Almost, Almost, Almost

I shouldn’t have gone fishing today. When I woke up, the wind was flying. Trees were tipping. Casting would be impossible. Besides, I had been fishing the past 9 days. Wasn’t it time for a break? I guess part of me told me there was a need to go. What would I say? What would I post? A nice story on fly tying, from the comfort of my home. But no, I had to go fishing. So it was settled, and I headed up Boulder Canyon. On arrival to my fishing hole, I was greeted by a man in a hard-hat. “Can’t fish here,” he said. “Blowing up a log jam in a few hours.” Great, another sign I shouldn’t be out here. But I was already here, so it had to be done. I made my way to another nice area a few minutes downstream, only to find that even the water levels in the canyon are high. How was I gonna fish now? But I went for it anyway. For the first twenty minutes, I thought I was going insane. I must have looked it, too. Talking to myself, yelling at bushes I would hook, laughing hysterically as I almost broke my leg on a rock. After enough of that, I got my groove back. Casts looked better, there was less talking to myself, and I was starting to see strikes. I was however, still working skunked. No fish. Zero. I laid a cast down into a nice little pool, took the drift, saw the strike, and set. Fish on, but just as quick, fish off. Crap! I moved on, and kept working for my fish. Finally, as my fly drifted into a good looking spot, my indicator went under. I had the fish on for a few seconds before he popped off. Double crap! I moved a few holes up, and found one more solid spot. I put my cast in, and waited. Something inhaled my dry. I set, fought the small fish for a few seconds, and brought him in. Skunked? No. Almost Skunked? Yes. After that fish, I decided to call it a day and come home to tie flies. I worked hard, learned a few things, and managed to find a fish. Oh, and I also got mild toe frostbite, severely cut up my legs on a sharp bush, and lost half a dozen flies. A great (?) day on the water.

Pella Monsters

First off, thanks for understanding when I couldn't post last night. There was a family emergency that had to be dealt with. But I did manage to dig up a good fish tale this morning, as the Pella bass were pretty compliant! I got to the lakes around eight this morning, ready to put in. I came up on a school of large catfish getting ready to spawn, which was very cool. After the idea of noodling (yes, noodling Howard), came and went, I hopped into my boat, I kicked around for about twenty minutes, but all the fish were interested in was each other. Staging for the spawn, trying to find mates, and so on. I decided to change tactics, getting out of my boat and jumping down to the last lake. I was able to find some big fish, but they all either swam away or just sat with their mate. I fished for a while without finding any hungry fish, and was about to call it a day. As I was walking toward the car, something caught my eye. One fish, two fish, three fish, four fish. All huddled together, which means they weren't staging yet! I quickly tossed in my Slump Buster and caught the first fish. Here he is:

I came back and quickly caught the other two males, who were both about the same size as the first. Now it was time to catch the larger female. I put the cast in, gave it some action, and it was fish on. I battled for about ten minutes, and brought the big girl in. After that, I decided to call it a day. Here is the big ending female:

Nope

Family emergency, no post tonight. Should be up tomorrow by mid-day. Thanks for your understanding. Here is a big brown in the mean time:

Monster Fish, Great Story (Part One)

Have you ever caught a fish so big you just want to break down and cry? Ever caught twenty of 'em? Don't get me wrong, these are stocker fish. Sure, say it's not fishing. I think that watching the 5 and 1/2 pounder above blasting 100 feet to the other side of the river while your reel screams is fishing. When that fish isn't the biggest fish of the day.... well, shit's going down. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let's start as I'm hopping into the water. We had just walked up to a nice pool, and I was taking my flies off the hold. My rig for the day? A San Juan Worm to a Prince Nymph, perfect for the high and off color water. So I put my first few casts in. On about the fourth cast my indicator dipped. Set, Whomp! Fish on! After a battle, the first fish, a 21 incher, was brought to the net. Here he is:

We kept fishing and caught a couple more fish in that same size area, then moved down to the next pool. After pounding the water about fifty times, the indicator finally slowed, then stopped. Set! After a smaller battle, this fish was brought to the net. But wait! It was a wild Brown! Sweet!

We moved through a couple more holes and caught a few more fish, all around 20 inches. We moved up to a solid hole, and started casting. My indicator went under once again, so I set. The huge fish flew straight for a debris pile, breaking us off in half a second. I thought for sure that that was our big fish for the day. We went through another hole and caught one good three pound bow, then moved on. After another strike and hookup, I brought this very cool Cutbow to the net:

