Conversations With Carp - Sweating The Talks

Even though I got to the creek rather early this morning, by 7:30 it looked like I had fallen in the creek.  The humidity is so high here I was drenched in sweat. 

Starting out at the pasture we call the Honey Hole it was easy to tell the fishing would not be good here.  A brisk southern wind of the past several days has blown the debris into this stretch and it's completely scummed over.  So, off to the pasture we call the Courtyard.

At Courtyard the water was crystal.  Spotting several young carp upstream a stealthy approach is made their way.  The olive grizzled tan stinger tail is on the line and flipped out to one of the young ones.  The babe eats it right away.  Amazing how strong this young fish was.  I ended up having to jump off the high bank in order to find a place to land the fish.

The calamity I made in the water put the other carp down so it was time to move on.

From the Courtyard I travel to the creek that runs though federal park land.  Arriving at the pasture we call Charlie's Pasture I find big carp.  But, all the big boys and everyone else are suspended on the far side of the creek about thirty feet away.  I keep looking for a favorable carp - one on the graze, a tailing carp, but nary a one can be seen.

Tying on a F fly Charlie give me I cast it to a carp that looks like he is sucking mid-column.  The fish goes for the fly, but in my excitement I pull the fly away from the beeve.  Minutes later another fish goes for the F fly mid-column and again I screw up.  It's time to move on to another pasture.

With each outing I've been picking up trash I find, but have failed to document any of it for future reference.  Today it was a beer can some joker threw in the creek.  I'm in search of a grappling hook I can tie a rope on because so far I have found six tires in the creek and I want those nasty things gone.  A tire can stay intact for hundreds of years and have no place in a creek.

Leaving Charlie's pasture I head to the pastures known as the Beach and Bend.  While sitting on the back of the prairie schooner tying on a chartreuse Biter Critter, Charlie comes by.  He's taking a morning stroll on that monster motorcycle he drives.  Of course we have to talk fly fishing, water, tying more patterns and tourists.  Weekends are almost impossible for Charlie to fish because of the inn he owns and operates.  Charlie wishes me luck and off I am to the creek. 

With the Biter Critter two more carp would come to hand within twenty minutes.  The wind had picked up significantly and it was time to call it a day. 

Now, looking at this picture there will be some of you that accuse me of getting this fish drunk so I could catch it.  But, I assure you that empty liquor bottle is not mine.  I'm a clown at times, but not the kind of clown that throws crap in the creek.

As hot and good a pattern the Biter Critter is, this fly seems to have one fault - at least the ones I try to tie.  They are not durable at all.  After only two carp with this fly this morning the fly was showing a lot of wear and missing one leg. 

Wrapping the morning up I notice how dirty I am and truly carp-by-fly can be a messy affair at times.  I should give credit to my wife Miss Carol for putting up with my carp-by-fly life.  She rarely complains of the mess I carry home to our bunkhouse. 

Thank you Miss Carol.