The Mystery

After work today I went to the vise and tied up a Backstabber with legs.  The original Backstabber worked so well yesterday, I wanted to see what the addition of legs would do. 

I started out at the Beach at Rock Creek and with a cast sent the legged Backstabber on her maiden voyage.  Less than twenty seconds after the fly pierced the film I saw a significant jolt in the line and went for a hook-set.  Under my breath I said, "Number 99!", but it wasn't.  It was a catfish.

After releasing the kitty, I made the second cast of this fly's life and another jolt and again I said, "Number 99!", but again it was a catfish.  One thing for certain was catfish liked this pattern, but whether or not the carp would buy it remained unanswered. 

I decided to go upstream to a stretch of water that is always dotted with carp.  There's not a tremendous number of carp here, but usually every forty or fifty feet you will see one, two, or three carp.  I was in total stealth mode today because I desperately wanted two carp so I could reach 100 battled. 

In the first fifty feet I sensed something wasn't quite right.  I continued to walk ever-so slowly, with each step slower and softer than the previous.  The sky had darkened and was overcast which give me excellent vision due to the absence of glare.  I'd take a step and scan the creek; scrutinizing water in front of me, to both sides, up, down, beyond, and then by quadrants... but no carp were to be seen. 

My steps became even slower, my breathing quieter.  Wherever I could, I would leave the water and take to the bank, even if it was for only ten feet.  But... there were no carp to be seen.

I searched ever so carefully 300 yards of water and never seen a carp.  My brow had deepened as the question of why dominated by thought.

Continuing past Well Springs, I entered the stretch of the creek that is shallow and narrow.   After a short while I came upon a slough with two carp feeding.  However, it was impossible to cast to them for the brush and greenery.  I continued upstream to Shipwreck at the Boulders.  Here, Charlie has caught carp, but I have not. 

There are seven or eight carp available and I cast the new Backstabber to the first carp of choice.  He looks and turns away.  The second, third, and fourth carp do the same.  Out comes the orange and olive Carpola and on it goes.  Across the creek are two carp feeding in the shallows and the Carpola is delivered to the nearest fish.  He sucks it and I set.  He heads straight for overhanging brush but I pull him out and he becomes number 99. 

The battle sends pheromones through the water and the remaining carp scatter.  The sky has grown darker and my hour grows shorter.  I need to be home and haven't much time.  I leave my slow approach behind and hurry to another spot in homes of finding carp number 100.  However when I arrive there are no carp at this spot. 

It's time to return to the prairie schooner and go to my prairie home.  On the way back downstream, there is good chance for a carp and I send him the Carpola.  He sucks it right away and just like the previous carp he goes straight for the brush and tree roots.  Quickly trotting across the shallow channel to the sandbar, I try to heave him out and end up pulling the hook out of his grasp.  The carp that would have been number 100, was not. 

I carried the plastic chair a little further today.  This chair is heavier than it looks and I can only carry it a couple of hundred feet before tiring.  So, each time I go to this area I work it downstream a little further and eventually will make Well Springs, where I can take it up the hill.

On the trip back downstream, never did I think of the carp I lost that would have made 100.  My thoughts were on why that stretch of water, the one that always has carp, had none today.  In my fly-fishing life, this question and answer will always be a mystery.

A Long Morning Wade

A half-hour before sunup, I was tying on the Carpola Charlie aided by the canopy lights at the gas pumps. As I moistened the tippet and drew the knot tight I had a craving for a hot chocolate-coffee mix, so I quickly fetched one and headed for the creek.

I arrived at the south side of Well Springs just as the sun was breaking the eastern horizon. I knew very well that the creek would probably be quite off-colored since we received five inches of rain Wednesday. Sure enough, it was cloudy... more cloudy than I expected. It was tough seeing, but I could make out several images of carp so I tossed the Carpola to one across the way. We hooked up, but upon turning him the hook pulled out. Looking at the Carpola I noticed it was looking quite battle fatigued so I changed to the Carp Carrot.

In fly fishing for carp, the sun can be, at times, our best friend and at other times our worse enemy. This morning the sun was not a friend. If the cloudy water wasn't enough, the glare of the sun didn't help a bit. I left Well Springs and went to the Bend.

