning was perfect reservoir fishing weather- barely any wind and a little overcast. I was able to take my time and row along the shoreline, tossing a popper at the occasional rises I saw. And unlike picky trout, the bass would usually hit the fly when it landed near them. The popper also got some refusals from the deeper dwellers- so I rigged up a streamer dropper and that was the ticket. I hadn't tried this before. Using the popper like an indicator made it easy to see strikes, though the water was so clear I saw most of the fish take it under the surface. Apparently smallies can't resist a black woolly bugger. I love the simplicity of bass fishing. I didn't have to change or adjust this rig all day and the action was steady. It's been a real disappointment to have the streams off the table for almost two weeks in prime trout time- but today made me really appreciate Kensico and the bass that thrive there.

Kensico Bass

Temperatures are high, as is the water on most streams- so I took a break from the trout and hit Kensico for some bass fishing this morning. It's known mostly for its trout fishing, but this reservoir is just full of largemouth and smallmouth bass and they are a blast to catch on the fly. One area in particular is the ideal habitat: flats, drop offs, submerged logs and lots of the rocky structure that smallmouths thrive in. I drifted along the shoreline here and threw a popper at any structure I could see in the clear water. The action was almost nonstop. Every few casts a dark shadow would dart out from cover and just smash the popper on the surface. Or some would leisurely inspect the fly for a minute and then pounce when I gave it a twitch.

Every fish was a scrappy fighter, but one almost took me into the backing. I set the hook and the bass just took off on an immediate, powerful run. I made the mistake of letting it go, thinking I was in deep water and in the clear. Nope. It quickly took most of my line and then just stopped. Naturally, it had found a log on the bottom and gotten tangled up. I rowed over and tried to free it, but it managed to break the tippet and escape with my favorite Orvis sneaky pete. I did get to see it briefly underwater- a football of a largemouth. Definitely would have been the largest fish of the day. Lesson learned. With the 4x tippet I had on, I should have put more pressure on and stopped that run. Those bass dudes on TV horse them in for a reason- bass always run for cover. All in all, it was a really fun morning on the water. If it wasn't so damn hot I could have stayed there all day.