Faith, Focus, and A Few Good Fish

What is a fisherman but a philosopher and a theologian chasing underwater works of art.  One thing about the places we fish is that they give room for our thoughts to breath.  Good company on the water only helps them solidify.  

"It is the chance to wash one's soul with pure air, with the rush of the brook, or with the shimmer of the sun on blue water. It brings meekness and inspiration from the decency of nature, charity toward tackle makers, patience toward fish, a mockery of profits and egos, a quieting of hate, a rejoicing that you do not have to decide a darned thing until next week. And it is discipline in the equality of men-for all men are equal before fish. And the contemplation of the water, the forest, and mountains soothes our troubles, shames our wickedness, and inspires us to esteem our fellowmen-especially other fishermen."
               Herbert Hoover Sept, 1951

Faith in the catching
Children generally have an immense optimism that could put even the most optimistic adult to shame.  I find myself telling William that something is simply not possible, and he will reply with some outrageous or unreal method and is convinced it can still be done.  It often involves dragons, money appearing out of thin air, or his self proclaimed ninja-fighting skills.  Bita and I often chuckle over what we call his "eternal optimism."  Recently Will and I have been tying flies together.  I let him use whatever scraps are produced when I tie, and snip off other small parts of materials he is set on using.  No matter how much I encourage him to tie a boring old wooly bugger, he would rather exercise his own creativity.  All the while he explains just how amazingly effective his new pattern will be.  And who am I to say it won't actually work.  What would the world be like today if it were filled with that kind of optimism and faith?

When do we lose it?  When does the practical monster get us?  It must be a gradual thing because most people have to work at remembering they had it at all.  The fond memories of my childhood are usually connected with fishing, and so it's only natural that I look to them when considering this kind of thing.  As a child I was convinced that if I tried hard enough I could catch a fish in the gutter or the kiddie pool in the backyard.  I would have dreams of catching fishing in the front lawn, as if it were only water pretending to be grass.  As time passed and I started spending more time on rivers and streams, I was convinced there was a fish behind every boulder and under every riffle.  I honestly believed it, and it paid off more often than not.

A spark of that faith still exists in every angler. For some it's more of a flame.  Why else would we do the things we do.  Enjoying the beauties of nature is one of the best parts of getting out on the water, but any fisherman who says that is the sole reason for fishing is kidding themselves.  We fish to catch, and catching brings a satisfaction and thrill.  All it takes is one good "catching" experience and a person is hooked.  One great trip can fuel an anglers faith in their catching ability.  This is true for angling in general, but also applies to different techniques within the sport.  Most guys avoid throwing streamers until they happen to try it and have a good experience.  The good experiences feed our faith and carry us through the bad trips.  Successful angling starts with faith, the more childlike the better.

No one likes to fish with the "Doubting Thomas Angler."  He's the guy that doesn't expect to catch a good fish, or any fish at all.  Part of the joy of fishing with others is celebrating their catches like they were our own.  Don't be a DTA.

Faith can be a slippery topic in life and it's no different with fishing.  Sometimes faith is hard to hold onto when, as an adult, you understand what is really going on in the world.  There's so much violence, so much hate, and an endless supply of selfishness.  I guess what it all comes back to is how important it is to remember your own childlike faith, and do your best to hold on to that immense optimism.  There are infact (I believe) more good people than bad.  Most people only want happiness in life.  Yes, faith can be as slippery as a fish, but despite the messiness of life things will work out.  Fish will be caught.  Good fish are everywhere.  There may not be time to fish now, but there will be later.  Believe it and good things will happen.

Focus on the catching
We have all had those days when we probably should be doing something else, rather than hitting the water, but we find ourselves standing in the river with a rod in hand.  Maybe we left the house with the significant other looking like they just bit into a particularly sour lemon.  Maybe your to-do list has gotten so full it should be called a to-do novel.  Or maybe you stayed up far later than you should have and really should be sleeping or studying.  Whatever it is, we all know that feeling where we should be doing anything but fishing.  Hopefully we keep these trips to a minimum, but they do happen.  The few I have been on have taught me a lesson in focus.

