The Mini-Museum Grows

Over the years the spare bedroom in my prairie home has become a mini-museum dedicated to the fly-fishing world. This past week another friend of mine named Melissa brought me yet another addition to my museum. Her gift came in the form of a tin of Cortland 333 fly-line cleaner. I sent out some feelers to see if other fly-fishers could help me date this piece and I did find out that Cortland started selling their 333 fly-line in 1953. Anyhow I'm posting the following picture in hopes that others can add more input in answering the question on my mind about this latest museum piece.



In my prairie home museum I have more than I know what to do with. On the wall is a dollar bill in a zip-loc bag. It was a dollar bill I found floating in Rock Creek while fly-fishing for smallmouth. Over at the fly-tying tool bench there is a set of Rainbow trout coasters. Leaning up against the north wall is an Eagle Claw Trailmaster ZLII 600 Travel Pack Rod that has never been out of it's case. Over on the old television that is of no use these days are sets of flies given to me by friends such as Michael Mercurio, Ralph James, Chris Adams, and Chuck Kaminski.

I guess it would be safe to say that someone that didn't fly-fish would say that my museum is just a "junk" room. But to me...it's priceless treasure.

Maybe someday I can have a building built to display all my treasure for the rest of the world to enjoy.

Barry

One Fine Day...Almost

Near my prairie home is a small store and each morning I travel there to get a morning cup of hot chocolate. Most mornings there is a certain lady working there and over the many cups of hot chocolate she and I developed a daily conversation and friendship. It was through the conversations that I learned that Karen loves to fish and the more hot chocolate I drank the more I learned and eventually there was one fact that came to bear. You see...Karen has never trout fished and never heard of Blue River.

Well now, no respected Blue River fan or fly-fisher for that fact could let this little problem go unresolved so Karen and I made a date to explore Lady Blue and today we did just that.



Now, I knew going into this that Karen didn't fly-fish and that was okay with me because in my master-plan I would have her fly-fishing before our day was through and it would be one fine day. However, nature had other plans and my plans for one fine day included the word almost.

Karen and I thought we were getting a really early start arriving at the parking lot of the south wilderness about ten minutes after seven. But when we roll in and hitched the ponies we found four other adventurers had beat us there.

Fishing for the first hour was slow for us and only produced one nice fat Kentucky bass. We realized we were fishing behind the other anglers because we could see them making their way upstream from pool to pool.

At our third pool I put Karen on a certain stretch of water but within two minutes she was looking upstream. She asked me if she could go upstream and I told her fine as long as she was careful. A minute after Karen left I landed the nicest bow I've battled so far this season - a beautifully colored two and half pound warrior. It was a terrific fight.

The skies had darkened and become threatening and that's when the thunder started to roll. Shortly thereafter the lightning started to flash and streak so I went to find Karen. I found her a short way upstream and she was excited telling me "there here!" "Who's here?", I asked. Karen promptly told me she had found a honey hole just tossing a small trout back and losing a sixteen incher at the bank. I took position behind Karen to watch her fish and on her next cast I got to see a bow attack her offering with extreme malicious intent. Then that bow came out of the water and did her version of River Dance. It was a beautiful sight to watch. And, let me say this about Karen...she knows how to fight a fish. Karen down and dirtied that bow into submission.

It was about that time the lightning got worse and I shared with Karen my concerns but she wanted to make just a few more casts. Turns out we would wait about fifteen minutes too long and that was just enough time for the rains to arrive.

We were two miles upstream and had to walk back in a drenching rain.


We finally made it to the prairie schooner and decided to try and wait the rain out while enjoying a beer with one another but the rain couldn't make up it's mind. Finally, we decided to go to Scotty's and order a burger to go and have lunch on Blue. After lunch there was a lull in the rain so we tried to fish Glory Hole but five minutes into it the rain came again and it was heavier.

Needless to say I didn't get an opportunity to make Karen a fly-fisher today. But she enjoyed her outing so much, as I did, we're going a-fishin' again and when we do, fly-fishing class will be in session.

Magnificent!

I figured my morning of fishing at Blue today would be my typical morning but at the end of day it proved to be anything but typical.

