A Couple Days Brown Nosing

The good old HF rolls into perfect shape this time of year, in fact, most rivers and lakes do.  It's one of the things I look forward to the most in the fall. Amid beautiful leaves and scenic sunsets, an angler can shower him or herself with the gold buttered bellies of beautiful brown trout. They're hungry, they're active, and they're eager to ruin a streamer's day, or so they think.

I have only really managed two trips wholly dedicated to fishing so far, but both have been superb.  Fish have been on the prowl and actively chasing streamers for about a month now.  Actually fish are always open to streamers if you do some looking, but the insanely accessible streamer bite has been on since September, hence all the great trout showing up on people's Instagram and Facebook feeds.

The first day was a solo outing. I didn't cover much water in terms of river miles, but I didn't have to, the fish were all too willing.  The selfies weren't the best in quality, but enough to ensure the good memory would remain. The river was filled with moss, but fighting the salad was worth it.  In the end I had such a sore arm from casting and fighting good fish, that I gave up on taking pictures of even the good ones.  I also stripped a couple pretty good cuts into my fingers. Would I do it again...in a heartbeat.  Here are some of the better fish and photos from that day.

Nothin' but net.

We got a drooler here...

King Whitey, who apparently has a taste for streamers.

The second trip was this last Wednesday.  Shane had classes in the morning and planned on meeting up afterward.  I had the whole day so I set the alarm clock to early thirty in the AM. I had originally thought that the blood moon eclipse was going to happen around 1am, so I didn't plan on catching it, but it turned out to be at its peak around 4am. I hit the snooze a couple times before I got up so I ended up catching most of the eclipse, but missed the peak. Man we live in a world with some beautiful and cool things. After loading a couple last things I hadn't the day before, I hopped in my little black Honda and hit the road, admiring the night sky and moon. I love driving at night. The world seems so much quieter and the driving solitude is therapeutic.

It was too early to hit up Gator Jack's for their superb breakfast burritos, so I settled on a Mc-it'll-make-a-you-know-what breakfast. As I pulled up to the river there was just enough light to rig up, and enough bite in the air to need a jacket. I meandered down to the water, taking in the beauty of the morning and quiet rushing of the river. I had tied on a couple new patterns, stupid simple ones (I love a simple fly), that I have done quite well with this year.  The Skullcracker streamer was followed with a Skullchaser streamer (I'll eventually get a tutorial up for both).  First cast produced a swirling miss just before my feet.  It was a sign of the good fishing to come. I fished the morning, picking up two good fish, missing others, doggedly sticking with my streamers.  I know there were more fish to be had in the area, but this is fall, and I ain't nymphin' till I have to.

Tail ONE

Magic Dragon eater...

Tail TWO

After beating the area to a satisfactory fishy pulp, I decided to take a drive elsewhere.  Once further down river I managed a few more fish in quick succession. Shane called by this time and we decided to float the river.  After hooking, and unhooking a fish while we made our plans over the phone, I hiked back to the car and headed for the takeout so we could run our shuttle. As I pulled into the parking area, my initial thought was, "oh man, there are a lot of people floating the river today." But under further inspection I noticed a scattered group of people, all with paint and easels, a few with tight, weird looking stretchy pants and long hair, and most with umbrellas. Apparently it was a class or some kind of painting get together. We would have the river to ourselves.

We drove up to the put-in, set up the raft, hooked a few fish in the process, and then hit the water.  We hadn't gotten 100 yards from the put-in and we were already accessorizing the fish, adding new jewelry to their brown, buttery lips.  It was a great day.  The first half of the float was fantastic, lights out fishing.  Things slowed down as the terrain changed.  We probably would have done better, numbers-wise, nymphing or switching up streamer colors by that point, but we didn't care to.  The day was spent drinking in the bluebird sky, golden foliage, and cool clear water.  We watched bald eagles chilling on their perches and gracefully gliding through the air in circles.  Laughing, and discussing life, our little raft meandered with the current, until we found ourselves at the take-out.

There's probably a hobbit hiding somewhere in there...

When at the take-out we quickly packed things up and headed to one last spot to end the day.  It was Shane's turn for the honey hole. The beehive gave up a couple dandies, and then we decided to call it a day.

As we loaded the last of our gear in the vehicles, I stopped to admire the beautiful moonrise brightly reflecting in the water.  I thought to myself, what a blessing it was to spend a day on the water with a great friend, doing something I love. Yes indeed, it was a good day.

Looks light, but it was actually quite dark outside by this point.

With the fishing so good right now, it is hard to focus on anything else!  And there are so many options of good places and times to fish right now. The next trip can't come quick enough... now I need to go tie up some more Skullcrackers and Skullchasers.