If you aren't focused on the catching, very little happens.  Sight and touch/feel are probably the two most vital senses an angler possesses.  If you can't see or feel what is happening on the other end of the line, you are S.O.L. (so outta luck).  This is probably a "duh" point but the more attention and focus we can give when on the water the better our catch rates will be.  We'll miss less fish, learn the run better, and understand how to fish it.  A distracted day is a day spent wandering to and fro in the water, casting much and catching little.  Focus on what really matters, and then you can focus on the fun things and all aspects of your life will be blessed.

A Few Good Fish
This spring has been hit and miss.  March was filled with great fishing.  April has been pretty retarded fishing-wise, not to mention all the other junk that is going on in the news.  We don't pester fish once they have started cutting redds, so that limits a lot of the potential fishing in April.  Add in extremely high winds, runoff, and some nasty dips in temperature, and this month makes for tricky fishing.  With the ups and downs, we have managed a few decent fish here and there.  Here are a couple pictures of fish from both months.

Shane and I just got home last night from a two day steelheading trip.  It was later than I would normally go, but school took priority and pushed things back a bit.  It was a successful trip, with some good fish caught.  Report on that to come soon.

In the meantime, have faith.  Focus on the things that last and matter most.  You might find yourself catching a few things that really make you happy in life.

Fishplosions In The Night

The fishing lately has been superb.  I find myself waiting for the bottom to drop out, but the streak appears to continue.  My wife and kids headed out of town for a couple of days and I was left alone because of school and work.  So it only made sense to get together with another bachelor and chase some tail.  Fish tails to be exact, the kind that don't get a married guy into trouble, well actually... nevermind.
The fishing everywhere seems to be catching fire, so we aimed our sights on a close location.  I had class till later in the evening, so this was providential.  To our great surprise there weren't any other fishermen around... on a Friday... in the evening... with beautiful weather.  Neither Shane nor I won the bet we made as we drove up the dirt road (he said 7, I guessed 4).  We headed right for the best looking stretch and like home-run hitters, began swinging away.  We both had quite a few fish crush the flies, some of which stuck around to fight, but in the end we lost more than we landed.  The ones that we did land were healthy chunks though!

Dark set in and we decided to head out so Shane could make it to a prior engagement.  If anyone could have seen us trying to wade out they would have laughed.  There were a couple times we almost found ourselves swimming.  Deep holes are hard to see in the dark, even with a headlamp. And being secure in my masculinity I asked Shane if he would buddy wade back to the bank with me.  It was a brief but good trip, and fortunately we made it home without incident.

I had to work the next day, but had an inkling that I would be done with still enough time to fish.  I left the office around 5:30pm and made contact with Shane who was already fishing, and had picked up a couple average brownies.  About 6:00pm I was at the river (SF) and was gearing up while I waited for Shane to meet up.  He finally showed and we began the respectable walk to what had been the honey hole in years previous.  Once we reached the river I immediately knew this was no longer the case and we would have to do some searching.  After looking up and down the river, and seeing promising water in both directions, we opted for the downstream route because it required less bushwhacking.

As we headed down we hit all the great looking water but with nothing more than a couple little bumps.  Looking at the water, you could tell that there were fish there, but that something was not right for the catching.  By this time the sun was behind the trees and the air was cooling.  The moon was peaking over the hills and we could tell it was going to be full and bright.

Shane and I had tried to do some night fishing last week but something came up.  I had packed my headlamp in my backpack so I would be ready when another opportunity presented itself.  Fishing through the night was not the plan for this trip, but all the stars seemed to align.  Just as the light of the sun was fading, the light of the moon grew brighter.  We could see the water and there was almost no need for a headlamp.  There was something beautiful about standing there in the water, listening to the running river, with a cloudless, dark star-speckled sky above and an amazing white orb overhead.  It felt right and I knew that if there was any night to be fishing, we happened right into it by luck.

We kept hitting the water with little success until we found some rising fish.  Swinging the streamers shallow, going from the fast to the slack water began producing what can't be described as anything else but fishplosions.

Fish-plo-sion: n [fish puh low shun]
                  1. The awesomeness that is a fish exploding out of the water, with the intent to destroy, mutilate, and eat your fly.
                  2. The mess that ensues when some kind of firework is placed inside a dead fish. (Think of the movie Tremors, with the dynamite and rope.)

