InTheDrift

On and on...

2009-07-23T13:04:00.000-07:00

Tying new patterns, stockpiling gear, marking up maps and countless nights staring at satellite images. Campfires, marathon floats, roadtrips, rope swings and leaky tents. PBR, PBJ and gas station sandwiches. Chasing new fish, hitting new water and making new friends. Busted rods, blown out lines, peeled back felt and pinholes. Early morning topwater explosions, late night spinner sips, mud clouds and crushing streamer grabs. Long weekends, day trips, marathon floats and after work carp sessions.

Though it's only a short list, writing it all down is really all I can do to sum up what the past few months have been full of for myself and several others around me. I've been putting things off here lately in favor of trying to get on the water whenever the opportunity presents itself and if you can't understand that...well, then you probably shouldn't be reading this stuff.

To keep it short, fishing has been up and down much like the weather. Some days have been better than others, but nearly all have been memorable. We've been scouting new water and hitting the familiar stuff pretty regularly as well. Hopefully, you have found some time to get on the water recently and if you haven't, then you shouldn't be reading this stuff right now, you should be fishing. Get out, find some new water, remember some old water. It won't be long before we are dusting off the snow shovels, so get while the gettin' is good!

Spring Suprises

2009-03-26T19:27:00.000-07:00

Who doesn't love suprises? Well, at least the good ones.

Spring has always been a time of suprises that run the range of, "I can't believe we squeezed a float in and actually caught fish," to "I would have never thought a midge hatch could get that thick," or "Can you believe carp will tail in 45 degree water?"I like suprises...

In the past few weeks, we have taken in a good bit of the variety that fishing in our region has to offer. Steelhead, trout, smallmouth and even carp have all been targets of worthy focus lately and all have provided the challenges that we have all missed so much for the last few months.

Flying snowflakes have become replaced by mayflies, steelhead are slowly remembering that they can jump and smallmouth are beginning to begin their prespawn rituals...

Are we out of the woods just yet? Probably not. But you can't ignore a pod of rising trout, a cartwheeling steelhead, or a chattering kingfisher along the stream.

While I'm confident we will be faced with a few suprises of the "bad" variety. Namely, high water and the freak spring snow squall. There is no doubt that things are only going to get better from here and we are definitely off to a strong start. Hopefully you are too...

I Can See the Light!

2009-02-12T17:35:00.000-08:00

"What the hell am I going to do with 10 dozen Gurglers?"

"If I were a Musky, I would eat this thing." (jigging the fly in front of my face as if I were the fish)

"I need more Clousers (staring at a box of about 20 dozen)."

"Maybe if I empty out all of the flies in this box at one time, I could make my own hatch."

...yes boys and girls, these are the thoughts of a guy who has spent a bit too much time leaning over the old head cement jar this winter, but the end is near.

While the boxes actually still have room for a few more flies (don't they always?), it looks like the end of tying season is at least a little closer. How do I know? These little guys told me so...

Dad, Brian and I were actually fortunate enough to get out before the sunshine and warm temps took their toll on the snow and ice and turned every waterway in the state into giant mud flows. While we didn't catch a damn thing, I don't think any of us really cared as we stood under the bright sun and watched the first stoneflies of the year crawl about on the banks. While no fish rose, it was good just to see the bugs fluttering about and to think about the trout that will surely be eating them in all but a few weeks...

Sure, the cold days still outnumber the warm ones by a longshot, but at least we are making progress. The ice is mostly melted and with a little luck, it will stay that way. For now, keep tying, patch the waders, line up the reels and keep your fingers crossed that the light at the end of the tunnel isn't an oncoming train!

As a side note, keep an eye out for the March/April issue of American Angler. I was fortunate enough to have a small piece published in the "Gear I Love" column and I'm really excited to see the article in print.

If you are looking for something to waste more of your precious time, check out the following links to some great videos that have kept me motivated over the winter...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXBsosIV9Dc "Great Lakes Steelhead Chronicles"

http://worldangling.com/blog/archives/tis-the-season-tarpon-season "Tarpon Season"

http://worldangling.com/mediaGallery/mediaGallery.html "World Angling Media Archives"

http://www.drakemag.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=160&Itemid=173&phpMyAdmin=e696Jto0rPxQfBFQGcJTAM1MDQ1 The Drake Magazine Video Contest

http://www.simmsfishing.com/site/video_clips.html Simms Fishing Videos

BRRRRRRR....

2009-01-16T14:06:00.000-08:00

Dear god...why do I live here? According to my little weather station on my computer, it's currently 9 degrees...which is a good thing, because the temperature is actually higher than the 4 degree high that was forecasted for today. The only consistent thing about the last few weeks have been a furnace that seems to never quit running, beer and fly tying....lots of fly tying.

If there is an upside to the big freeze, it's that it forces me to sit back and think about just how lucky we are. Lucky? You must think I am crazy...but just give me a minute here. Looking back at the pictures from the past year has become a frequent reminder of just how great the fishing is here for the 10 months of the year when the temperatures don't stand a good chance of killing you.

Sure, winter is torturous, but the wealth of opportunities that the rest of the year provides more than makes up for the short period of time when we are forced to sleep in (god forbid), think about all the good days we've had, tie flies and plan the trips that will surely make more memories for next winter...

Surely, there will be epic hatches...

Hopefully, we'll find some hungry fish...

Fish some beautiful water....

Harrass some more fish...

...and have so much fun doing it that we forget how lucky we are to have such great fishing so close to home...at least until next winter.

To Protect and Serve...

