Sunday, May 24, 2015

Quick outing

I owe a big report on the trip with Cam, Wendy, Dan, Trevor and Travis...but I just haven't had time to write it. Too many things happening at work and home, will get something together soon.

Had to put up a few photos of today's outing though. Elia and I wet waded some river, and it was stupid fun. She fell in several times, the wind was up and water cold but Elia is a trooper. She just loves being out there, and isn't bothered but crap like cold water. She laughs, nets fish, fights fish, digs in the mud and is just a phenomenal companion.

She was soaked all day, and not one word of complaint. Instead, I got to hear her talk about all sorts of stuff, and come up with creative names like "fishfish" and "Mr. Fishy" as we landed carp after carp. No twenties today, one nice 18 lber but I laughed my ass off all day long.

We even got close enough for her to see a couple of eats, which she thought was really awesome. Fantastic day on the water with my little girl.



Sunday, May 17, 2015


Just off the river after four days. The fishing wasn't epic, but the company sure was! Cameron from The Riberglass Manifesto, Dan from Carp Pro, Wendy Berrell from Fishing and Yhinking in Minnesote and Trevor from FlyCarpin all descended on the river. Travis from Trashfishing and Funhogging joined as well. It was an all star crew, even with a hack like me along to bring down the overall skill level. More to come, but I wanted to post a quick thanks to all the boys and their families...what a great time!



Friday, May 08, 2015

The white whale

For over ten years I have been hunting for a 20+ lb mirror on the big C. I have seen exactly two caught, a 21 and a 23. I have hooked one myself, and lost it at my feet in one of the more heartbreaking moments I can recall while fishing the big C. Today, I found her...24 lbs to be exact. She was tailing on the edge of a gravel bar, perpendicular to me. Unfortunately there was a small fish between me and the mirror, and that little fish made a cast impossible. She was slightly in front of the tailing mirror, so any cast would have loved the small fish. I took a look around and realized my only angle was from the deep water. I waded out chest deep, and closed the distance to the mirror. Now I was directly behind her...not an ideal shot, but one I knew I could make. Remarkably...I didn't screw it up. The flies landed, I did a little drag and flip and the big mirror ate the hybrid like she had been waiting ten years for that fly. Remarkable moment, one I doubt I ever forget.

The rest of the day is a haze of takes...some big fish (4 over 20 on the day) and one stunning fully scaled mirror, but that one moment is all I can really think about right now. I have been looking for that fish for a long long time...the only thing better than the moment she ate was watching her swim away.



Sunday, May 03, 2015

So easy an 8 year old can do it


Sort of. JJ is a trooper, but putting a fly within 4 inches of a carp he can't really see is well beyond his current skills. Still, he makes a great net guy, and if I hook em, he is willing to wrangle them into submission for me.

We went big fish hunting today. This means you ignore sure bets, and work the edges, the in between, the forgotten water. You leave the flats and stumble through the cobble and climb amongst the rip rap. The climbing might just be JJ's favorite part. It worked. We stuck fish, and JJ had three fish on the line that I am positive were 20 plus, but a 20 plus in a boulder field is a bit much for any intrepid 8 year old and we lost all three. When I hooked the next beast, JJ stuck with the net and I steered the fish clear of obstructions and JJ somehow fit the 25 lb head into the net.

We hooked one more big one, 22 lbs, and this time we had some open water. JJ battled hard for several minutes, but succumbed to a smashed knuckle when the wily carp made for the far shore and the knob on the reel turned to a blur. He handed me the rod and went for the net was a total team effort.

I remember days with my dad from when I was a kid. Good days...days like today with my own son. Here is to many more.

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Saturday May 2

Come say hello at Orvis in Bridgeport Village this Saturday, May 2nd at 11 am. I will be there talking carp..hope to see you there!

Sunday, April 26, 2015

The hot streak continues

Wow. I have had some great carp fishing the past few years, sometimes I write about it, sometimes I don't. I have my share of bad days too, sometimes I write about those, sometimes I don't. My last two outings have been nothing short of spectacular. Insane fishing. Not only have I been able to find the fish, but they have been active...tailing aggressively, working the shallows and pockets and making obvious moves to the fly. It is this last part that is remarkable on my water. They don't often make it easy, but today the carp were very cooperative.

Today was similar to last week...big numbers and plenty of size. I landed 4 fish over 20 lbs, the largest being a 22 lb slab that ate a hybrid in skinny, skinny water. I will be seeing that take in my head for weeks. I found carp in mud, sand, cobble, just didn't seem to matter. The fish were in, and they were hungry.