I hit the trail leaving my prairie home about the break of day. On the trail down I was privileged to see an abundance of wildlife busy being wild. I saw rabbits scurrying across the road and coyotes no doubt giving chase, red tail hawks perched on high lines reconnoitering the landscape, and a rather large family of deer leaping a fence line one after another with the precision, beauty, and grace of a synchronized swim team. It was a good trail drive down this morning.

Arriving at Scotty's, I took in the morning announcing itself in full bright color through the huge orange orb in the sky.


I decided to fish the south wilderness area today better known as the Landrum Wilderness Area. My first stop was Coyote Pass Falls and here I plopped an olive wooly bugger into a pocket and soon a bow would take my offering. It was at this moment my amazing fishing day would begin.


The next ten bows that I captured all would go two pounds or better and I captured them all from the same pocket of water. Never, in my almost thirty years of fishing have I ever had trout to fight like these chaps. They were magnificent!

I put all the fish back and it wasn't long until two bait casting anglers came to the pool I was fishing and these boys looked hungry so I gave them the water. They quickly took four nice bows from the pocket. I moved upstream to the Cove.


At the cove I took two bows in rather fast fashion and hooked one I never turned but then the action just died. It wasn't long until I saw four other casters of fur and feather and they also were getting into fish here and there. Here and there was where the bows were...they were positioned, lying in wait in the countless pockets of the south wilderness.

David with the wildlife department drove up performing part of his daily duties so I quit fishing to chat with him. David has been with the department a long time and is a fixture at Blue River.

I continued on after talking with David and each placed I fished thereafter I would connect with a quality two pound bow. Of all the fish I caught today only four would measure less than fifteen inches. It was an amazing thing. These bows were fat, had shoulders and were beautifully colored plus battle worthy.


About mid-morning I quit fishing for bows and started searching for bass to see if the bass activity is coming on. It is...to a degree. I captured three small spotted bass but no smallies. I think perhaps in three weeks or so we should see some good bass action, particularly if this warm weather continues.

I ventured out into the Scatters to the big falls in search of the bass and the flow of water over Big Falls was still pretty good. But, there are a lot of braids and forks that have no flow at all right now. We really need some rain.


On my way out I noticed that Desperado Springs is bone dry and probably has been for sometime and this fact is quite disheartening. Desperado Springs is one of the more prolific springs on Blue River.


I carried a trash bag today as part of my "spring cleaning" effort on Blue. I kind of like picking up trash for some reason. Really wish I didn't have to pick up trash, but figure it's always going to be there. Studying trash can tell you a lot about humankind. Here I can see there has been some spin fishermen, bait casters, harvesters of fish, someone that needed an energy boost, someone that snuck a beer into the walk-in and someone that was just simply thirsty. I recently said I don't discriminate against any fishing discipline and I don't, but I can certainly chastise all disciplines for trashing the river. If your an angler that trashes the river then I'd hate to see your home.

If I were to measure the quality of a fishing day by the quality of trout caught, their size and fight, then today's fishing was my best day ever fishing for the bows of Blue. If I'd had a stringer and strung six bows...then that stringer would've weighed twelve pounds...at least. It was remarkable.

Right now, the south wilderness is producing larger trout than the catch & release area.

Another Derby Said And Done

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Thank Goodness For The Pheasant Tail

The fishing reports that I'd been hearing for the last ten days about Blue River have been rather dismal. The general consensus was that fishing was really slow. Last night fellow caster of fur and feather Jonathan Boeck called and told me he and and a buddy spent five hours on Blue and went skunk.

Despite of the poor reports and with winds blowing between twenty to forty miles per hour today, I decided to stop by and visit Blue to do some fishing...so I thought. I was headed to Tishomingo anyhow and knew I could dedicate an hour to fly-fishing so logic told me I was doing the right thing.

Jiminy Cricket...fishing at Blue right now is slow. I stopped at Glory Hole and started out with a bugger but the bugger failed me. I noticed some frolicking bows at the surface and even though I knew trying to present a dry would be next to impossible I made my feeble attempt non-the-less. My effort was a disaster. I had no back casting room and was trying to cast straight up in the air and into the relentless wind. My dry splashed down like the Sputnik crashing into the ocean. I was forty-five minutes into my hour with Blue and hadn't had a strike. The dreaded fear of going skunk was crawling on me.

