Bass, Carp, And Summer Early

Seems like summer has arrived a little early here on the prairie ocean.  Yesterday, the thermometer reached 96 degrees, and today... was a repeat performance. 

The creek continues to struggle even though we have received some rain over the last thirty days.  Most life in and along the creek seem to be holding their own especially the Johnson grass - which most certainly is thriving.  Right now, the Johnson grass is about a foot taller than this fly-fisher and that makes it about six foot and seven inches.  There are few things I can think of that are more aggravating to the caster of fur and feather than Johnson grass and that grainy millet the grass wears as a crown.  I swear this grass, also known as switch, seems to somehow reach up and out and grab the flies we are trying to offer.

When temperatures get to be where they currently are, I'm forced to limit my fishing activity due to some heat problems of years past.  It's either fish early or late, and if that doesn't pan out then time on the water is limited to a couple of hours.  Yesterday, I fished an hour shortly before noon.

Carrying that sweet fiberglass rod, the first fish of the day was a spunky bass that believed he was wall-hanging size.  This fellow put quite a bend in the glass and just wouldn't give in or up easily. 

Although I'm trying my best to protect the carp, those grand and golden ones, from those who wish to end their lives... I'm still fishing for them.  In order to protect this special creatures, out of the way efforts won't be a problem.  If I have to park at one location and walk a long ways to get to the actual fishing spot... I will.  In addition, the locations fished will no longer be divulged.

A young carp came to hand using the same orange pattern that took the bass.  Seems like all the fish, particularly the perch community, favored the color orange on Saturday.

Calling it an outing around the noon hour, a return trip to the creek would take place late in the afternoon.  Two more carp came to hand on the orange colored fly, but, one wouldn't count because the hook somehow impaled in the top portion of the fishes snout.  In other words, the hook was outside the mouth.  The other carp was a young twenty inch Mirror and this little fish took me within two or three feet of the backing.  What a tremendous determination to win and this is why these fish have my admiration.

There is a tremendous amount of life in the creek right now even with the water level being low.  The fry were slashing the water with a frequency they would make one think their numbers would equal a krill community. 

The rest of the late afternoon was spent admiring the life along the creek.  It was a good day.

Future meal for fish or fowl?

Beautiful butterfly contrasted by ugly mud.

In The Last Week Or So...

THE SATURDAY WASH

There's a big golden trout down in Area 1.  Well... at least he was as of yesterday, and as far as I know he still was as of eleven o'clock this morning. 

I had reservations about even going to the river yesterday.  It seems that since last Thursday I've come to own some kind of palpitations in the chest area.  At times they can be quite unsettling.  Guess my reasoning on Saturday was I could either deal with the thumps in my chest at the bunkhouse or on the river... provided they didn't get any worse. 

Walked into Scotty's around 9 o'clock and his store was quite busy.  Made chat with several fly anglers that I'd never met before and suggested to a couple of them they explore the south wilderness.  Of course my intentions were good, but today I find out the south wilderness had quite the crowd yesterday and there wasn't any parking spaces available in the parking lot.  So... if you are the two guys I told to go there and it didn't work out for you, let me say how sorry I am for giving you some ill advice. 

I knew very well I wouldn't be taking the hike into the south wilderness yesterday because of the thumps in my chest, and therefore elected to go downstream in Area 1. 

At the river I crossed a branch and climbed onto an island going toward a point.  At the point I slide into the river and wade out about fifteen feet.  While rigging up, a rather large golden idol submerged in about four foot of water catches my eye.  No doubt, this big boy is one of the leftover derby trout.

I make about four casts at him, and with each one he simply moves to one side or the other.  After the fourth cast, this golden icon of wall hanging excellence disappears like a fart in the wind.  It isn't long after his departure that I also disappear in the same fashion.  It seems the short wade and climb on the island had compounded the palpitations.  Not being one who cares to share a near-death experience on one of those satellite stations, I packed ass and headed for the prairie home.

At the prairie home I quickly took to the bunk.  After a couple of hours I rise to find myself still uneasy and bored out of my mind.  So... I decide to go to the creek and see what the carp are up to. 

We received rain late in the week and it was enough to have most of the creek blurred.  I did see carp at Charlie's Pasture, but they were all sticking to the far side near the undercut bank.  Now... Charlie ran down there the other day and was able to coax one to take his offering, but on Saturday I would have no such luck. 

Saturday was mostly a wash.

THERE'S ALWAYS SUNDAY

Sunday morning begin pretty much the same with the dominating thumps riding me like fly paper.  Again, I had reservations about even going to the river and it was only when I reminded myself of how many times I've said I wanted to be standing in the river when my good lord and master calls me yonder.  Besides... I figure I've already written a epitaph and it pretty much says to the letter and word, "I've enjoyed all the women I've known, the fish I've caught, and the beer I've drank.  Adios."  With this Sunday morning revelation in hand... I head to the river.

There were two goals on Sunday.  One was to try and locate ol' golden boy again and after giving that effort about a half hour I turned attention to the second goal, which was fishing small flies to rising trout.