The best still isn't May. This is the just Preseason!


Monday, April 20, 2015

Sometimes it comes together

When things are right on the big C, things are REALLY right.

The sun came out, the fish came out, and shit got crazy in a hurry.  Yesterday, I caught more carp than I have ever caught in a single day on the Big C...and that isn't a small number.  Insane fishing.

Some days you just end up smiling.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Death March

Just found something I wrote last spring...pretty sure I never posted this, but if I did...well, the 5 people that read this blog can skip it.




I call it the Death March for a lot of reasons. One is as simple as it is a long fucking way out and back! Mixed in there are some other, less obvious reasons. First, part of the walk is that nasty, softball sized know, the kind that makes you roll your ankles, slip, stumble, and general force yourself to face the fact that you are not as agile as you once were. occasionally have to slog long distances through waist deep water, and it is dead water too. You don't see carp there so you push through it hard, moving fast and burning your thighs. The gravel bar on the other end of the dead water always makes it worth the effort though. Lastly, the return trip when you are not really fishing can be a monster. The distance you travel when on the hunt is always deceptive, and it seems a lot farther when walking back, facing the aforementioned softballs, deep water pushing, and even some side hill and rip rap leaping.

All in all, the Death March is not for the faint of heart.

It can be especially nasty in August, when the temps might hit 105 and the sun bakes down, burning through your buff. The wind never blows in August, and the carp are monstrously difficult in a dead calm. One plop too close, one drag and drop with too much wake and they bolt off of the gravel bars and pockets like rockets...20 lb rockets. On multiple occasions I have landed four carp over 20 lbs on the Death March, perhaps why I keep punishing my body and my skills with this water. The big fish don't hang out where you can easily reach them, so you need to put in the work. You need to wear out your boots, and return home with raccoon eyes, dehydrated, tired, but often exhilarated.

Last year I slogged along the Death March, solo. Hunting for big fish, passing up shots at "ordinary" 9-10 lb carp. I was after the 20s...the big gravel bar fish that you only find when your time and path happens to intersect that of a big carp, sliding into the shallows to feed. These big girls don't hang out up there...they come in with a purpose, complete their need, and then ghost off into the deep, safe water. You need to walk to find em...and hope. But if you wander around long enough, it will come together.

I spotted the tail first. Bigger than my hand and slapping gently at the water from side to side, pushing its face between the cobble and rocks, digging out clams and nymphs and having a grand old time. This was a big fish, 100 feet away and happy as they get. Carp on the fly is about decisions, and I needed to make quite a few at this moment. How to approach this fish? Do I have the right fly? How close can I get? What is my best angle?

The options ran through my head but came back essentially a big zero. This, was going to be tough. There was 100 feet between me and the fish. 100 feet of nasty, slippery cobble that limited my stealth options. Only about 6 feet of water from the shore to the deeps was immediately dropped into 5-8 foot of depth, so sneaking out deep and to the side wasn't an option at all. This was going to be a straight stalk...right up the bank at the fish...careful footstep by careful footstep until I was in position. I ran through the first three rules in my head.

1). Know your forage.

2). Don't cast until you can see its head.

3). You gotta make em move.

Then I got after it. I put one foot in front of the other, slowly. I went as slow as I could force myself to go, then slowed down even more. I used the trees on the bank to break up my outline and I moved along. 80 feet out...the fish was still happily feeding. 60 feet out, and I can make that cast but rule #2 popped into my head, so I kept creeping. One more step and a real problem suddenly emerged. 20 feet away, just 35 or 40 feet from my fish was a small, actively feeding carp. No chance of sneaking by this fish, and I had zero interest in catching this fish. I stopped and pondered this situation for a minute. Immediately I knew I had to spook this carp, but I couldn't spook it hard for fear it would make a ruckus, and take the big girl with it into the depths. I rejected the idea of lining the fish, or doing anything that involved me getting any closer. Instead...I slowly stood up out of my crouch and inched to my left to make my profile show against the sky...ever so slowly. I stood there, exposed, but not moving. The small carp stopped feeding, and turned and swam off with great dignity. It knew something wasn't right, but hadn't hard spooked. The game was still on.

