Wild fish in the rain

This past weekend I took by father and bro-in-law into some wilderness in search of the wild trout. I have been the designated guide over the years in the trout world as I'm the one hitting the streams. I grew up in a bass boat with my father, which is much fun in itself, but took up the chase of trout while in college some years back.

I don't know why it is but sometimes it seems when you plan a big trip some kinda weather front will move in to hamper things, and this trip was no exception. But, as an avid outdoorsman constantly chasing things than swim, climb or grunt, I realize it often can increase your chances of success. This particular trip proved the nasty rain front was just what we should have ordered.

So quickly after church we took off to a destination new to my bro-in-law as in the past I normally take him to hatchery streams. However, over the last couple years I've been draggin him to more remote and less worn out water. He just likes to catch fish but I've been trying to come up with new ideas for us as our time to fish together is back to normal since he moved closer back home.

After suiting up at the stream I tied on a #16 para march brown and was quickly awarded with the beauty of a brown pictured above. You can't miss the unmistakable red markings on this brown, a real jewel of a fish. I somehow missed three strikes before finally getting to the top of the run where this much larger fish gave a strike a kid could land. He was just perfect and gave up a great little fight. I thought at this point I wouldn't bother with a dropper but just as that thought ended here came the rain. Never heavy really but very steady. It seemed to end any dry fly action so I quickly went to a #18 BH Prince. This was again my ticket that never needed changing but once...when an overhanging limb stole it...stinkin trees.

We landed numerous fish, probably 15+ total with each an equal #. My bro-in-law took the larger fish, a boss of a brown with his trusty rooster tail. I wasn't undone though and followed him up with another brown of near equal size taken from a very unlikely run in shallower water. Here are the two of them:

I was more than thrilled to simply know a trout of this size was hanging around in this stream but even more thrilled when he landed it. He somehow managed to bring three fish out of this same hole with the larger one being the last to bite.

All in all the day was right on, sometimes you just have to grin and bare weather conditions that just don't feel right at first. Like my dad said on the way up, "the way I see it, the fish are already wet, it'll only bother us." (he's a quick thinker) We had a great time fishing and joking constantly. I'm a dang moron anyhow so all my better friends have an excellent sense of humor.

Oh, I almost forgot. But first! For all you babies who cry when a wild fish dies...you might want to go grab a tissue. Anyhow, my dad layed the SMACK DOWN on a rainbow. Poor little feller didn't know what was coming when he "over-set" the hook. Pulled that booger right out of the water and straight down onto some rocks. That was it for him. It was clearly an accident as these wild fish, no matter their size, can strike like king kong. We had to laugh as we had no other choice. I tried fish CPR for about 10 seconds and woulda brought out the paddles but we left them in the truck. Dad was upset but fish are fish and he didn't intend for it to happen. Wait, I feel like I'm apologizing or something. Now I need a tissue...

Well, until next trip...tight lines and long live the wild trout (unless my dad is fishing and you better learn how to fly)!

More wild feshin'

Following the most excellent fishing trip with my son on Saturday my fellow fishing partner and I hit some wild water after Sunday morning church. The weather was just perfect and so was the water. We took out right after service and took my old yota' while I continued to push it's limits on a dirt road for many miles into some local wilderness. I just can't name the stream as I feel it's a smack in the face as it's whereabouts are already nowhere near a secret. Its steep trail to the stream does continue to keep a great deal of folks at bay, which is a great thing. I'd put up a gate if the NCWRC would let me!

After hitting the trail and eating a pack lunch on the hike in we finally geared up and began casting at around 12ish. No hatches were coming off which was a big surprise given the temps but we quickly started catching fish. I landed quite a few wild bows in the 6-8 inch range on a prince nymph in about a #18 or so. I don't tie flies so knowing exactly what size the hook is when I open the box is near impossible for me and sometimes seems downright pointless. So, at this point I don't really care. But I do recognize enough to know I drug it behind a #12 march brown parachute with about 12"-14" inches of tippet. This combo proved to by my only flies for the day, there was no need to switch because I hit it right on the money for once and luckily didn't have to fumble around diggin through my box all afternoon.

The first bow didn't hang around long enough for a pic but took the prince in a quick run feeding a large pool. After a couple hours I began missing and getting more and more strikes on the march brown and the tippet became frayed, so I clipped off the prince and went DRY solo. It turned out to be the ticket from about 2-4pm. This stream has plenty of fish in it but on this clear water day they proved to be the wiser. My big clumsy rear gets a little anxious at times so I scared a few into a coma I think. All of the fish landed and seen this day were bows with one beautiful brown who took the dry. To my dismay the pic turned out a little fuzzy (seen above).

In the end I probably landed 5 or so and missed twice and many and embarrsingly spooked too many to name. This stream was running near perfect levels and will remain on my top 5 list. And props to my fishin partner in crime...that joker can cast a stinkin' 80 foot roll cast I think. Maybe he'll lend me those skills one day...

"Let me throw it in!"

One of the most fun things to me nowadays about hunting and fishing is taking along my 2 year old son. The boy is a flat out blast to be around and he naturally loves the outdoors. If it's possible for such a thing to be "bred" into a human then he has no option.

On this past beautifully warm Saturday we hit a family pond just up the road. The bluegill that call this place home are ALWAYS hungry and would hit a blasted hopper in December. Gotta love ponds! We switched it up, caught about half on a live cricket with the bobber and dad took his fair share with a dry hopper. Just tons of fun.

His main part was throwing the fish back in the water. "LET ME THROW IT IN!" was the recurring statement heard over and over as we pulled fish after fish out of this pond. I love it!