2008-12-15T17:07:00.000-08:00

The past few weeks have been nothing shorter than a wild rollercoaster in terms of weather and the fishing. Over the last two weeks, the conditions on our favorite waters have gone from perfect, to frozen, to high and muddy, back to frozen and are now back to perfect. Sound crazy? It is, but it's part of winter fishing in western Pennsylvania.
With the steelheading forecast looking grim, Luke and I decided to head south into the Laurel Highlands for a day of trout fishing. The weather forecast was nothing short of spectacular; high of 30 degrees, with sustained winds of 15-20 mph...so what if sarcasm doesn't carry over in writing...this was going to be just stupid.

We opted to head for the warmest water around and headed to the local tailwater in search of a few trout that were fortunate enough to dodge the stringer dragging crew that normally fishes this water. As we neared the summit, a bank sign encouraged nothing more than pouring another cup of coffee when it flashed the temperature reading of 12 degrees at our passing car. I said, "This is ridiculous, this is the first weekend where we shouldn't be fishing...and we are. It's going to be a long winter." Like a good fishing buddy, Luke just chuckled and muttered the same response we always use to justify our stupidity, "At least there won't be a crowd."

Any sane person would tell you that there is a reason why you are the only idiots standing waist deep in water when it's 20 degrees out...but we were grasping at straws here and the idea of having some normally crowded water to ourselves sounded pretty good. Unfortunately, the fishing was extremely tough and even the guy feeding the fish in the outflow hatchery said that the fish haven't been feeding much since the extreme cold set in.

After a quick lunch, we agreed ot scope out some other water and were rewarded with a stream that was empty of fishermen, but full of midging trout. While these were not wild fish, they acted like it. Hovering in the middle of the water column, they darted back and forth, feverishly grabbing the midge larvae that were trying to pop out of the water despite the overwhelming odds that they would freeze before they were airborne. Several browns, rainbows and even a tiger trout came to hand in a relatively short period of time before we decided to check the big river for fish that may be waiting to make a spawning run.

While we didn't find any more fish in the big river, hiking the tributaries and along the rocky banks under a steady snow provided some gorgeous conditions...

The following weekend forecasted much more comfortable temperatures to fish under, so Josh and I planned to get after some steelhead with what looked like a short window of opportunity on Sunday. Unfortunately, the comfortable temperatures were offset by a steady downpour that built up over the course of the day. Fortunately, good raingear ensured that our minds stayed focused on the steelhead that decided they wanted to tear the rods from our hands....

After catching a few fish on eggs and blowing the cobwebs out, we swung bunny flies for the rest of the day and found numerous fish that were more than willing to run down and blast a fly despite the freezing water temperatures...

Staying at it until dusk, we hooked enough fish to keep things interesting and were excited to return the the warm car to dry out. We both looked forward to hot coffee, some food and a Steeler game to listen to on the ride home. As we approached the road, we were both greeted with a suprise that neither one of us were expecting...

It's hard to miss a red pickup, but despite looking our hardest, we couldn't find any sign of Josh's wheels but a pair of skid marks left in the gravel. Immediately, we thought the worst. It was dark, cold and we were wet, and left without a ride 2 1/2 hours from home.

Josh's truck was loaded with hunting and fishing gear and the immediate thought was that someone made off with the truck, gear and all. This concern was calmed a bit after we called the Ohio State Police, who informed us that the truck had been towed because it was parked on the "road" and was a hazard.

As we sat in the dark on the side of the road, things were looking pretty bleak. The rain continued to pour down as the dispatcher brought us up to speed on what had happened to the truck. Someone had called about the truck with out of state plates and a tow truck had taken it 5 miles down the road to the impound lot.

I explained out predicament and asked, "Can you please send a trooper over here to give us a ride to the impound lot?"

"I'm sorry sir, the Ohio State Police are not a taxi service..." the dispatcher responded.

I swear, I choked on my tongue. "To protect and serve..." was what I thought. Thankfully, I held that one back, as now was not the time for smart remarks. I pleaded, "Ma'am, I need you to understand what is happening here. We are standing on the side of the road, it is dark, raining and it is 35 degrees out here because the police took our truck away. I am not asking the Ohio Police for a ride, I am asking them for help."

"I can give you the number of the towing company and a taxi company. You can call them and see what they can do for you." She responded. We were furious...

Maybe we were in the wrong, but this was ridiculous. As I pleaded back and forth and gathered what information I could from the woman on the other end of the phone, we were greeted with the best news I had heard all year. The tow truck driver would pick us up. Maybe he wanted his money, maybe he was just a good person...who knows...who cares...we were getting out of there.

Upon picking us up, the driver told us how the trooper attempted to contact us over his loudspeaker so we could move the car. I guess it was a good try, but why not run the plates and call the number of the owner of the car? Why not just move it? What if we wouldn't have had our phones? This could have been bad...VERY bad.

Regardless, we made it to the truck and even got to hear the end of a great football game, but the whole thing left a sour taste in our mouths. While we can laugh about it now, I can only imagine what could have happened if a few crucial events wouldn't have been said.

Despite the hardships, the fish are still pumping in, are extremely aggressive and the crowds have died down a good bit. Go get 'em while you still can! (Just watch where you park)

A Great Time For a Long Weekend

2008-12-03T16:53:00.000-08:00

While winter has set in a bit early here in western PA, the fishing is still going very strong. Fortunately, I was able to spend two days on the water over the long Thanksgiving weekend. Both of which provided some great fishing and memorable events for all involved.

I spent Wednesday with Dan and Jarret fishing under what could only be called "abnormal conditions." The creek was WAY higher than normal, but for some reason was still teetering on the brink of fishable. After messing around on some smaller water, we decided to give the high water a go and were rewarded with lots of fresh fish with almost nobody around...

Why no pictures of Dan? I assure you he caught his share of fish, but he swore his hands weren't ready for being wet and cold after two weeks of grabbing these things...

..can't say I blame him.

