Calling It Quits

After exchanging with Charlie this afternoon... it's time to bring the Carp Crusades of 2010 to an end.  It's been one helluva ride.

We're not going to get anywhere near the goal that this ol' fool threw down at the carp.  A lot of excuses could be made, but none are.  There were just many things not considered when it was suggested to Charlie we go for 250 before the end of the year.

Never did I consider that there would be downtime and indeed there was.  Charlie had travels to make, and then I pretty much was immobile with vehicle repair for three or four days.  Then... Charlie returns home and trots down to Rock Creek and captures three carp with ease.  Looked like it was all going to plan!  But... never did Charlie or I dream he would return to the hospital for the one of the things we were hoping to avoid with the Carp Crusade. 

Things happen, life turns, and sometimes we have to live life on life terms.  Now... Charlie is going to go on further travels.  In addition, I totally miscalculated the sun this time of year, and quite truthfully we are fishing in shade most of the day. 

Most importantly... the one thing that escaped my throw-down was the call of Lady Blue.  Hell... it's trout season... and you know we have to be there, with the pretty little lady that holds the pretty fish. 

There was a hint in the exchange today that Merc might be coming soon, and, if so, there will most likely be a trio of Lady Blue love struck fly fishers... wading the pleasures she offers time after time. 

Actually, I am relieved that we've decided to give the carp a rest.  We wore them out this spring and summer, and a much-needed-rest... the carp do need.  Besides, there's a book to write.

The book is already written for all purposes.  We just need to put it all together.  When and once we do, we think readers will discover, quite early in the read, that this is a book that's not just about fly fishing for carp, but a book about a fly fishing friendship. 

The book will be revealing and personal.  Readers will learn of the bentwood chair in the dim lit room.  The prose will shout of the doubt, the hope, jubilation, set-backs, and lastly the friendship that fly fishing can bring.

Winter is a good time for writing... and a good time to spend on the river Blue.

Rescue And Recovery

                                        

My morning on Rock Creek would start early and what a pretty morning it was.  I come to the creek today with three things in mind.  First, I must rescue two of my flies from a fate that is not theirs to be.  Secondly, I want to recover that chair I've been slowly carrying down the creek, and lastly, I'm looking for carp number 100.

First order of business are the two Carpola Charlies.  Above a bank on Rock Creek, dangling and glistening in the sun, are two Carpola Charlies just a matter of inches apart.  With two flies hanging in such close proximity to one another reveals that this fly fisher doesn't always remember prior or past mistakes.  You would think when I hung the first fly I would have made a mental note.  I did not evidently. 

I must free my flies, for their destiny is not to serve as a garnish or embellishment for a twisted, gnarly grapevine that has ensnared itself around a tree limb. 

The problem is the flies are about twenty feet in the air so a plan has to be hatched.  As any good cowboy would do, I grab my lariat - a hand-made lariat I've had for about fifteen years.  Next, I fetch one of Miss Carol's garden utensils that will make a dandy grappling hook.  Then, I create the handy dandy extended pruners to cut the flies loose if need be.  My plan is to grapple-hook the tree limb pulling it down as far as possible, tie off the rope, and then with the extended pruner, cut the vine freeing my flies from the manacles of these tentacles that currently have the Carpola Charlies incarcerated.

                                           

It took at least ten tries, but finally the grappling hook captured the Carpola Charlies black and olive and it came tumbling to the ground with a small limb attached.  Now, it was time to go after the remaining man.

                                     

Another twenty or so tries and finally the grasp of the hooks found the tree limb and the rope wrapped around.  There would be no escaping for the vine or limb and with a hard tug the olive and orange was freed.

Intimate Rock Creek

Rescue complete, it was time to go into recovery mode.  Going downstream a good ways, I walked up to the last point I carried that chair.  Slowly I've been carrying it downstream and only have about two-hundred yards left before I can carry it out at Well Springs.  With an early start and somewhat cool weather, I saw no better time than this morning to complete the task.  On my way back downstream I encountered another chair stuck in the mud, plus remnants of yet another chair.  I grabbed the remnants, but will have to make plans to get the other chair out.  Carrying the chair up the hill at Well Springs, the recovery was complete. 

                                     

Carp number 100 escaped me the other day and this morning I am looking for redemption. I'll be honest with you, the carp that would take me to triple digits did not come easily.  I snuck-up on carp, stalked carp, and stealth was the keyword of the day.  I fished carp that weren't interested, mildly interested and a couple I would've bet my last dollar were genuinely interested.  I showed them the Backstabber, but they just looked at it and swam away.  It was the same with the olive and black Carpola, and the black and orange Carpola.  At the Courtyard there weren't a whole lot of carp to stalk, but the ones I did... eluded me.

I sit down on a rock to ask myself what I was doing wrong?  But, perhaps it wasn't a case of what I was doing wrong, but rather a case of what would Charlie do?  Knowing Charlie well enough, I'm certain he would go to a white pattern or the San Juan Worm, and so this would be my next plan of action.  However, I wanted to try the olive and orange Carpola first, and the only one I had was the one just rescued from that grapevine ensnared tree limb.  I tied it on and go downstream.