Like a River

The face palm of change took me by suprise. It taught, and is still teaching me some valuable lessons. Change is the one dependable and consistent thing in life. It's a backwards idea, an oxymoron really. In some ways anglers thrive on change. Change and rivers go hand in hand. The spring water becomes a small stream. The stream becomes a creek. The creek becomes a river. The river rises and falls with the weather. It weaves, rolls, rumbles, bubbles, and meanders over an ever changing terrain. The river changes and is changed.  Life is like that river, it changes, and sometimes in the ways we least expect.

I've never considered myself a roofer of any skill or talent, so it was with great surprise that I found myself shingling.  Actually my face was the roof, my nerves and their viral "friends" were the roofers, and my eye was the unfortunate bystander who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  In plain speech, I was hammered and struck down (like a nail) by the herpes zoster virus, which is known to most people as shingles.  It set in the day we were headed back from our Yellowstone trip and affected the whole right side of my face.  Pain, discomfort, itching, oozing, ugliness, and an eye swollen shut were a few of the glamour-less symptoms.  Avoiding the long story, the virus damaged the cornea in my right eye, leaving a bit of blur to the vision, and a much higher potential for future problems (including blindness).  I also managed to get the flu right during the early stages, which made circumstances miserable.  I've been taking an antiviral ever since I first went to the doctor.  The ophthalmologist (eye doctor) said I should take it for life as a preventative measure.  Which brings me to the current predicament.  I have been dealing with a fun rash all over, which appears to be an allergic reaction to the antiviral treatment, and a recent blood test revealed a very high TSH level.  I'm now taking thyroid medication and trying with all my might to resist scratching.  I have not felt the same since the shingles set in, and it looks like I have a potentially long and uncertain road ahead.

It's quite the sob story, wouldn't you say?  Maybe it is surprising to hear, but I wouldn't change it.  I'm grateful for it.  The eye damage and potential risk, for lack of a better word, sucks, but I have been shaken in a very good way.  The flavors of life are made richer by the realization that life is fragile.  Life is a gift.  It is a daily gift.  The beautiful things we can see, hear, and feel are a gift.  I'm trying to be a better man for my children and my lovely wife.  I am still spending time with my legs in the water and rod in hand.  It's therapy.  But it's not at the expense of my family.  Time spent in all these places is cherished all the more now.  I am a shaken and humbled man by my very own mortality, but I'm choosing to focus on the sweetness of what I have, not the bitterness of what I am losing.  It really is a scary thought thinking you may not see your wife's or children's faces because of illness.  The thought of never seeing another sunrise in all it's glory is terrifying.  So I am focusing on what I have, taking things a bit slower, listening to my body and spirit, and storing up all the beautiful images I can.  Who knows what is around the river bend.  All I know is that it won't be boring, that is for sure.

In the business that is my wonderful family, two jobs, PA school applications, homework, and church I have managed to slip out a bit here and there.  Here is one pleasant offering the Lord blessed me with when I found myself with a few spare hours after a surprisingly shorter workday.

And can I just say that I have the most amazing wife.  She's tougher than nails, prettier than pretty, and more supportive than an iron beam holding up a 50,000 ton building.  I really am a blessed guy, and I look forward to an amazing fall season of fishing, even if I have to do a bit less of it.

New Video: "Summer's Gone"

Make sure to follow the link on over to Vimeo to watch it in HD.



Summer's Gone from Chris Cutler on Vimeo.

Steroid Bows and Small Hooks

Why is there never enough time when the fishing is excellent?  I have to keep reminding myself that there will always be good fishing somewhere, and big fish to catch even if I can't get after them right at the moment.  I really can't complain considering I was fortunate enough to make it out last week for a bit more fall fun.

Brent, Shane, and I had been trying to make plans to chase some beefy bows, but kept struggling to synchronize our schedules.  The hope was to tackle some spunky spitfire bows with streamers.  We finally managed to get a day set in stone. 

Once we were on the water the streamer plan quickly changed.  Shane had been a few days before (Oh the life of a bachelor.  He gives me a hard time about it too.  Every now and then I have to remind him of the perks of being married.  That usually shuts him up pretty quick... ha ha), and found that streamers weren't necessarily the best approach.  We picked up some healthy bows on our black fish jewelry, but the real ticket was found in good old fashioned nymphing. 

My first for the day, picked up on a black streamer.

 This sweet hybrid Shane picked up already had three copper johns stuck into it.  Two were in the mouth and one on the fin!!!

 As much as I love picking up fish on streamers, it feels fantastic to have a hard fighting fish on the other end of your 5 weight!

Of all the guys I have fished with, I have to say that Shane has some of the best facial expressions!  

Locked and loaded.

One drawback to fighting big fish with little nymphs is the stress of losing fish.  Confidence levels are much higher when bringing a fish in on a size 2 hook, as compared to a 14, 16, or 18.  In the first run we were fishing I set into a huge fish and my mind immediately when into freak-out mode.  The stress of landing the monster was tangible and what made things worse, I had given my net to Shane who was on the other side of the river!  I kept the fish in the water as Shane began making his way over, but while I was holding the fish in the slack water she popped off.  Those losses are always a bit devastating, but the losses make the times we land them that much better.