Saturday was the day that many of us were really looking forward to. Julia was freed up from her school responsibilities for the break and was pumped to do some fishing, regardless of the weather and having to get up at 4:45.

It didn't take long before Julia was back to her usual antics of making us "regulars" and many others on the stream look like fools...

On both days, we lost count of how many fish were brought to hand, but one thing was very apparent; The fish have definitely lost much of their zip due to the cold temps. The knuckle busting, line burning runs of the fall are now a thing of the past and "death roll" season has truly begin. This is a sure sign that we are into winter for the long haul and it won't be long before we are seeing iced over and slushy streams and thinking of warm spring days. The good news is that there are still plenty of fresh fish to be had, so get it in while you can!

As a side note: Check out stuartflyfishing.blogspot.com for some great saltwater photos and some good stories from Stuart, FL. Capt. John Meskauskas runs Stuart Fly Fishing and treated us to some good times during our time spent in the area a few years back. Look him up if you are headed to the Stuart/Ft. Pierce area anytime soon and you won't be disappointed!

It's That Time of Year Again...

2008-11-23T18:23:00.000-08:00

There is a lot to be said about people who fish for steelhead. Most fishermen would say that steelheaders are a dedicated, skilled group of anglers who laugh in the face of adversity for the chance of hooking up with just one fish. Anyone else would call us flat out crazy, or even dumb.

There is no time when that stupidity is more apparent than when you are looking at slush flows while chipping ice off of your line, rod, reel and even flies. All this while your toes are past the painful point of being frozen and any exposed skin is begging you to reconsider how you have decided to spend your Saturday morning.

With the quick onset of winter, these thoughts ran through my head on numerous occasions this week. The problem is that one thing continued to override any speck of reason that may still be left in my frostbitten brain...steelhead...and lots of them.
Nearly a half inch of rain, followed by heavy lake effect snows brought many streams and fish the water that they had been begging for all fall. Stream levels have finally reached their normal winter flows and the fish are responding by moving quickly upstream in big numbers. While water temps have nose dived to near freezing over the last week, plenty of fresh and old fish are still working their way in.

It was with this in mind that Meg, Luke and I headed north for Meg's first trip of the season. The plan definitely panned out, with numerous hookups providing a welcome distraction from numb toes and stinging fingers. It's always fun to watch someone work the cobwebs out when it comes to fighting big fish and Meg provided some early morning entertainment while being spanked on by numerous fish.
While there was a bit of rust to knock off, she was quickly grabbing fish out of the net with an enthusiasm most of us only save for days when it's above freezing...

Not one's for being shown up, Luke and I did our best to keep up with Meghan's quickly building tally...

Fishing was nothing short of stellar, but the day was marred a bit by 30 seconds of total chaos that involved all three of us and a fish that looked to be pretty significant attached to Meg's line. While she played the loss off much better than me (I wanted to cry and throw up all at the same time), she later admitted that just holding that fish would have been really nice. I think she might have a bit of the bug...

After restocking the fly boxes and thawing my feet, I anxiously watched the weather to see what the following days would bring. Heavy lake effect storms and bitter cold continued to make things not look very promising, but Sunday provided a bit of hope with a forecasted high of 40 degrees and sunshine projected for most of the day.

Forgetting what a pain slush can be, Josh, Dad and I jumped in the truck for an early morning crack at some water that we've been neglecting a bit lately. Unfortunately, the stream had other plans for us. Overnight lows in the teens and morning temps that weren't far behind had me questioning my sanity and reaching for the Ice-Off paste a bit too many times for mid-November...

We fought slush for 2 hours, waiting for it to burn off. It was becoming quickly apparent that it was going to take a good bit of warming to even put a dent in the Slurpee-like conditions we had encounter and decided to head elsewhere after making a phone call to a friend who reported good conditions to the east.

We made the jump and were quickly into fish upon getting into the water. Dad had quickly headed downstream, while Josh and I worked through some water closer to the car. Imagine our surprise when we rounded the corner to find "the big buck" latched into this thing...

Where can the day go after putting 13lbs of fresh fish into the net? To be honest, we didn't care. This fish had surely made the day, if not most of the season worthwhile. But it wasn't over yet. Numerous fish were brought to hand on various eggs and nymphs, but the real fun started when the fish took a liking to swung streamers.

So, while our fingers and toes are numb from the cold, our fly boxes are ravaged and our gear is in total disarray again, the memories of days like these will surely keep us going for what is starting to look like a very long winter...

The Tug is the Drug...

2008-11-03T17:31:00.000-08:00

It's 3:43 am and you are up. Wide awake, staring at an alarm clock that is set to go off in 2 minutes and wondering, "What the hell is the matter with me?" Nevermind. There's no time for self-reflection.

Into the already packed car with coffee in hand, you hit the road and arrive at the parking lot before the sun is even thinking about rising. That's right, you just drove 180 miles and got to the water early enough to require a headlamp to find the trail. You smile to yourself and joke to your buddy about just how ridiculous that little fact is before your thought from earlier in the morning pops into your head again. "What the hell is the matter with me?" Nevermind. You'll have a long, dark ride home to discuss your mental deficiencies with exactly the wrong person; the guy who is just as sick as you are.

First car in the lot, last car to leave. Skip lunch because you were in such a rush to get to the water that you didn't have time to smear peanut butter and jelly on a piece of bread. It's the same routine, no matter where you go. Steelhead season is long, but the good part is really quite short. Who wants to waste time with trivial tasks such as eating and sleeping?

Stepping into the run, you notice a few headlamps bobbing up the bank. "Poor suckers." "They probably think they are going to get this run." A quick blink of your own headlamp and the approaching lights suddenly about face and head a different direction. You imagine the words being thrown around by the headlamp wearers downstream and chuckle to yourself. Pulling line off the reel, you scan the water for rolling fish and begin the familiar ritual of cast, mend, swing and step that you have done a thousand times before.