At Mother Hole the water was completely milky or muddy, but I could see some shadows and therefore I cast to shadows.  Suddenly something caught my eye upstream.  I could tell it was a carp feeding in the shallows, but the problem was all the trees next to the water.  There were several trees and the limbs were only five feet above the surface.  I pursued this fish anyhow, and when I arrived at his grazing spot I knew this was going to be difficult.  A forward roll or flip cast was out of the question.  The only way to cast to this fish was with a back-handed side arm flip cast.  I took the rod in my left hand and worked it around the tree trunk where I took it with my right hand.  Dropping the fly in the water I made my first attempt at this difficult cast and blew it big time.  My second attempt was much better and the fly landed behind the carp's shoulder.  The plop of the fly was enough to make him turn and when he saw the fly he was on it.  Carp number 100 was a fascinating looking Mirror.   

                                      

Getting back to the subject of recovery, I was telling my boss the other day that I thought when I caught carp number 101, I would quit fly fishing for carp for the rest of this year.  As he laughed, I looked at him with a raised eyebrow and my own amusement as to his lack of confidence in my self-control.  Then he said, "You won't quit Shrader... I'll bet you two cases of beer that you won't quit."  Again, with the same raised eyebrow, I replied, "Why would you make a bet that is so easy for me to win - I just won't fish anymore after 101."  With an even louder laugh and more confident air about him, he countered with, "That's just it Shrader, you won't quit because you can't quit.  I know you too well!"  Then he extended his hand to seal the bet, and for the life of me I could not make that bet.  I knew he was right.

Early into the carp crusades I knew I was addicted.  Undoubtedly, I've been addicted to the Rainbow's and Blue River for years, but this addiction to carp on the fly is much more powerful.  I guess there could come the day that I can quit, but at best I will still be an addict - living my life in recovery. 

My goodness - I couldn't make that bet, and I could really use two cases of beer.

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The Carp Crusades - Friday's Fish

I knew there was something I was forgetting this morning heading out the door to work. My plan for the day was to work until about 2:30 p.m. then hit the creek for just a short while... long enough to look for carp number thirty in the Carp Crusades.

After work gearing up at the creek I realized what I'd forgotten... the camera. But that was okay because I've taken plenty of pictures so far and wasn't planning on spending much time on the creek today at all.

The only reason I'm posting this is for a record of memory since mine seems to fail me quite often these days. I require some kind of record to the events to call back on in future months and years.

Standing in the creek I saw a foursome of slow cruisers coming upstream. If they'd been road rage cruisers I wouldn't have even wasted time on them because it is time wasted. When they got within twenty feet or so I started casting trying to judge their distance and speed. My casts were falling short so I waited until they were closer. When they were about eight feet out a cast landed right in front of the two lead carp but it was too close to them and too far from the carp nearest the far bank. However, the San Juan worm ball did attract the attention of the tailing carp in the formation and he actually made a dead run for the fly and a sudden suck. Hook-set!

I've only had a couple of carp actually make a run for the fly and this fellow was one of them. He wasn't all that big of a carp... maybe five pounds, but he was one of the toughest gladiators I've yet to do battle with. Finally landed him and we said our greetings and so-longs.

Carp number thirty came to reality today. I push on for the ultimate goal of carp number fifty in the Carp Crusades.

The Carp Crusades - A Mixed Weekend

Saturday

Charlie and I both fished for the carpes on Saturday and I guess you could say it was a banner day for the both of us.

For me the satisfaction came in the success of the white colored aquatic worm named The Great White Hope. This fly captured four carp with ease. One note worth mentioning is that all four carp were taken in shallow water and three of the four were taken with an upstream cast.

Charlie was down in his pasture on Saturday and he battled carp using crawdad, San Juan Wormballs, and the Clouser.

He showed me some pictures today of the fish he battled yesterday and they were some very nice, and I do mean... very nice fish. Hopefully he can get the pictures uploaded soon and we can share them.

Here are some of Saturday's catches.

Sunday

What a difference twenty-four hours can make sometimes.

On Sunday, Charlie and I met at the Pasture parking area and begin our carp adventure for the day. A park ranger noticed our fly rods so he stopped and started a conversation about fly angling. Seems like the young man is from Arkansas and quite familiar with fly fishing and the White River system. He told us he never dreamed of fly fishing at Rock Creek and had never heard of Blue River. Think Charlie and I probably hooked him to picking up the fly rod while he's here on the Prairie Ocean.

Charlie has just got lined up when a lady came screeching into the parking area, jumped out of her car and said, "I want to talk to that man (pointing at Charlie). The lady had a request from her grandson in the back seat of the car and it seems he wanted to talk with Santa Claus before Santa went a fly-fishing. So Charlie put on his best Santa Claus imitation (which he does regularly I found out) and entertained the youngster.





Guess the young fellar wasn't all that sure about seeing Santa up so close and personal after all.

On the water today things seemed much different from yesterday Charlie told me. There seemed to be few carp to really target and of the few we seen they were mainly cruisers. I would hook up with one in quick order but quick-released that fish. Then Charlie hooked up with one and oh boy this is what I've been waiting for because I have my camera with me. I get one picture of Charlie battling the beast but then... his fly pulls out.