It happened again and again.  Cast. Swing. Fishplosion!  Sometimes there would be some very slow stripping just after the swing, but the explosive results were the same.  We were struggling to hook up for the first hour.  The monsters below were short striking more often then not.  I had one hookup, that produced a continual fishplosion out of the middle of the river.  It was a big fish, but threw the hook after a few glorious moments of bent 8wt.  I picked up one average guy, who had been savoring a tasty little whitefish.  After a while Shane managed to hook up with a solid fish and the fight was nothing more than epic.  Watching the water explode in the moonlight was something I will never forget. 

First monster of the night.

We moved around and found that there were two productive spots.  We would fish one until we hooked a decent fish and then go back to the other.  Fish would move in after we let it sit for a bit.  We probably could have kept doing this for a few more hours when we chose to leave, but thought to leave it on a good note.

It's pretty amazing to see the different colorations on fish.  Even fish of the same species can have such differing patterns and colors.  I included a few of the same fish here because I can't get over the spot pattern he has.  The spots were almost like a leopards spots.  And this fella had one gnarly kipe!

Shane picked up the last behemoth of the evening and we decided it was a great way to end a spectacular night.

I can't seem to get those fishplosions out of my head.  It has me thinking of other places that could produce similar results.  I have also been inventing new fly patterns in my mind to give the ideal profile in the water, the right depth during the swing, and a respectable stinger.  It was one of those trips that puts you on a fishing high that lasts for days.  This trip will always be remembered as a first because of all the crazy fishplosions in the moonlit night. 

Shane also has a great write up of the trip over at The Fish Hunter Chronicles Check it out!

Contemplating a good day...

Fished the South Fork of the Snake River today.  Low water makes things much easier to navigate.  If someone had a mind to they could pace the whole river... almost.  I found myself standing in areas of the river bottom, looking around me and thinking, "this places has seen some powerful water."  The shape of the gravel bars, huge trees with roots intact, and crystal clear water make one feel they are wandering through a natural art gallery.  One created in the literal "wake" of a monstrous creature.

 I stared into some deep water thinking how much more deep it would be when flows are high again.  I feel a bit sheepish admitting it, but water SCARES me.  It's powerful, and as fishermen that is something we ought not to forget.  It's a fickle thing, and a love hate relationship of sorts.  Water (or the things water can do) gives me the heeber jeebers at times, but I can't seem to leave it alone. 

I headed to the river with the intent to primarily nymph, but after a while and only one little brown to show for it, I swapped to a streamer.

The large black articulated offering was the ticket.  I trailed a large prince and had a couple takers on it as well, but most of the fish came on the streamer.  The clear water made for some exciting takes!  The extra rush from the aggressive takes while fishing streamers has me hooked.  I can't believe I didn't start this type of fishing sooner!

Browns and Cuts for the day.  Didn't touch a single bow.

Check out this midge stew!!!!   These little buggers were everywhere, but I didn't see a single fish rising the whole time out.

Have you ever seen a happier looking brown?  Seriously, this guy looks like he's smiling.

Camo.

Natures bling.

Last one for the day.

Wind

The homework was finished so I drove to the river.   I parked the car and sat there watching the gale force winds whip the willows around frantically and lay the grass flat.  Sitting there I half expected to see a house or a witch fly by.  And then I started the car and drove home.  I am a die-hard fisherman, ask anyone I know and they will attest to it, but if there were one deterrent holding me back it would be the wind.  It is fishing kryponite in most cases.  Curse you wind.  The fish thank you for sparing them sore lips.

Here's a bit from yesterday's adventures though...



No takers on the streamer.  The brown rubber legs shouldered the load.

If you are craving a hard fighting trout, the Henry's Fork can't be beat.  Healthy fish with an attitude!

Tying and Catching = Awesome

I slipped out the door around 3 and headed to the closest accessible water I could think of that had large fish potential.  Twenty minutes later I was bundling and rigging up.  The wind was blowing and a snow storm rolled in as I headed down to the water.  It took a little while to adjust to the direction of the wind and to the new Glacier Gloves (A great gift from a giveaway over on YGF's blog.  Thanks again!).  The gloves worked great once I got used their feel.  I was surprisingly toasty despite the conditions.  It's amazing what good layering can do for you, and how you can be standing in the middle of a river, surrounded by a blizzard, and feel completely comfortable!

I threw a black streamer with a hares ear trailer for the first while.  Had one taker on the trailer.