It's still somewhat dark when you have the first tug. "I hate short strikes." You think to yourself, but experience has taught you to leave the fly in the water and on "the dangle." Just as you begin to step downstream, you feel the fly fishing equivalent of being hit by a speeding train. In a flash, your line has come tight and two feet of chrome-covered muscle is trying it's hardest to get back to the lake. Line is ripping off, water is splashing and you are giggling like a 6 year old who ate a hundred chocolate bars. Suddenly it all makes sense. This is exactly what you came for; to have the living shit scared out of you by a fish before most people are even reaching for the snooze button.

For me, this is what it's all about. If you haven't gone out and gotten your arm yanked yet, now is the time. Great reports came in from everywhere this weekend, the leaves should be flushing out with the next rain and crowds will decrease as the temperature does. Go out and get some. We are...

A Great Time of Year

2008-10-19T14:25:00.000-07:00

It's hard not to be excited at this time of year. The leaves are peaked, hockey and football has gotten going again and most importantly, the coldwater fishing has picked up. The past few weeks have taken us to three different states in search of everything from stream trout on dries to chrome steelhead on two-handed rods. While fishing was better on some days was better than others, the sights and memories of being out made for great trips each time out...
Meg's first encounter with a snotty trout turned out to be a successful one after about 20 minutes of being refused...These weren't taken at the aquarium...

Steelheading has been tough with water conditions being inconsistent at best, but fish are there to be had if you are willing to put some work in...

Gotta love Canadian moonshine beer being sold in grocery stores...

While keeping up with my decreasing stockpile of flies and working long hours have kept me from updating this as much as I would like, I will try to keep some posts going as the season progresses. Hope you're all going out there and getting into what is surely my favorite time of year!

More like the "EverGRAY" State...

2008-09-28T18:24:00.000-07:00

What do you do when your boss says, "How do you feel about going to Seattle for some training?" First, you understand that this means you are going to Seattle, whether you want to or not. Second, you begin frantically reading, googling, browsing message boards and tying flies in preparation for a few days of "exploring" before said training begins.

After some searching and phone calls, I narrowed down my plans to include fishing the Skykomish and Stillaguamish Rivers for whatever salmonids were going to be available. From the sounds of things, steelhead and sea run cutthroats were going to be the primary targets, but odd chances existed for everything from Dolly Varden to Coho Salmon. In other words, things were looking up. I made reservations to sleep in the car at a campground on the upper Sky (better safe than sorry) and planned on just winging it from there.

As the trip neared, I learned that (due to a number of conditions) summer steelhead numbers were but a fraction of what they used to be. Years of logging headwater streams, gillnetting the oceans, poor management by fisheries managers and just general bad timing meant that steelheading was sure to be a test of endurance...but getting a tug from a wild, chrome fish was a possibility. On the upside, I learned that I would be flying into the peak of sea run cutthroat season if all else failed. How bad of a back up plan could catching a new species of fish be?

So, off I went. Leaving Pittsburgh in the afternoon and arriving in Seattle just as the sun was setting into the ocean. After getting a fishing license, standard rations and realizing the hard way that Seattle has some very confusing streets, I ended up on Highway 2 and in the headwaters of the Skykomish River sometime around midnight...or 3 am in Pittsburgh time.

Due to the darkness, I had no idea what the river looked like and anxiously woke from my luxurious accomodations....

...to find some of the most beautiful water and surroundings I have ever seen...
I quickly rigged the two-hander....
...and casted....and casted...and casted....

....and swung my fly....and swung my fly....and swung my fly...

...for two days. Through some of the best looking fly water I have ever seen. With nothing but a steelhead smolt and sore knees and feet to show for my efforts.

I was completely comfortable with the idea that the odds were stacked against me, but this was getting ridiculous. As I pounded the water, talked to myself and worked out every sort of spey cast I could remember, I stopped and looked around and thought to myself, "If there is a better place to get skunked than here, I'd like to see it."

The area was absolutely gorgeous. Everything from the huge boulders, to the old growth pine trees, to the cloud-shrouded mountains were everything I had imagined hey could be and I suddenly grew comfortable with the fact that there were certainly worse things I could be doing at the time....

Saturday quickly rolled around and I headed north to Arlington to fish the Stillaguamish River and it's North Fork. For the uninitiated, the North Fork of the "Stilly" is where summer steelheading basically got it's roots. Legendary steelheaders such as Roderick Haig-Brown, Trey Combs and Mike Kinney have all swung their flies on North Fork for it's famous summer runs that originated from Deer Creek; a tributary that ran high into the mountains and produced steelies that had a particular liking for rising to waking surface flies. Unfortunately, these summer runs have suffered from irresponsibility and are but a remnant of what they used to be. Having learned of this and having not seen a fish in 2 days, I decided that sea run cutts sounded pretty good. This would also be the first day I had actually seen the sun in 4 days, though it was just for a brief moment...

It wasn't long before I had my 5wt bent and a small cutt that was acting much more like a rainbow than the stereotypically lazy cutts I had run across in other places...

This would also be the first day I had actually seen the sun in 4 days, though it was just for a brief moment at sunset...

Over the next week, I made several trips to the river to fish for the scrappy cutts and was greeted with at least a few fish, including several on dries during a nice BWO hatch.

I also stopped at the mouth of Deer Creek to swing a fly through a few pools and see if a few steelies were around. Though no fish were interested, it was an incredible feeling fishing water that had some very deep ties to steelheading history...