At the Bend, the water was even cloudier because the carp were mudding the wide pool. I decided to cast blind and missed the first suck of a carp. Going upstream I found more carp and would miss the next two sucks also. Finally I hooked up with the second carp of the morning and once again the hook pulled out.

Further upstream I saw a pool of water that I just knew held carp. It also held Rock Bass... a lot of them, and I kept pulling the little dudes out one after another. The carp that were in this pool moved out with all the excitement going on. The perch and carp robbed me of a number of perfect opportunities to catch carp this morning. Although, I came to the creek to catch carp today, I also had another project in mind. I decided to go elsewhere.



Driving over to the north side of Well Springs, I parked in the parking lot of Flower Park. Here there is a ledge that's about six or eight feet above the water, so I decided to sit on that ledge and see if I could spot any carp. Sure enough, in the middle of this pool was one big bad boy. Now, I knew if I hooked that fish it would require me to jump off that ledge into the creek. But, I just couldn't stand it, so I showed the carp the carrot and he sucked it up right away. And yes... I hollered "Geronimo" as I jumped from the ledge, hoping I wouldn't come away with a sprained ankle or worse.



I waded across to the other side where I could beach the creature, and he turned out to be a dandy sized carp. Now, it was time to start the long wade because my plans were to wade all the way to the Wynnewood Street bridge, which is about a mile.

I fished the big pool at Well Springs, but it was cloudier than most other pools. Continuing upstream, I waded a fairly long stretch of really tight and murky water with few opportunities to fish.





I make it to the boulders at Shipwreck and see a few carp, but due to the glare it's almost impossible to sight fish these creatures. I leave the boulders with no fish. Charlie has caught fish here, but I have yet to capture one.



Working my way under the Broadway bridge, I get another chance for a carp and we hook-up, but once again the Carrot pulls out. Making it to the pool where Charlie caught his nice carp on camera the other day, the perch keep robbing me of opportunities for carp.



Even the smallmouth get in on the action of intercepting flies.



I head for the area Charlie and I call the Courtyard, and this stretch of water is actually muddy. Spotting one carp in the shallows, I toss the Carrot one more time and he takes it. The dog-gone hook pulls out once again and sails past me into a tree. I just broke the darn thing off after having lost four fish to the particular fly. I have no idea why this particular fly or hook would not hold fish today.

It was time to call it a morning and I had covered a lot of water for one carp to hand. However, I said earlier I had another project in mind and I'll share that in the next posting.

The Carp Crusades - In Becoming A Canvas For Carp

Monday

Fly fishing for carp has been an "iffy" thing so far this week particularly with the rain we received last Sunday. I figured the rain was enough to murk the creek and sure enough, Mother Hole and the Well Springs were affected immediately.

However, Charlie has dedicated a lot of time to the rain and it's effect on the creek and he knows that some rain can actually have a clearing effect on Rock Creek, particularly at his pasture. So on Monday... Charlie went a-fishin'.

For Charlie, Monday was what we call a day-maker. He hooked up, battled with, and defeated one superb twenty-six inch carp using a white zonker pattern. After that twenty minute battle Charlie knew he was done. He left the creek a completely satisfied and contented man. That's a day-maker.

Tuesday

It came even more rain on Monday and it was a hard rain so the creek was even more messed up. But, the amazing thing today was Rock Creek was actually trying to clear somewhat.

I didn't take a lunch hour, but did take my fifteen minute break to run down to the creek. No waders, no lanyard, no fly vest, just rod with fly and camera. Once on the creek, I spotted two nice carp tailing together and flipped the white cactus chenille bugger their direction. One carp was on it like a cruise missile on pre-set coordinates.





I beached the creature and took a picture, but when it came time to remove the hook from his upper mouth he started flip-flopping, throwing mud all over my white work-shirt like it was a canvas for some abstract splatter artist.

I'd spent less than ten minutes of my break on the creek, but suddenly realized I couldn't go back to the workplace with this shirt. So, the last five minutes of my break was a mad rush home to change shirts so nobody at the store would know I'd snuck out to go a-fishin'.

I do live a precarious life.