Brent, with a solid fish.

GoPro glamour.

As dark was setting in I decided to switch back to streamers thinking they would be more productive.  I slowly worked down the run in the failing light.  The sunset was beautiful.  Bump, set, miss.  As the sky grew darker the fish began to key in more on the big stuff.  I cast across the river, let it swing, and then began a steady slow strip.  A few long strips in I felt the familiar throb on the other end and strip-set hard.  The fish responded with slow, heavy head shakes.  I thought I had foul hooked a carp!  After a fantastic bull-dog fight the beautiful brown came to hand.  Brent came to my aid with his net and relieved the stress of landing the fish with one good scoop.   A beautiful brown with a beautiful sunset.  I was satisfied.  Shane and I picked up a few more in the dark, but then we all decided to call it a day, and what a day it was.
 

It was a pleasure fishing with Brent and Shane, as always.  They are headed back out again tomorrow.  Sure wish I could go, blasted biology test!

Brownilicious Daydream

New video put together.  Follow the link over to Vimeo for HD.  Have a look. 



Brownilicious Daydream from Chris Cutler on Vimeo.

It's Good Fishing For A Resaon

There are hidden nuggets of fly fishing gold scattered all over the world.  What keeps them from being pillaged and plundered?  In a word, work.

Not all fishermen are the same.  (Insert "DUH" here.)  Like anything else in life, people are all over the spectrum.  Most are content to access the easy and convenient, while another smaller group are the complete opposite.  They are those who search hard and relentlessly.  They are not afraid of fishless experiences and mistakes.  These few are the gold-diggers.  The kind that would make Kanye proud.  And the source of their wealth... it's work.  The difficult access, the uncomfortable situations, the dangerous moments, these are all things many fishermen avoid.  I see no curse, but a blessing.  In a world where information is ridiculously accessible, less and less "gold" is hidden.  The only thing that keeps special fishing sites safe is that it requires a lot of effort to get to them and back.

Be warned, if you put forth the effort to find spectacular fly fishing, you too can become hooked.  Memories, ideas, and visions of untapped gold do not leave the mind easily.

So when Brent extended the invite to chuck a fly at monstrous moody macks and brooding behemoth browns, the idea was too much to pass up.  Sure it was supposed to be a long hike, and the weather called for rain, wind and snow, but has that stopped us before?  We looked at the situation and thought the fishing would be all the better for it.  For the potential grizzly problem we decided that we would yell at them, and if that didn't work we could pull a Hank Patterson.  Oh, and we had pepper-spray and bear-bells if Hank's advice didn't work either.

Fog and rain accompanied most of the drive there.  We geared up and hit the trail.  It was here that I learned that neoprenes are not meant for hiking.  In fact, unless you want some resistance training on top of a long hike, I would suggest you opt for the breathable waders.  Chafing, a little out of breath, and dang sweaty we reached the water.  The first site we beheld was this amazing full rainbow.

We quickly set to work prospecting for the unseen lake trout.  When we located the schools holding in shallow water they were pretty skittish.  The large streamers we had prepared for large aggressive fish were simply spooking them.  Shane was the first to pick one up on a small streamer he had tied.

After a relatively fruitless hour, and only a few half-hearted chases to show for it, we accepted the situation and switched to egg patterns.  It was the trick and we managed to pick up a handful more.  We lost a couple decent ones, but nothing worth bragging about.  After we each set into a mack, and had spooked up the school enough to shut them down, we decided to go in search of some browns.

 It took a little while to figure out how to entice them to bite.  Initially they showed no interest in what we were throwing.  Black streamers, eggs, and nymphs were all being ignored.  Finally I decided to throw on a Magic Dragon (large sculpin pattern) and had an immediate take.  Three missed fish later I headed down river to catch up to Brent and Shane.  Brent had just lost a very large fish on the jump, rats!  We worked the river down and then back up with intermittent success. 

 

Sweet underwater shot by Brent.  He certainly has a knack for them!

Another sweet shot by Brent.

We were headed out just as the sun was approaching the tree covered hillside.  The hike back out was grueling.  It seemed to go on forever!  By the end of the hike the temps had dropped enough to freeze our still tied on flies.  We also had a close encounter... with a log.  We thought it was a bear and we were all ready to spray it, but after shining a light at it we all sighed in relief.  The large black silhouette in the path honestly had looked like it was moving. 

It was beautiful country, and though I can't recall ever being that exhausted in my life before, I would do it again in a heartbeat.  A 14 mile round trip hike is a lot to do on two hours of sleep.  Maybe next time I will have learned my lesson and will get everything ready sooner!

Brent has a great write up on the trip also.  He's a great guy and remarkably patient with my rambling while fishing.  I imagine Shane will have a post up soon too.