As the week and training ended, I was faced with a decision. Fight rush hour traffic to Seattle or hang around for a while and have a nice easy drive back. This was a no-brainer and I headed up the North Fork to fish for a few hours. This was an unusually clear day and previously cloud-covered mountains were visible off in the distance as I wound my up 530 East out of Arlington. It was at his moment that I did something completely out of character and decided to bag the fishing in favor of some sight seeing. I grabbed the Gazetteer and found "Mountain Loop Road." Aptly named, this road would lead me on an 80 mile round trip up the North Fork, through the Mt. Baker National Forest, along the Sauk river and down the South Fork of the Stillaguamish. This turned out to be a great decision and I saw even more of an area that will stand out as one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to...

As my plane touched down in Pittsburgh, I already had confirmed plans to do a double float to close out the smallie season the next day and while I looked forward to the float, part of me was wishing I had a few more days to stand in the rain and cast for fish that probably weren't there...

Big Water = Big Smallmouth

2008-08-26T16:16:00.000-07:00

A quick photo update from the weekend....sorry to be short on words, but steelhead flies need to be tied...

Right Under Our Noses...

2008-08-11T17:58:00.000-07:00

I've tried to make it a point this summer to really take in what our area has to offer in terms of local fishing. We are extremely fortunate to live in a city that is basically built on water and anyone who likes to fish and doesn't take advantage of what is out there is a fool...plain and simple.

Want to drown nightcrawlers (GASP!) and catch catfish? How about catching a few smallies after dinner? Maybe head to a local pond for bluegills the size of your hand? It's all right here. The neighbors won't cry if you don't cut your grass tonight...go out and catch some fish. Before you know it, we'll be starting out the window at snow flying instead of actually being able to spend time on the water.

That being said; Meg and I headed to a nearby lake after work this week to enjoy the nice weather by cooking out and try to catch a few bluegills. Meg is preparing to take her boards, so she decided to study while I strung up the 2wt in search of bluegills...which proved to be less than cooperative.

After some heckling from Meg, I decided it was time to take drastic measures to tip the odds in my favor. I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about shredding up a hot dog bun and tossing it in the water, but that guilt quickly faded when three big bronze heads starting poking through the surface and slurping down the clumps of bread that were hovering in the water.

It was during this moment that my excitement got the best of me and I honestly forgot that I was holding a 2wt in my hand. Before I knew it, my bread fly (yes...I have a bread fly) was pinned in the mouth of a carp, my reel was making sounds reserved for a broken coffee grinder and my rod was bent to the cork...Say what you want and give me all of your criticism for chumming...but what did you do on Tuesday night?

I made quick stop by the river after work on Thursday to see if I could luck into a few fish before heading home. While the fishing wasn't great for me, the guys using bait were doing great. Schools of minnows were cruising up the banks and the smallies were slashing through them and tearing them apart. I managed to luck into a few fish by throwing into the schools of panicked baitfish, but this place is definitely not very fly rod friendly and I need to seek out some areas where my backcasts aren't met by trees, rocks and guys who don't read the consumption advisories regarding eating catfish from the Ohio river...Meg and I had planned two days of floating and camping for smallies on Saturday and Sunday. After taking part in the usual watching of the flow charts and weather forecasts, we were a bit apprehensive about the weekend, but things ended up shaping up just fine. Dad ended up meeting us in the morning on both days and we were all rewarded with some great fishing...

Initially, the fish were a bit reluctant to come to the surface due to the colder temps from the high water and big dam releases earlier in the week, but things got back to normal just in time for Meg to blast one of the biggest fish of the trip on a floating clouser. This fish did for all of us what no amount of caffeine can do at 7:30 in the morning by blowing up on the fly as if someone had thrown a red brick into the water....

To cap an already great week off, we ran into Meg's parents and their puppy as we rounded the corner before the take out. Everyone was enjoying the day, but I think Lola was having even more fun than we could ever imagine...
Things are looking pretty bright for the upcoming steelhead season. We've finally had a normal, somewhat wet summer. Stream levels are a bit higher than they should be and I'm sure the past week's nighttime temps in the mid 50's have more than a few steelhead junkies hoping that first push of chrome will come a little early this year. In the mean time, I'll be working on some new speys and getting the gear ready....

...it won't be long now...

Muddy Water and Mudding Carp...

2008-08-04T17:13:00.000-07:00

This weekend got off to a pretty strong start; with Friday night being spent gathering steelie flies and gear, chewing my fingernails off while looking over rising flow charts and knocking back beers to help me not worry so much about those graphs that were tilting in the wrong direction. Spotty, strong thunderstorms were making random messes of some watersheds, while others remained relatively untouched and I was having a tough time getting a feel for where we should head in the morning. There was no doubt that going to the wrong river could prove to be pretty detrimental to our success that day, but if we hit the river right, then it would pay off.

We've learned that things don't always go according to plan on fishing trips and often times you're best to just stick to what you know. What we knew as of Friday was that the Yough had leveled off somewhat and that the fishing could be good even if the river was a bit dirty. In the worst case scenario, we would float a few miles, drink a few beers and get a little sunburned. How bad could it be?

Fortunately, we had the beers and the sun was out, because the fishing was about as bad as it has been all year. Don't get me wrong, Josh and Dad managed a few and I got one little dinker, but this was far from the utter chaos that has been occurring on the river for the last few weeks...

Sunday brought family plans, that just so happened to be near a carp spot that is particularly productive. It made perfect sense to loop in a little bit of fishing before the obligations kicked in around 1. So, I left the house at 5:30am and was on the water by 6:15...waders and all.

Waders in August? You bet. This creek is far from pristine and exposing any bare skin to this kind of water could surely have detrimental effects on not only me, but any offspring I plan on having down the line. Why would anyone subject themselves to this sort of nasal punishment and bother sweating out a hot August morning to try for a few "garbage fish?" The answer is pretty simple; In comparison to other carp I have fished, the "garbage fish" that reside in this creek are just flat out stupid.