Seven or eight years ago, I received the most delightful book from fellow fly-fisher Graham Jones.  This book written by Darrel Martin is not one that can be digested in one setting, or even in a number of successive settings.  It is acutely detailed and technical and gives a lot of attention to the virtues of CDC as a tying material.  I've often wondered which is the buggier material - CDC or peacock herl.  Over time I've digested this book in servings, and it has been a wonderful eye-opener to the beauty of microsized flies.

Seventeen hasn't fished well most of the season.  However, with the way Seventeen is we can usually always count on her to provide a little rising action.  Today was no different. 

I'm not a real good dry fly fisherman... wish I was better.  On Blue... dry fly fishing can be really tough unless we find exactly what the trout are keying on.  On the water today were the same small black flies that Chris, Donny, and myself saw last weekend, but today they seemed much smaller.  I was convinced that the trout were keying on midges today and therefore I fished four or five different variations of the midge.  The midge did seem to be what held interesting to the trout with a number of trout missing my offering or my offering missing them.  I did bring one trout to hand on a black midge pattern.  The only other dry pattern I offered was Ralph's Ol' Gray and sure enough this pattern took a trout.  I think the poor trout came up on the fly so fast he didn't realize what he had until it was too late.

I stay at the river for only an hour and then the driving winds send me packing.  Sunday was much better than Saturday... from a fishing standpoint.

A PASSING CHANCE CARP

Back at the prairie home, I do some chores around the bunkhouse until it comes time to go to the mercantile store for some staples.  On the way to the general store I decide to stop by Rock Creek for a look-see.  Standing high on a bluff looking down I see two carp feeding in the shallows.  The problem is I'm on the wrong side of the creek with no waders or wading boots.  To get to the carp requires me to drive around to the other side of the creek, which I promptly do.  I have no waders, boots, camera, but... but, I do have a makeshift carp rod with a fly attached.

I say makeshift carp rod because the rod I broke during the trout derby was my fly rod for carp.  Instead of sacrificing another "good" rod, I decide to place into employemnt an old Shakespeare rod that has been sitting idle for a dozen or better years.  The Shakespeare is a stick... and, of course there are concerns if it will permit an accurate enough cast to place a fly in front of a carp, exactly where the fly needs to be.  Either I got extremely lucky today, or the question was answered with the first cast.  On the end of the tippet was a well worn and used Carp Carrot.  The Carrot landed about six inches in front of a carp and quickly disappeared from my sight in the off colored water.  Although I couldn't see the fly, I could see the carp and once his gills flared I went for the hook-set.  Indeed, the fly was in his mouth. 

Since the camera was left at the bunkhouse, I must tell you that this was a young carp... only about sixteen inches.  However, he owned the most beautifully red-orange colored tail.  Simply a beautiful creature.

BASS ACTION

If you are looking to get into some Blue River bass action, then your best chances of doing so are from now to the end of March.  With the warming temperatures and with the water warming up significantly, I suggest we are already seeing the pre-spawn at Blue.  It's during this time the bass feed in frenzy as they get ready to make love.  In April they will go into the spawn and late May or June they go post-spawn.

Now is a good time to carry slightly larger buggers in all colors.  White colored buggers or streamers seem to work quite well as does Clouser Minnows, and don't forget the crawdad patterns.  Crawdads have to be on top of the bass menu selection.

Purple Skies And Fish

There's something special about being on the water in the late afternoon and evening hours. There's something extra special about being on the water in the late afternoon and evening hours.... with a friend. And then, there's something remarkable about watching the blue skies of late afternoon slowly give way to evening's purple sage background hovering above the western horizon.

It's during this time that some of us, like me, garnish a certain sense of euphoria. Such was the case this past Thursday while fishing with my friend Curt Tully.

As I stared at the purple sage skies, I found myself asking if there is anything, besides fishing, I really want to do. I already know the answer to the question, but finding a solution continues to elude me.

For Curt, it was more of a sense of Deja Vu and that's easy to understand since he has spent many an enjoyable hour on this particular water over the last several years.

The fish were more than willing from the beginning. Curt would find the first bass using a lizard pattern. It was a healthy young bass full of vim and vigor.



The bass would seem to favor Curt's offerings and the crystal chenille bugger I was using had attracted a rather large fan-base of panfish. With every cast there was a strike, a bump, or a grab at the tail of the bugger. The panfish were also quite healthy and beautifully colored like this brilliant Redbreast.



We eventually drifted to the other side of the pond, leaving the panfish behind, and I found my first bass using a black popper. Again, another extremely healthy fish with lots of fight and spirit.

The summer-like temperatures here of late has caused the moss to flourish and even Curt, being as familiar with this water as he is, was surprised at the crawl of the moss. Stripping my bugger or Clouser threw the moss was pretty much an exercise in futility, so I went straight top-water for awhile.



Meanwhile, Curt continue to dredge and bounce his lizard pattern off of the bottom and kept catching bass including this dandy four pound plus specimen.



It's darn hard to try and take a picture holding the camera with one hand and the fish with the other, and as you can see... this fish was nowhere in frame.



The stars came upon us quicker than we thought and the fishing started slowing down somewhat. But, it was a great afternoon and evening to be on the water. Curt mentioned fishing Arbuckle Lake next, and of course I'm good to go.



Many thanks to Curt for taking me a-fishin'.