After a while I switched to a nymphing setup.  The good old brown rubber legs, pheasant tail, and midge setup.  I managed a few more medium bows.

Not the most glamorous bow ever, but still put a tug on the line.

After things had completely shut down I started my way back upriver toward my vehicle.  While wading against the current in the quiet cold dark I started pondering on the fish that were caught.  I analyzed the circumstances in which they were caught and what they were caught with.  I often do this.  It is part of the fun, trying to understand your success and learning to duplicate it.  But this time it occurred to me, the fish were caught on flies I had tied myself, and looking back I had trouble trying to remember catching a fish on a fly that I did not tie myself.  As goofy as it sounds, the realization felt good.  Something of a personal accomplishment.  I feel much more self-sufficient as an angler.  I'm no pro, but it feels good when you start to "get-it" for lack of a better word. 





On another note, I just watched this trailer for an instructional video on European Nymphing and had to laugh a bit.  I kept expecting some car chase or explosion with the music they chose.  Maybe it's just me but I had trouble matching the music with the fishing, at least with the size of fish they were catching.

Strike one...

But in a way, I got walked to first base.  Let me explain.

The weather has been uncharacteristically warm this year.  Indeed, it sometimes seems that fall was just too darn stubborn to leave this year.  We could rename it a new season.  Finter.  Maybe Wintall.  Anyhow, the warmer weather has produced good fishing on the rivers in many ways, and a much more comfortable environment when flogging the water.

The warmth has been giving me delusions of grandeur.  Carp grandeur.  Last year winter was a robust blanket of snow that kept falling.  There was so much snow that the runoff just kept going and going and going.  But even with the great amount of snow Jared and I were able to get into fly-carping as early as mid March.  That has been on my mind quite a bit, especially with the warmth.  I'm getting antsy to make a connection with 20lbs of golden goodness.  Jared suggested that we make it a goal to catch the said beast in February.  The moment he suggested this it solidified in my mind.

Tuesday we were faced with the dilemma.  Make the drive for carp that we do not even know will be there, or chase some willing trout with our 3wts.  The sun decided for us and we felt almost obligated to try for some gold.

We arrived around 1:30pm and the spring-fed area we were planning for looked good.  We wadered up, rigged up and set out to sight some fish.  Jared waded out while I wandered down the bank for a different angle.  Ten minutes later and nada.  Not one.  Crystal clear blue water, and all we could find were some carp minnow bait balls.  We couldn't figure it out.  The spring kept the water surrounding it plenty warm for feeding fish.  And then we spotted it.  This area is a cove that comes off of the main river of the Snake and right were it met the river was a large iced up area.  We deduced that this blockage was keeping fish from moving in because it kept the water so cool.  We blind casted around the edges of the ice to see if we could find a wandering trout, but it was not to be.

Low water.

Good to go.

Looking for something... anything!

The Sheet of Ice

Carp Bait Ball

As optimistic as we are, it pays to be a realist.  Before the trip we had decided on a backup plan to follow if things went south.  We drove to another section on the river fed by springs.  Walking up stream a bit we felt like we found the end of the rainbow.  We had walked up on about 6-7 feeding carp.  Here was our chance.  Unfortunately we botched it.  The circumstances made for tough fishing.  Fly eating lava rock bottom, the sun just about to sink below the horizon, heavy flies, and sluggish fish all added to the difficulty and I can't lie, I'm rusty!  These fish had their tails up, but were hardly moving.  It appeared that they were very slowly sucking things in and out, but we couldn't really get close enough to see.   After a few poor attempts by both myself and Jared we realized the visibility just wasn't enough for the tough situation.  If we had started there at midday this post may have been very different.


Not being willing to give up so easily we decided to use the magic fishing hour to seek out an otherwise wary trout.  I stuck on a black streamer, walked out to the drop off before the current and lobbed away.  On only a few casts in BAM!  Fish on.  Jared walked down to watch the fight.  The fish fought well and I wasn't so sure that I hadn't caught a carp.  After a good roll we could identify it as a good trout.  Thanks to Jared's netting abilities this beautiful male came to hand. The on-site pictures don't do its size much justice.

Jared's son loves fish and is glad when his dad can bring some home, so this guy was slated for the dinner plate.  One more shot before dinnertime.

Strike one for carp, but the month isn't over yet!