When carping, it is pretty reasonable to expect a fish that is visibly feeding to just flat out ignore your offerings. In most cases, by the time you have changed flies, the fish is spooked and won't eat anyways. Frustrating? You bet.

But these fish are different, often charging flies with jaws snapping and tails waving in the air. And that's just the half of it. Get a solid hook in one and watch your 6 weight bend to the cork and line melt off of your reel. You want scenery? Go brookie fishing. Tell me how many of those little bastards will make you wonder if 2x was enough....

...by noon, I had put enough fish on the bank, was sick of busting through thick brush and was beginning to wonder just how much exposure I should have to the toxic brew in the water. I decided to call it a day. Though it was rewarding, I need to figure out my carp problem in other waters. Catching these fish is fun, but I can't help but feel like I've gone to a whorehouse and got it the easy way (scary rashes included), rather than going about things in a more civilized way. More on a later date...

A Golden Opportunity...

2008-07-28T16:36:00.000-07:00

Jarret: "Did you see the gauge?"

Me: "Yep, not good."

Jarret: "Well, the Allegheny should fish. I don't think they got much rain up north."

Me: "OK, let's plan on that then."

...fast forward exactly 24 hours...

Jarret: "You see the gauge for the Allegheny?"

Me: "Yep, not good."

Jarret: "What do we do?"

Me: "It looks like the trout float will fish. There's a lot of big fish up there. We might do pretty well with the water being warmer."

Jarret: "OK, let's go."

Me: "We're floating on Friday and need a third, you in?"

Brian: "The baby is due in less than a week, but the doctor says it should be OK, count me in."

This was a brief synopsis of a series of short phone calls made over the course of a week that provided nothing short of typical, unpredictable summertime weather. To add to the unpredictability, there was a good chance that a baby might try to make it's entrance into the world while we were mid-float...if we could find water to fish.

Gauges were carefully watched, doctors were consulted and the call was made to try to squeeze in a last minute float before the water ran out on the upper river and we couldn't get the boat down without making the chines look like a jigsaw puzzle.

Things got off to a good start with J raising two fish right off the bat, but we were met with lots of muddy water about a mile from the launch and we began to question our logic. Fortunately, we aren't as dumb as we were feeling upon seeing the muddy water and the muddy, dropping water was enough to counteract the high, bright sun and keep the big fish on the bite.

Over the course of the float we dodged many objects including rocks, kayaks, rafts, canoes and even our own weighted streamers. Though it wasn't pretty, throwing the big, heavy stuff provided some very exciting takes and fights from fish that would rival anything you would find out west...

It should be clarified that when I say weighted streamers, I don't mean conehead wooly buggers. I'm talking articulated wet wash cloths that are weighted with 30 wraps of .20 lead wire and large dumbbell eyes. These are serious flies aimed at catching fish that eat squirrels for snacks. In short, you just don't want to get hit in the head with one...

After returning home late, trout boxes were swapped out for smallie flies in preparation for a much anticipated Saturday trip with Matt - who was home for a week before football camp would start.

The river was a bit off color, but provided some great fishing on top waters and streamers alike.

Rowing the boat with an offensive lineman sitting in the front and my Dad in the back was definitely a bit different than what I was used to, but we managed pretty well and were into fish pretty much all day. I even picked up my first small musky on a fly...

Unfortunately, Matt is done fishing for a while, but plans have already been made to do some steelheading once the football season ends and a trip to VA for some striper fishing may be in the works as well...

I wish I could predict what this weekend will bring, but after the last few weeks, I'm not even going to try...

Smallmouth, Topwaters and T-Storms...

2008-07-22T14:18:00.000-07:00

Jarret and I got an early start to the weekend on Thursday night by taking an after work smallie trip. To be quite honest, I can't think of a better way to unwind from a day of work than wet wading in sandals and shorts and having smallies blast topwaters!
Though Thursday was a blast, it was a merely a quick fix. The real excitement would happen on Saturday, when Josh, Kurt and I were planning a 14 mile float on the Yough. This would be the longest float we have ever done and we were all very excited to say the least.We got off to an early start and had the boat in the water by 7. By 7:02 there were fish cartwheeling though the air and pulling our lines tight. Not a bad start for sure...

We had planned on trying to keep track of just how many fish were being caught, but it just became too much of a chore. All I can say is that this river has a very healthy population of smallmouths that are more than eager to eat flies...including some real tanks. The highlight of the day came with the biggest smallmouth I've ever come across blasting a Gurgler and pulling line like a steelhead.
I returned home around 9:30 in time to shower and clean the boat up for yet another float on Sunday.

Sunday came and I hit the river with Meg and her Dad. Thankfully, this would be a bit shorter float. My hands looked and felt like ground meat from rowing a few too many miles and getting spined and jabbed with hooks while unhooking fish on Saturday. What a terrible problem to have huh?

Anyway, the day proved to be a memorable one with Meg and Tom getting a bit more comfortable on the oars, catching a good number of fish on gurglers (even doubling up at one point) and laughing with me as we got completely soaked in a thunderstorm that popped up about 1 mile from our takeout.

This wasn't your average thunderstorm. This was one of those Forrest Gump "it even rained upside down" kind of storms that blew in so fast that we would have barely had the chance to get our rain jackets on...if we had them. Needless to say, everyone took it in stride and had a good laugh about just how much water could fall in such a short time.

Smallmouth season is definitely going well and I'm extremely excited about searching for some more big fish, but talk of two-handed rods and big, bright chrome fish is becoming more common in my circle of friends. It won't be long, I just hope we can all hold out long enough for the fish to arrive before we all lose it...

Meghan's Turn...