I haven't gone skunk in over seven years on Blue but it seemed like today I would. Out of desperation I tied on a Pheasant Tail and didn't bother with a strike indicator. On my second cast of the Pheasant Tail a bow would come to hand. That bow...that came to that Pheasant Tail...sent the skunk fairy packing.

The river today was clear as a bell and extremely low. I noticed back eddies of algae buildup which I haven't seen in sometime. Rain is predicted for the weekend and hopefully the rains will come. Blue sure needs a drink of water.

The Casting Pool

About two minutes from my prairie homestead on the prairie ocean is a place I go to cast a fly line and all that involves. I call it the casting pool. The casting pool is a narrow and long streamflow that gently and serenely makes it's way to a confluence with other waters.

Unlike the casting pools at Cabelas or Bass Pro Shops this one is within the beauty of nature. The main reason I like to come to this place to cast is because of the people that come here for various reasons and add to the appreciation of the outdoors. Some people come to take their daily walk or take their dog on a daily walk. Some come to paint a masterpiece or finish a novel. Some come to meditate and practice their discipline. And then, there is the fly-caster who comes to practice or simply enjoy part of the beauty of being a fly-caster.

If the casting pool has a proper name I do not know what it might be. Speculation would lead me to believe it would have to be called Vendome Stream or Flower Park Stream. The casting pool is the result of an artesian well flow that has been flowing since I was a kid and even earlier than my existence. At one time this area was private property and show-cased one of the most popular swimming pools in Oklahoma - the Vendome Pool.

When the Vendome Pool was in operation it was the place to be when I was a kid. You could swim all day, lay on a sandy (man-made) beach, dive off the high board, slide down the slide, meet girls, and later in the evening you could play billiards above the shower and towel area. Later on a steak-house was added, rock bands were hired to play, and it was simply a hot place to be. I'll never forget the rock band called Wheatstone Bridge. They were a Oklahoma grown band and they imitated Grand Funk Railroad...actually they were better. Also during this exciting time of my youth the Bellview Plunge was in operation and it was touted as the largest swimming pool in Oklahoma. Both owe their fame and existence to the Arbuckle-Simpson aquifer. In the 1970's both pools closed and the Vendome was acquired by the National Park Service becoming a part of the Chickasaw National Recreation Area.

A fly-caster can come to this place and not worry about hooking a fish because they're are none. This stream simply flows on it's way to join Travertine Creek and then shortly after that the two together join Rock Creek. It's a web of nature. I don't know exactly what it is about casting that relaxes me so much...I just know that it does. And I know that I wouldn't feel nearly as relaxed casting at some fly shop, Bass Pro, or Cabelas compared to the comfort I get when I'm at the casting pool here on the prairie ocean.

A Well Used Vacation Day

I didn't call in sick today but I did burn a day of my 2009 vacation time. I learned a good lesson during 2008 which leans to the old saying "use it or loose it". I lost a full week of vacation time because I simply couldn't find a way to get away from work to take the darn time off. My New Year's resolution though was to use all my vacation time this year and I am holding true to that resolution.

Shoving off from my prairie homestead about fifteen minutes before sun-up I was excited about the prospects of the day. Five minutes down the trail an early morning coyote darted in front of the prairie schooner and I had to back off the ponies to keep from running him down. Guess the coyote was finishing a night out or on an early morning breakfast task.

Pulling into Scotty's I hitched the ponies up long enough to get one of Scotty's breakfast sandwiches. Those puppies are good...fried egg, sausage and cheese on buttered Texas toast.

Arriving at the parking lot at the crossing I decided this was as good a place to start as any. It was still about thirty-five degrees but not bad...just enough to make your hands hurt.

I picked the honey hole above the crossing but after ten minutes I hadn't even received a bump so I went downstream to the flats. At the flats I managed one tiny bow and once I did I moved further downstream. My plan today was to fish the entire campground area.

I passed the riffles and went to where they plunge pool into the top end of Ted's Pool. Here I took my second bow and again it was time to move on.

Now I was headed for the bottom end of Ted's Pool just above Horseshoe Falls. If you like taking small trails you'll love where I was today. From the plunge pool of the riffles you can pick up some small trails that will take you to Horseshoe Falls. Taking these trails prove to be a neat and enjoyable experience but watch the briars - they're thick.

