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'.

The Carp Crusades - Back In The Saddle

With a little help from nature, Charlie and I should be back in the saddle this weekend riding on the great carp trail of Rock Creek. We'll have our lariats in hand... ready to lasso the herding and sometimes stampeding carp. So hopefully, nature will let us cowboy-up, saddle-up, and ride once again in the crusades.

Today, I had pretty much set my mind to not go to the creek since it's been so compromised of late, not to mention this morning's rains. However, a ten o'clock telegram from Charlie reporting the rains had no effect and the creek continued to clear, changed my mind about fishing.

When I got to the creek it was noticeable that the fringes had cleared quite a bit but the main part of the creek, at least for me, was not fish-able remaining a milky color. But it didn't take long to turn my attention to the grazing beasts just upstream in the shallows and riffles, and these creatures were having quite the feast on tree blossoms.

Early on in describing surface feeding carp I caught myself, when talking with Charlie, referring to them as risers but carp really don't rise like trout do. Surface feeding carp, or slurpers as I call them, stay near the surface all the time and simply raise their bugle shaped mouths through the film and slurp. If you listen closely you actually hear the slurp sound they make. Across the big pond in England and Europe they call them cloopers.

To fish the shallows and riffles you almost have to be on the opposite side of the creek which requires you to make a painfully slow and methodical wade so you don't set off any miniature tsunami's which I assure you will put the carp down and away quickly.

The slow wade was made and as I got into position to make a cast there was a tremendous splash just upstream. I knew it wasn't a fish and upon looking behind me and up at the football bleachers there stood the perpetrator. A schoolkid had tossed a boulder the size of a quart cooking pan into the creek trying to hit one of those carp. Of course the carp scattered lickety-split. I decided to hold steady and see if some would come back.

Yesterday, fishing this same spot it was the same situation with slurpers grazing like no tomorrow. I already had a San Juan Wormball tied on so I cast it into the thick of them and one jumped on it like a duck on a June Bug. I got a good hookset and as I told Charlie it seemed like a rather good-sized carp. The battle was short lived and I lost another San Juan to another tippet break.

Today, I spotted that carp and it turns out he wasn't all that big to begin with... maybe four pounds and he was swimming around with that San Juan in the upper corner of his mouth. Really wanted to hook him again today to get that fly back but it was no dice.

Having a heck of a time seeing anything I concentrated on the water directly in front of me and managed to see the shadows of the carp. A toss of the San Juan to a shadow and leading the carp into shallower water I saw the suck and set the hook. He wasn't a big fish, about two pounds, but what a fighter he proved to be, making the old Okuma sing like a barber shop tenor. It was a lot of fun.



Tied a new pattern last night and hope to use it this weekend. Since both the Clouser and Backstabber have battled carp, I married the two taking elements of both and blending them together. We'll see if carp are interested in this pattern I call the Cloustabber.



The month of May is only a week away and I predict it's going to be one heck of a rodeo for two fly-fishers cowboying for carp.

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.

The Carp Crusades - Crawdads, Clousers, and Fatality

Good times, bad times. No, not the Led Zeppelin song but the real deal. We've all heard of them, and we've all probably had one or two along the way. Today, I had one.

Actually, it was all good until carp number five came along. Trying to get a picture of this freight train in the water, I, of course had one hand on the rod, and, Miss Carol's camera in the other. I snapped the picture and as soon as I did, ole freight train decided to go for another run. Most certainly, I thought I'd slid the camera back inside my waders, as done hundred times before, but when that ker-plop sound resonated down the creek... it was uh-oh time. Miss Carol's camera expired today in a freakish accident on Rock Creek... an untimely demise for sure.

Upon releasing the fish I was done fishing and went to get a beer that I would drink in the park while trying to come up with an approach in informing Carol of the death. A plan was born, and with a belly full of courage I went home to inform my love I thought it time she have a brand new camera... since hers was so terribly out-dated. Carol saw through me like water runs through a landing net. "You dropped the camera in the creek, didn't you." she asked.

Thirty minutes later at Wal-Mart, looking at new cameras, I slid over to the photo processor and presented the saved memory stick from the deceased, to at least get a record of today's fish. Of course the clerk on duty heard the story of today's event, and the good chap suggested we wait twenty-four hours before acquiring a new camera because there stands a good chance the deceased might actually not be deceased at all... just in shock. In other words, the camera might actually dry and work again. I hope that young man is correct, because it will save me a Franklin plus heavy change.



The good part of today was very good. Actually, I went a-fishin' twice. On the lunch hour I hopped down to the creek to fish the area Charlie and I have been exploring the last couple of days or so. In the last two outings, my leader had been effectively... no, completely destroyed by close encounters of the carp kind. I decided to try one of Robin Rhynes furled leaders that I've had for years but never used. The only concerns with using a furled thread leader is water spray from the thread when these creatures are spooky enough. The second concern was the bulk of the leader and color. But... I looped it on anyhow, and added a four foot section of tippet which now made by leader system twelve foot long.

For the first thirty minutes of my lunch hour, all I did was spook fish. As I was spooking fish, Charlie shows up and I see him scouting along the bank. I want Charlie to fish but it seems he has other things to attend to. However, he keeps scouting and then starts spotting for me, but I still continue to spook fish. Finally, I see a patch of water located below some overhanging branches. The water is a mixture of shade with smaller patches of sunlit soup. I cast the crawdad into one patch of light and then see the pale yellow mouth of a carp suck it up.

It was a nice carp... probably about twenty-two inches long. At this point the lunch hour had been expended; plus more; I was fifteen minutes late getting back to work.

Getting back to work it didn't take long to catch up. The food business today seemed like a dead-zone, so my long duration presence wasn't required and I found myself back on the creek within an hour and half.

The main reason I wanted to go back was because I didn't get to try a Clouser pattern on the lunch hour. The first cast of this second go-around still presented the crawdad pattern of earlier... and it captured one small carp about two pounds.

Then the Clouser went on... a black and white with blue flash Clouser, a fly the carp could not get enough of.

Before leaving for the day, I had battled five more carp but one didn't count because he was a foul-hook. Honestly I don't know how that fish was foul-hooked because I saw him swim to the fly, suck the fly, turn and then I set. Guess I pulled it straight out of his mouth but again he didn't count.

In using the Clouser, if they didn't take notice on the plop and drop, I would start to slowly twitch the fly back to me on the bottom. These carp seem hungry because they would come to the fly on the twitch and the hook-set would follow.

Today was the best day I've had in the carp crusades and one note on Robin's leader. Once it gets good and wet there is no spray and after today's results... I think it's going to stay on the ole carp rod for awhile.