2008-07-16T15:25:00.000-07:00

The weekend began with Meg and I taking an impromptu run to Ohiopyle for a day of laying next to the river, bruising our butts on natural waterslides and raising enough fish on Stimulators to make us forget about the snakes that seemed to be around every corner.

Saturday is a day that will live forever in infamy as the day that my sometimes huge male ego was crushed to pieces by none other than my own girlfriend. Dad, Julia, Meghan and I spent the day floating the Yough looking for smallies and whatever else felt like eating what we were throwing at them. "Whatever else" ended up being, smallies, spotted bass, rock bass, sauger, saugeye and a walleye that would count as a trophy anywhere in the country. Throw in shots at carp, sheephead and the odd chance at a toothy critter and you have a recipe for a very interesting day (and that was just the fishing). Compound fishing with the antics of Julia and Meghan - who have earned themselves a reputation a reputation as "Matches & Gasoline" (I'm not sure which is which) - and the day is that much more entertaining.

To fill in the blanks; We had floated over 3/4 of the way throwing 8 weights rigged with standard smallie foods such as Gurglers, Lazy Strippers and both floating and sinking Clouser Minnows. For the uninitiated, this is about as close to rapid fire fishing as you can get. Hit the banks, strip the fly back and hit it again...and again...and again. Tired of fishing? Good. You can row until you are ready to fish again.

We may take it a bit easier on the girls, but I assure you that by the time we had reached the afrorementioned 3/4 point, there was a good bit of talk going around about sore casting arms and wrists. It is for this exact reason that Dad sometimes (very quietly) stuffs a spinning rod under the rowers seat.

I swear it wasn't two minutes after Meg tied on a 1/4 oz white spinnerbait when her drag started screaming and the biggest smallie of the day came into the boat.

Everyone was excited (except for Julia who had some choice words for Meg) and before that could even wear off, Meg's rod was bent in half again. This time, the fish was fighting hard, but a bit differently. It stayed deep and took a couple short runs before I caught a glimpse of it and screamed "Musky!" It turns out that my 4 years pursuing a fisheries biology degree were a complete waste of time, because I can't tell the difference between a musky and the biggest walleye any of us have seen in quite some time. The fish taped out at 24", which coincidentally was just small enough to fit right in our cooler and into a frying pan (in fillet form) shortly after. Yes; we are murderers, but if all fish tasted like walleye there would be a fillet knife shortage and no fish left to catch.

We returned home shortly after dark and I had made plans ot meet Dad back at the river in the morning. Upon looking at the weather forecast - which was calling for an 80% chance of severe T-Storms - we decided to bag the trip to avoid the risk of becoming barbeque.

Imagine my suprise when I woke up and saw just one little green blob on the radar. I swear if I ever see a weatherman on the street...

There was no time to be angry! It was 8am on a Sunday, and a cloudy Sunday nonetheless. I grabbed my gear and headed to the river to a creek mouth where I spotted and promptly proceeded to spook 3 of the biggest carp I have seen in quite some time. These weren't big, they were BIG. Big enough to have me wondering if 200 yds of backing was going to be enough. Needless to say, I never got to find out the answer to that question for multiple reasons...

Reason #1) Carp don't respond well to a weighted fly landing on their head in 8" of water.

Reason #2) It's hard to change flies when your hands are shaking

Reason #3) Carp are smarter than I am

The first two reasons are undeniable. Anyone who doesn't spend a considerable amount of time with me may question the third. But I swear, these fish are something else. To watch 15 lbs of fish swim up to your fly... smell it...and turn away to continue feeding and never look at that fly again is something that anyone who is breathing should try at least once. I'll leave it at that.

On the plus side, I stumbled onto another opportunity for a mixed bag day when I wandered up the creek and found chances to catch Carp, Sheephead, Smallies, Largemouth, Smallmouth Buffalo (I told you I had a fisheries degree) and even a Channel Catfish. I wish I could say I salvaged my ego by catching everything I saw, but only the bass were cooperating by trying to knock the claws off of my crayfish!

Although the day was somewhat salvaged, I still hate the weatherman, I need to fool a carp again and I will be out fishing again this weekend. The forecast is calling for 90 degrees with a small chance of a shower...I may pack my snowsuit just in case.

A Long Weekend...

2008-07-07T15:33:00.000-07:00

There are some things that tend to get neglected when you spend a lot of time fishing. For a number of reasons including early rises, long weekends, late returns from trips and a borderline compulsive habit for keeping gear organized, my social life tends to take a bit of a hit during fishing season. Add in the fact that all of our different fishing "seasons" tend to run together here in western PA and the circle of friends of a person who spends a lot of time on the water tends to get rather small. Normally, this doesn't bother me much because I'm fortunate enough to have a very understanding girlfriend and friends who are just as passionate about fishing or can tolerate my lunacy enough to not tell me how crazy this has all gotten. This still doesn't mean that it isn't nice to get out and act like a normal person once in a while.

It was for this reason that Meg and I were pretty excited to head to Jarret's cabin for a weekend of drinking, eating, yelling, blowing up random objects and otherwise acting like a member of the normal population on the 4th of July. There was one small hiccup; Jarret's cabin is about 2 miles from some very good smallie water on the upper Allegheny. After some talking with Jarret, we both decided it would be best to take the boat and gear, but save the serious stuff for a later date.

We arrived at J's on Thursday night to find the Allegheny high and dirty, but slowly dropping. It was pretty clear that the river wasn't going to fish very well anyways, which made it easier to handle our previous decision.

We got to bed after the standard campfire antics on Thursday night and decided to take a short float on Friday so that we could be back in time to meet up with more people that were driving up. Meg, Jarret and I did a bit of fishing, and decided it best to just rest for the long night we had ahead of us...