Once again at Ted's Pool it was bow after bow but I didn't want to sore-mouth too many of them. I stayed long enough to get my bow count up to nine and decided to go on dowstream eventually working my way down to Seventeen. At Horseshoe Falls I didn't get a bump and give it about ten minutes, plus I picked up some dang trash off the falls. The river seemed more littered today than usual.


At Horseshoe Falls there is water coming over the fringes but the entire middle of the falls which is the majority of this structure is barely wet. There are just trickles of water here and there.

I carried the trash I had in hand to the campsite at the bluff above Horseshoe and then decided to take a brisk walk back to the parking lot to get the Prairie Schooner. Along my hike I noticed some campsite improvements that Matt and crew have been working on. At campsite four I picked up the trail back to the river and once again found a big mess along the river bank.

Take a look at that big wad of fishing line that was simply tossed down on the bank. Discarded fishing line can become a death sentence to fowl, fish, and other aquatic creatures. Crap people...pick up your trash!

Personally, I think littering on Blue should carry a minimum $1000.00 fine. That stiff a fine should break people from sucking eggs and throwing their crap down on the bank or worse in the water. Maybe there should be a five cents surcharge on every container, package, or vessel of Power Bait, Salmon Eggs, or other baits. That nickel surcharge per container would be earmarked to the State to help cover their costs of their employees having to pick up other people's trash.

I drove down to Seventeen to fish it and there were a few bait fishers already there when I arrived. Sam's Rock looked inviting so I parked my butt there and watched the water for awhile. Seventeen look fairly void of fish but then I saw a trout splash the top of the water. I tried my best to ignore that splash and tossed a bugger. If there were numbers of trout at Seventeen they didn't want a bugger or nymphs. Thinking about that splash I decided what the heck and tied on a dry. The dry chosen was Ralph's Ole Gray and with the first cast Ole Gray found a bow. Three casts later Ole Gray found another but two bows would be it at Seventeen.

I left Seventeen and stopped at another spot that's never produced well for me but today was a different story. Finding a small honey hole I took five bows in short order.

Glory Hole was the next stop and Glory Hole was also good to me today offering up five bows.

I still hadn't fished Area 2 so upstream I went but upon getting there another angler had the spot I wanted to fish so I left it to him. I ended up the day with twenty-one bows which is an excellent day.

Wonderful World Of Buggers

Without a doubt the wooly bugger is a fly we don't want to be without when we're on the river Blue or for most of the waters we fish. Can we build a better bugger? I don't know that we can but we can certainly make tremendous adaptations to the basic bugger.

For a long time I tied all my buggers using chenille as body material but I've gotten away from that standard over the last five years or so. These days I mainly use dubbing for the body of the bugger. Sure...I still use chenille...standard colored chenille, variegated chenille, and even sparkle chenille and they all work wonderfully. But I like the dubbed body look and the slimmer body that it makes.

Now we can use all kind of colors on our buggers. We can tie a solid olive or black bugger or we can tie a bugger with an olive tail, black body and olive hackle. We can finish buggers using the same colored thread as the main thrust of the bugger or we can give it a red throat or black throat. We can use a variety of material for the tailing of the buggers. Buggers present all kinds of possibilities.

I have a friend who likes to turkey hunt and he really seems to enjoy it. I have more turkey feathers than you can imagine and I really don't tie that many flies that call for turkey. Recently I started tying buggers with turkey material particularly with the soft fibers or what is commonly called aftershaft. I like them so far and I think they will fish well.

I don't know if one bugger works better than another but the one I've always been able to count on is one I call the olive split tail yellow. This bugger has just a hint of yellow in the tail on the bottom. I truly believe this is the fly that has kept me from the thralls of the skunk fairy for over seven years now.

Buggers come in all sizes, colors, variations, and one's creativity is what make them so fun to tie.

This is a bugger using the turkey aftershaft I was talking about. I call this one a red-throated tuft tail olive.




Simply changing colors we can have a red-throated tuft tail black.

Grizzly always seems to be a good choice for a bugger and this particular tail is a fan tail with gray body.

This is a red-throated red split tail olive. Another great taker of trout.

Here is a dubbed marabou body red-throated black marabou bugger.

Now buggers may not be our fly of choice but for sure they work. A bugger is not my favorite fly...I prefer a Hare's Ears, Midge, or Adams any day. But one point we can't argue is that buggers work and they work well most of the time. Buggers fall in that "if it ain't broke don't fix it" category.