Shortly thereafter, Charlie hollers again and I grab my camera and rush upstream. Sure enough he has another dandy on and as I raise my camera... the tippet tie gives.

This would prove to be pretty much the extent of our hooking success on Sunday. Larry Compton joined us and Larry, like us, was finding the same... which was few carp to target.

Matters got worse for me however. Charlie had lost his Great White Hope that attracted one of the two carps so I said, "Hey, I've got another right here in this fly...ba, ba, ba, box?" The fly box dedicated with flies for carp... all fifty or so flies... was no longer on my person. The only place I could've lost that fly box was right where I was standing because I had just tied on a fly from this box a few minutes earlier. We looked, and looked again, but no cigar.

Oh well... more vise time I guess.

So, on Sunday the catching wasn't all that good but the friendship was. Larry and I stopped by Charlie's Inn and had a good cold beer and some delightful conversation.

The crusades will continue shortly.

The Carp Crusades - On Hold

The rain of this past Saturday and Sunday turned the Rock Creek current of the Prairie Ocean into a beefy bouillon like soup.

Today, both Charlie and I thought maybe... just maybe, there was a chance we would find some clearing water in the broth and we could fish for the Prairie Ocean Bonefish. However... we should have just stayed home.

Charlie, went to his pasture and the Mother Hole was calling me. It wasn't to be though. There was some clearing at the fringes but the creek is still pretty much chocolate colored. At Mother Hole however, there were some feeding carp in shallow fast water. They were munching on dried-up tree blossoms. Not having anything close to imitating their present affection I tied on a white antron thing-a-ma-jiggy. My mere presence in the water put the feeding carp down right off the bat.

Charlie has acquired a rather practical and highly functional ten foot rod. It's a Grey, made by Hardy and yes it is their lower line but it casts like a charm. Charlie let me take it for a test drive this past Monday and I ran it through a scenario of casting situations. Talk about roll casting! Lays out as smooth as a baby's butt. Distance... geezzz, it will sail a mile. I love his new rod.

Charlie has a technique in mind with his new rod and it involves reach casting, or perhaps leader casting, and high-sticking. I think his technique is going to prove itself shortly... as soon as the dang creek clears up.

So, today was not to be, but maybe by Friday or Saturday we can get back on the crusade.

The Carp Crusades - The Smell Test

After two nights of Neosporin and Vaseline laden hands encased in surgical gloves, the hands felt good enough today to continue the Carp Crusades.

Today, the water directly below the Vendome Wellspring was selected. As the last outing would so prove, I would once again arrive at a creek serving as a vessel for an armada of tassels, being quite off-colored and blurred, and suddenly the sun would decide to step aside to mostly cloudy skies. None of these factors are good for carp crusading.

If we fast forward to the ending of the hour long trip I can tell you that two more carp were battled today. However, this report should also disclose that it was the carp of this prairie ocean current known as Rock Creek that actually won the day's overall field of battle.

For the most part, fly-fishing for carp still remains ambiguous to me. So many unanswered or understood questions remain. But like today... it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure most things out.

The fly that captured both carp warriors battled today was a chartreuse and white Clouser with a red throat. But... I must tell you that both carp were captured with a plop and drop presentation and within ten seconds both had taken notice and were on the fly. The reason I'm pointing this out... is why the rest of the afternoon went as it did.





It would be easy to say with the recent success of the Clouser that this is indeed the fly to use in battling carp. But once again remember... the two carp were taken by surprise or as I would like to think attraction. But it was the two dozen or so refusals with the Clouser that was so very perplexing. And, it was within the refusals that the answer lied. My casts would be, for the most part, two feet or better, in front of the targeted carp. Letting the fly sink, a twitch would be employed to position said fly and then allowed to settle to the bottom. Time after time, I watched carp slowly nose to the fly and within an inch... maybe two... suddenly jolt and turn away. This became a significant note to record.

The carp whipped my ass today... and that's all there is to it.

Leaving the water in defeat I found the events of the afternoon playing over and over in my head... and that's when it came to me.

Before leaving the bunkhouse today, I sprayed my neck and hands with insect repellent. With my hands I wiped my face thoroughly because those bull gnats encountered on Saturday were simply too much. Bull gnats are some mean little s.o.b.'s! Indeed I did wash my hands at the bunkhouse before leaving but there still existed a noticeable scent.

At the current, I took off the crawdad pattern I had tied on from a previous outing and out of the fly box plucked the Clouser with scented hand; tied it on with scented hand; and presented it with scented hand.

Could've, would've, should've. Yep... I could've washed my hands in creek mud, along with the selected Clouser, upon arriving at the bank. I would've done exactly so... if the head wasn't up the ass. And lastly, I should've... end of story.

So far in the early learning stages of battling carp with fur and feather, there have been a number of articles read that mention the innate ability of the carp's olfactory senses.

After today... I believe this incredible sense of the carp has to be so true. Use what nature offers you at hand. Wash your hands and flies in the skin of the waterway you're fishing.