...Saturday morning brought headaches to some members of the group and also some very entertaining stories of who blew what up with the fireworks that were brought out way too late in the evening for anything good to happen. Fortunately, everyone still had all of their limbs and were feeling good enough to go for long float in the afternoon. The plan was that we would haul the cooler full of beer in our boat, while everyone else relied on rafts to get down the river. It was a good compromise that allowed some fishing time, but ended up causing one of the most chaotic fishing moments I can ever remember.

Meg was rowing the boat and I was fishing as we led the group down the river when a good sized pike blasted my clouser from behind a big deadfall on the bank. "Pike!" I yelled as Meg backrowed and dropped the anchor in order to help me land the fish. All at once, I realized I had a knot in my line and the entire armada of rafts crashed into our boat and began to scatter right into the area where the fish was running. I frantically tried to work the knot out while Meg and Jarret pushed rafts away from the boat and worked to get the boat positioned again. After what seemed like an eternity, we all accomplished what we were working at and Jarret slid the biggest pike I have ever caught into the net so we could get a few pictures...

...it must have been dumb luck, because we floated the rest of the stretch and did not even bump another fish.

After taking out, Meg and I headed home so that I could squeeze a last minute float in on the Yough with Dad and Dan, whom most of us affectionately know as Captain.

The three of us met in Layton around 6:00 to ensure we had enough time for a 13 mile float. This turned out to be well worth the effort, because the fishing turned out to be very different than what we had experienced up north. Recent rains had the water a bit off color and the fish hugging the banks. Many casts were greeted with a wake, splash and a hard fight from a smallie. Although no huge fish were landed, consistent topwater action, great conversation and the standard hilarity that goes along with fishing with Captain made the day one to remember...

So with smallie season going in earnest and a desire to hit the Allegheny when it's at a good level, I guess my social life may have to wait a bit before we try for another resurrection. For now, I have flies that need tied, leaders to build and waders to patch. After all, steelhead season is just around the corner...

Urban Spey Casting and Freshwater Redfish...

2008-06-26T15:59:00.000-07:00

It started with a phone call...

"Two Handers, Catfish, the Ohio River..." was pretty much the jist of the message I left on Jarret's voicemail on Monday.

We had both been itching to blow the cobwebs out of our spey casts and the tree-lined, big water of the Ohio provided a perfect place to do so. The prospect of hooking a big cat on the two hander added even more excitement to the mix.

The plan was to meet on the river sometime after work and throw our heaviest tips and that is exactly what we did. Despite a valiant effort, even Type-8 tips and weighted flies weren't enough to scratch the bottom of the swollen river, (brace for the lame cliche') but at least we were making somewhat serviceable casts...

While we sometimes think that we are dedicated, hard-core fishermen that will stick it out for just that one fish, it was quickly becoming apparent that the odds were stacked against us. We decided it was time for a change of location. As we walked back to the car, I mentioned that I thought we should take a quick look at one more spot that usually holds fish. As we peered over the railing, we could see the backs of several large fish hovering in a soft spot just below the dam...

We quickly hopped our way down the rocks and I lobbed a clouser into the soft spot. It was greeted by none other than a close cousin to the redfish....

...the freshwater drum...sheephead...or shithead as walleye fishermen affectionately know them. Call them what you will, but these guys honestly have a bad rap as a trash fish. Not only do they pull like a freight train, but they are plentiful in our rivers and grab flies like nobodies business.

Two handers were swapped out for an 8 wt and we were quickly taking turns catching some very nice fish that were making us glad that the outfit we chose had a fighting butt and strong drag...

Most fish were in the 1-3 lb range, but a few went well over that and you knew right away when a bigger fish had decided to grab your fly. I found myself a few turns from my backing chasing a fish down the bank on more than one occasion and Jarret and I were rewarded for our efforts with a sore arm and a few big sloppy drum...

...so say what you will, but I know where I am going when gas is $4.50 a gallon and I'm looking for a fish that pulls...and I definitely haven't forgotten about those catfish!

What a week...

2008-06-22T19:28:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lull in writing, but I was fortunate enough to get out and fish 4 out of 7 days this week and decided to change hosts for my blog, so needless to say the blog didn't get updated as much as it should have.

On to more pressing issues...the past week has provided a real mixed bag of opportunities; from floating for trout and smallies, to drowning worms on the river, to hiking into a Class A brown trout stream. The only thing that stayed consistent was the quality of fishing and the great company I got to share it with...

Sunday was spent floating the Upper Yough for trout and while we turned some monsters on big streamers, the biggest fish that ended up coming to the boat was a smallie that Bryan nailed in the first mile of the float. Shortly after he proceeded to break off a nice northern and had a charge from a brown that easily went over 25"!

Meg and I spent Wednesday night catching catfish and drum on the Ohio. There was rarely a dull moment and despite Meg's best efforts to study, I think she spent just as much time reeling in fish as she did reading...

I floated the Bottom Yough on Saturday with Dad and Tom and we finally had the weather and flows to get the smallies active. This was what we had all been waiting for; Sandals and shorts, cold beers, great weather and smallies blasting clousers and topwaters. What more could we ask for? How about a kick ass ropeswing and a my biggest smallie from the Yough to date? That'll do...

Sunday began with Meg saying, "I could go for blueberry pancakes." Seeing that we had no blueberries in the house and I make crappy pancakes, we decided to head to a diner that just so happens to be about 10 minutes for a great hike-in wild brown trout stream. After stuffing our faces with everything BUT blueberry pancakes (I'm not sure how that happened), we burned off our breakfast by hiking 2 miles to the mouth of the stream and sharing a rod while fishing our way back up. Low, slow water made things tough, but we managed one gorgeous fish from a plunge pool that always produces...

All my previous blog entries...

2008-06-22T19:25:00.000-07:00

...can be found at http://www.flyfishblogger.com/InTheDrift