We kept fishing, and caught even more big fish. We then decided to make a move downstream, to a hole where big fish had been hanging out lately. I hooked up on and lost one good fish, and kept casting. Right as I was about to move down to the next hole, the indicator. Stopped. I think in my head it will always be played in slow motion. The set. The rod bend. The feeling of hooking the bottom. The feeling of the bottom starting to swim. Wait, the bottom? No, a GIGANTIC fish! My brain went into hyperdrive, and i had to remember every trick I knew. In the mean time, the beast was fighting around in the depths, trying to figure out what was going on. I fought the fish for a good few minutes before I finally saw him. Oh dang! Right as I saw the fish and went for the net, he made an effort to break free. He went deep again, tis time charging for the waterfall at the end of the pool. Knowing this fish could snap even my 2x, I had to let him run. As he jumped down, it took all my strength to not bow the rod toward him and snap the rod. I sprinted down the bank after him, reeling as hard as I could. The fish was still there! After a few more short runs, the fish tired out and I was able to bring him into my friends net. When I was handed the net, I almost dropped it. The huge fish, weighing in at 7 and 1/2 to 8 pounds, was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen. Isn't this ridiculous? I'll post the rest of the story tonight, but here's the big beast:

My Next Post

I have a very busy day (and night) tonight and tomorrow, but the story that will follow could be amazing. My next post will either be up tomorrow night or Sunday morning, so please check back. Thanks!

Perfect Creations

Have you ever had a fly that you tied just right? It's really a cool feeling. Everything goes right, and the fly comes out just the way you wanted it to. You think, "Wow! I could be one of those 16 year old girls who tie flies in China!" We've all been there. Because that's the kind of people we (usually) are. We like to be perfectionists, even though the fish don't care. We just want to have something that we did that looks amazing. We won't be happy until they're perfect, but we can tell when they are. We can understand when there is no problems with the whole thing, and that is a cool feeling. It's not just with fly tying, too. Have you ever thrown the perfect cast? The line rolls over perfectly, and the fly lands picture perfectly? That's the same feeling. I had a cool day yesterday, because this happened to me twice. I was working at the fly-shop, and it was a slow part of the day. So me and my friend Rem, who is the painter of the amazing mural we now have, went down to the creek. This feeling happened the first time when I threw my fifth cast. The line swung around beautifully, and the fly hit perfectly. Strip, strip, strip, strip, Bam! I caught the fish, but it was even more cool to know everything went perfectly. So that was that. The second time something like this happened was while I was fly-tying that night. I was trying to tie a Slump-Buster, which is a very good streamer on Boulder Creek. I have bee teaching myself this pattern, and it has been a few days now. I tied this fly, and then took another look. Wow, this fly was good. I looked it over while looking over at the real version, and they looked the same. Sweet! Here is the fly I found on the internet, and mine.

Internet Fly

Justin's Fly

Product Review- People These Days...

Wow, hands down the stupidest idea of all time. What the hell. Who would use these. Idiots. Wow, that's all I can say. Ever heard of Magic Heads? Didn't think so. If you haven't look them up. If you're like me, you saw them and started laughing. You know those things dogs have to wear? Like these:

Well, this is the fly version of those things. They attach to the front of your fly, and are supposed to make your fly wiggle. How do people come up with these things? But if you're even more like me, curiosity took over. Do they maybe work? Could it be? So I had to buy a pack. Just to see if they work. I tied a quick Wooly Bugger, put one on, and went down to the Creek. This does NOT work. All these flies do is jump up and down, splashing a trail of water close behind. The biggest fish I saw the whole day ran in terror from my crazy pattern. Changed flies, and the fish were all over it. But I can't blame them, would anything eat this?

Completely ridiculous. In other news, Jay has finally gone completely insane. Whatever they use to preserve the hackle, Jay has had one sniff too many. Here is Jay, rolling around in some of that hackle preserve.

Learning To Teach, And Some Big Fish

I spent my Spring Break, which now seems like forever ago (only 2 months), in Fort Myers, Florida. It's a beautiful place if you've never been, but I'm not sure I'd recommend bringing the family. Apart from fishing, I would never actually leave the hotel. This town is quite possibly the most boring town in the country if you're not a crazy fisher-person. There isn't really anything to other than go to the beaches, which aren't like Miami. Their just cute little beaches with a few families out to have a good day. It's not like you picture Florida, like the old TV shows that open with Miami Beach, full of pretty people, and tons of 'em. No, just a nice place where people relax. But once you've had your fill of that, there's really nothing else you can do. Well, except the obvious... Fish! I was lucky enough to stay at a hotel that owns a large fishing dock, full of snapper and Sheepshead. If you don't no what a Sheepshead is, there's one at the top of the post. That's about an average sized one, and they put up great fights. Later, you'll see a much larger one. But we gotta start from the beginning. I was fishing the first day, about ten minutes after we got to the hotel. A couple of kids had walked down, and asked me what I was doing. I showed them some fish, and started to explain how to fish. The asked me when I would be out next, which was (obviously) the next morning. And I was out there, around 7:00 am, to find them waiting for me. I told them where they could rent some rods the night before, and they had taken the chance. They both had gear, but no bait. Flies wouldn't work for them, so I ran down to the local bait-shop and bought some shrimp. I helped them rig up their rods, and showed them some more tips on how to catch fish. They were very patient, just listening to my incessant babbling for half an hour. Then I came up on the main dock and helped them drop their lines in. They were both having a good time, and I was having a really good time teaching some kids to love the sport. Ten minutes later, as I was casting, the little girl calls to me. "Justin, I think I have one!" She was fishing quite close to a large underwater rock (I've fished here a lot), and her rod was bending really far, so I figured it must be a snag. I take the rod from her to try and pull it off, only to have a fish almost rip the rod out of my hands. WOW! You've got a huge one! So I held the rod for her as her she listened to me tell when to reel and when to let line out. After and epic battle of keeping the fish away from snags, we got him  up. It was hands down the biggest Sheepshead I'd ever seen. I gave the girl a high five, and brought the dad over to snap some photos. Remember that sheepshead from earlier? Check this one out:

We took photos and let the fish go. I caught plenty more fish that week, including 7 sea trout and 31 redfish. That's a story for a different day though. For now, here is a picture of the other student and his first catch, a spanish mackerel.

Boulder Creek High Water 101

Another fishing trip? Again? A week ago, you said Boulder Creek was too high to fish! Now, you're fishing it every day. What happened? Stoneflies and streamers happened. Stoneflies? Ya, stoneflies. Czech Nymphs fished under a big stonefly. Wrecking fish right around trees and bushes. My friend  caught the fish right at the top of the page on a size 8 double bead stonefly. The only trick between catching these fish and missing all your strikes is an indicator. If you fish an indicator, most of the time you will miss your strikes. You don't have enough feel to tell the difference between a weird drift and a bite. Without, you can feel everything well enough to find fish. But if you're not into Czeching, the other best tactic for catching the fish is streamers. Anything bright enough for them to see, and the right size for them to get into their mouths. The fish right below here was caught on a Goldi Lox Bugger, in size 8.

 The trick to streamers here kind of depends on each cast. Fist few casts, strip as fast as you can. Once you get the fish's attention, slow down your strips so they can start to follow and attack it. Once the strips slow down enough, and the fish is still excited, he will grab the fly full force, and will usually hook itself. If you set the hook, you will usually be pulling straight upstream, which will pull the fly out of the fish's mouth. Instead, continue stripping in line. If the fish hits and you strip, the fish will close it's mouth to keep it's "meal" in it's mouth. When you strip line in, and the mouth is closed, the fly will pull right into the fish's mouth. Magic, you've got yourself a fish. Now be careful as you fight the fish, as even a small one can break you off in the rapids. The current is rushing, even when you can't see it. Although the water in the picture below looks relatively calm, I couldn't make it all the way across.

The under-current is flying to a point where a wading staff might even be a good idea for some people. The fishing is still good though, so get out there! And remind yourself, only a couple more months before the dry fly bite is on again!

Whoa There!

That's what I thought to myself as I got up a small hill to look at Boulder Creek. She is running very fast, and even a little off color. The fishing was going to be tough, and the wading impossible. It's up around almost 200 cfs through town, which is really high for the little creek. So as it seemed to me, we had three options. Czech Nymphing, Streamers, or head home. Well, heading home wasn't on the menu, we were here to catch fish and that's what we were going to do. Czech Nymphing requires a very sensitive touch, and with all the debris from trees floating around... well there was no need for that. That left streamers. Big, shiny, bright streamers. Like what? Like the Coffee Sparkle Minnow. If you don't know what that is, here is a picture:

Nice and big, with so much shine it could blind a horse. Wait, that's not the saying. Oh well. So the Caffeine named fly was sent into the water with a splash. After a few hard strips to get the fly wet and sinking, because the tail likes to float for the first cast, we were all set to go. The first deep hole I tried fishing proved fish-less, probably because there were dogs swimming right upstream. The hole should have been perfect for streamers, deep and slow. Here is a picture so you.... well, get the picture.

So although it should have been good, no fish were found. I moved up to the next pool, slightly shallower and clear enough that you could spot fish with polarized sunnys. So I put in a few cast before I got my first taker. The thing about fishing Boulder Creek with streamers is that the fish don't have big enough mouths to hold the fly. Because of this, you catch less fish than you normally would, but you have a better chance at catching a big fish. I got a lot of strikes, but the fish would only nip at the tail, not grab the whole fly. It's also hard to set the hook mid-strip, which I'm sure doesn't help. So after the fish realized lunch was an impostor, they stopped feeding. To the next hole then. This is my personal favorite stretch for streamers, slow, medium depth, and long enough to get a great drift. So I put my first cast in. There was a follower, but he decided not to commit. I put the next cast under the large tree in some shade. I couldn't see the fly, but the hole still looked good enough to try. The cast went in. Strip, strip, strip, strip, strip, Bam! Fish on! I fought the fish for quite a while (it was light tippet and the current was strong). I finally put the fish in my net, and like I said earlier, streamers give you a chance at finding bigger fish. Well, this was no exception. This 16 inch brown was what I found in my net in the hole pictured below it:

For only fishing those three pools, it was a great day out there. Go catch some fish, and maybe even land a lunker! In other news, my custom flies and creations will be for sale on the blog soon. Would anyone be interested in that? I'll talk about it in more detail later.