I crept closer, muttering "rule #2" under my breath. 50 feet...40 feet, I nearly stopped here but the fish was still mostly a general shape in the glare, only truly visible because of the tail continuously slapping the surface. At about the 30 foot mark I could see the rounded head, gills, and the occasional white mouth as the carp munched something dug loose from the cobble. I made my cast, landing the two fly rig about 5 feet past the fish, right on line. I quickly lifted my rod tip and dragged the flies into position, just inches from the still feeding fish, and I let them drop to the bottom. As they sank, I counted to five in my head to gauge depth, and at five I saw the white flash of a mouth, right about where my San Juan worm should have been...I set the hook.

I nearly lost the fish right then. Most 20 plus lb fish are dogs, but this guy blasted out into the river in an instant and I almost got in my own way. Fly line peeled off the reel, backing next and I looked out to see a barge way out in the river. I laughed at the idea of this fish catching the barge, then reconsidered the laughter as backing continued to disappear. Eventually, the fish slowed, and I towed her back in to my waiting net. 36 inches, 26 lbs...a real, serious athlete.

It was late in the day, and the Death March had once again done its job. I was busted...beat up, aching and tired, but this last fish had been worth the work. I sat on the bank for a few minutes and watched the barge, listened to the river and replayed the take in my head. The stalk, the cast, the distinctive white mouth flashing as a well fooled carp eats...all good things, made better because they didn't come free.


Sunday, March 15, 2015

One Shot

The fish was coming right at me, about 30 feet up the bank...a head on shot. She was slow cruising, but unlike most slow cruisers there was no side to side searching, no sudden stops or tip ups...just a steady, slow, dead forward movement. Still, her body posture just screamed feeder. Her head was lower than her tail, and her movement, while straight lined, had a clear purpose. This fish was looking to eat. With a head on view of both length and girth, I knew I was looking at a 20 lber. I figured I had one shot.

My only cast was a good one. I laid the two fly rig just past and to the left (the deep side) of the fish. When the flies hit the water I immediatly lifted the rod tip and slide the flies just under the surface and into position. The angle of the cast and subsequent drag put my worm pattern directly in front of the slowly moving carp...maybe10 inches away. The hybrid, unseen due to distance and color would finish about 6 inches out and somewhat in line with the carps right eyeball. As the flies settled, I shifted focus and watched the fish. I knew the worm was heavier and could see it falling through the column in my mind as I watched for a reaction from the carp. I counted silently, aware that the lighter hybrid would be a beat or two behind the worm on its descent. As I hit a three count in my head the carp turned slowly, ponderously to her right and eased forward at the same glacial pace. I watched and stared...and saw it. The briefest of pauses in molasses motion...all the cue she was going to give. I set the hook, thinking about speed, not power. The big ones don't hold the fly long, and the 2 x tippet doesn't lend itself to a power hook is the name of the game.

The line came tight, and the fish was gone from view headed to the deep water. The rest was a matter of side pressure, palmed reels and good knots. Sometimes one shot is all you need.


Sunday, March 08, 2015

Back in the saddle

Sorry for the long drought...truth is I have been too busy to write, too busy to fish, too busy to do much of anything really. Got a nice vacation with the family in there this winter and caught a beast of a speckled trout thanks to Willy Le of Native Fly Charters, but overall I have just been working and hanging out with the kids. Oh, and playing Pickleball. Sure sign that I am getting old.

Felt young today though! Last year I had some epic early season success, and I have a hunch I can duplicate that again this year should I choose too. I have a couple of early season spots that are easy money, and broke forty twice in March in 2014. I could have done so again today, but I hate one of those spots. The bottom is soft, the water dirty, and the fish are lethargic and not very big. Still, it is a h ck of an icebreaker after a long, cold winter and I stuck 9 fish there this morning. Enough to feel good, and open up an afternoon of exploration and hunting. Leaving a sure thing paid off with the 21 lb beast pictured above.

All told I landed 16 carp. One monster, and several really nice fish. The 21 was a memorable take. She was tailing actively in waist deep water and all I could see was her tail and a mud cloud. I dropped my hybrid rig into position and did a slow count to 6 to let the flies hit bottom. I counted one more in my head, and as I said "seven" I lifted the rod, figuring the fly had been in the perf ft spot and she wouldn't need long to slurp it up. I guessed right, came tight and battled that fish with 2x tippet and a 5 wt superfine fiberglass rod. I was pretty fortunate to land her, and will probably put the glass away early this year. I took a beating today.

I had one other big fish eat, but she destroyed me quickly, diving into some branches...I had no chance with my gear of choice today. All in all, an outstanding first day to the 2015 season. All 16 fish ate a standard green hybrid, not one fish on the worm today. They dig that stupid fly.

More to come...the season has begun!