Trash Day

Last Saturday the waders went on... but a fly rod was not in hand.  Instead, two commercial sized 60 gallon trash bags were in tow. 

Working on an upstream area of Rock Creek, an area that has been previously mentioned in Trashless Wild posts, it took about fifteen minutes to fill the first bag.  Most of the trash that is found on Rock Creek still seems to be coming from the same area. 

Although it is disheartening to continually find mounting piles of trash after previous trash recovering efforts, I remain determined to make Rock Creek one of the cleanest little creeks in Oklahoma. 


The pile of trash pictured above was recovered in an area that measured maybe 10' by 10'.  Unfortunately, not all the trash could be recovered because it was strewn down a steep hill and I had old shoes on without any grips attached.


After the first bag was filled, another stretch of water was explored.  The second area was within the boundaries of the National Park System, and I'll have to say it was pleasantly void of trash.  There were only a few plastic bottles and Styrofoam cups recovered.  A lot of plastic bags hung in the tree limbs and all of those were removed.  The people at Chickasaw National Recreation Area do a good job in policing the area. 

One more trip will be made to reclaim the trash from the troubled area that has already been cleaned several times.  After that, it's time for a letter of diplomacy asking for help in remedying the problem. 

Guess I better brush up on diplomatic discourse. 

Dissecting The South Wilderness

A goal this season is to gain a better understanding of the northern wilderness area of the river Blue.  To do that, however, will require outings where most of the day can be dedicated.  This may prove to be rare occasions early in the season.

Another goal is to dissect the south wilderness, further exploring the complexities of this almost magical and at times mystical place.  If there is such a thing as perfect water... then it has to be here in the south wilderness. 

Departure is late today.  Finally on the road into the south, the beaten path is familiar.  The walk is slower these days - the stride shorter.  Labored breath, tiredness comes quickly, but a refreshing tiredness it is. Along the main road there is a trail.  If taken, this trail will lead the angler past inviting water that promises intimacy.  The water in this area, known as the Scattters, plays an ensemble of nature's music that leads to a number of crescendos as travel continues.  Sometimes... it's quite nice to just sit on a rock... and listen.  

This trail of beauty leads back to the beaten path.  However, the well-traveled road is required for only a short distance.  A patch of water that begs for understanding is near, and it is here, today, that the dissecting for understanding begins. 

A bugger is plucked from his nest.  Eye threaded.

    One twist, two twist, three twist, four.

    To make for sure, one twist more.

    Through one loop then the other,

    Tippet on bend for the brother,

    Bugger and Zug will sail together,

    Seamen of the proud fur and feather.

First cast, a bow to hand.  Lance removed, fish slips back to his watery den.  Second cast, bow to hand.  Third cast... bow wins the battle.  No matter where the flies sail today, they seem to find fish.  Darker, deeper, emerald colored pockets are the keys. 



This patch of water is dissected from bottom to top, from near bank to far.  Catching is almost too easy.  Amazing the number of fish that still exist, considering the masses that ascended on the river this past week. 



The wind is hard today. Time is short, for the prairie home beckons. The outing is done, the day is made. Thanks given, river left for another day.

A Deer Of A Lifetime

Last Saturday was opening day of gun season for the whitetail deer in Oklahoma.  My buddy Curt was at his hunting station, perched up in his stand, waiting for that "special" buck to come along.  As opening day ended, Curt had passed on all the deer that came his way.  I guess that's how it is with deer hunting.

I never learned to hunt and it's been one of my biggest regrets in life.  My family were anglers and that was our concentration - we fished a lot.  We didn't hunt, so I never learned how to hunt.

Curt made me privy to his hunting station, and even though I know little about hunting, I could tell it was a well thought out creation.  There was clearing where clearing was needed, a good fringe of woodland where woodland was needed, good entrance points and Curt's stand reminded me of a cat birds seat. 

It's now been a week since opening day and Curt is still passing on the deer because he knows there's a big one on his plot.  Sure hope Curt remembers those big ones got that way because they're darn smart.

Opening day was a different story for Curt's dad Mark, and it was also a different story for Curt's daughter Kristen. 

Mark Tully with his prize buck.

Mark Tully took what might be considered a deer of a hunter's lifetime on opening day.  This buck had 23 points, not counting the two broken off, and the base of the antlers measured 6 1/4 inches.  Mark takes his trophy this week for scoring under the Cy Curtis award program in Oklahoma. 

Kristen Tully - youth in hunting carrying on with the heritage.

On the same day, while Curt was passing on deer, his young daughter Kristen also took a buck.  Seems like there was success on both ends of Curt's life... while he was passing on deer. 

Did I mention Curt passed on deer?

But you know... I think there's going to be a rest of the story ending before Curt gets through hunting.  I can hardly wait to see the pictures.

Whitetail deer hunting in Oklahoma is nothing short of a remarkable success story.  In 1917 there was less than 500 whitetail deer in Oklahoma.  In 1943 the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife begin their deer restoration program by trapping and transplanting just 22 deer. Today... the estimated deer population of Oklahoma is over 450,000.

The success of Oklahoma's thriving whitetail deer is attributable to land use practices and increased habitat conservation.  These two efforts created a perfect environment for the whitetail to survive and propagate. 

I wish I did know how to hunt because it just seems enjoyable and fulfilling.  But, I'm growing old in the muzzle and figure they don't need an "old" rookie in the woods.  On the other hand, it's also been said, "It's never too late to learn."



In Breaking With Tradition

Image via Wikipedia

For the last ten trout seasons, Thanksgiving afternoon has been spent on the river Blue.  This year I'll have to break this tradition because I simply can't get there. 

Our vehicular problems continue to exist, and I'm beginning to believe finding a good mechanic is like searching for an honest politician - they could be rare. 

My plan B today was to pursue carp by fly on the Rock Creek current of the Prairie Ocean, but Mother Nature has decided else wise.  There has been a steady cold rain - cold enough to form icicles on the outstretched arms of these disrobing trees of autumn.

So, this Thanksgiving I will break from my tradition, stay at the prairie home, and perhaps tie some flies.  Even though fishing is tugging at me something fierce today and I can't go, I am still quite thankful for the many blessings I have in life.

From a fly fishing point I am the most thankful for the river Blue and the good amount of water that still flows her course.  The water merchants have yet been able to touch her.  I am thankful for the wonderful carp of Rock Creek that Charlie and I have discovered and enjoy immensely.  I am most thankful for the many friendships that fly fishing has brought me on the water and through common interest.  I am most thankful for the friendship Charlie and I have struck this past spring, summer, and fall - a friendship that will last as long as we do.  And lastly I am thankful for a good enough health that still allows me to hike good distances, and navigate the water in pursuit of fish, in hopes of understanding the relationship between man and creature. 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone... and good fishing.

Treasures Under The Leaves

Blanket of leaves make a difficult jigsaw puzzle.

The last two days trying to carp by fly have been most difficult.  Right now, I think taking carp by fly is the most difficult it's ever been.  Conditions are simply against us whether it be the wind creating a constant hard riffle, the gray skies decreasing visibility, the lowering water level, or the jigsaw puzzle patches of leaves the carp hide under.  I'm not looking for excuses - we should be able to adapt.  However, I haven't figured it out yet and Charlie may have to take up my slack once he gets back.

Yesterday I fished for three hours covering a lot of water, but come home empty handed.  I cast to probably fifteen carp yesterday, but the riffle prevented me from sight fishing these creatures.  I found carp under the blankets, but getting the fly through that weave was next to impossible.

Today, I took a beer with me and decided to gingerly sip my beer and wait for the carp to appear from underneath the blanket of leaves.  About twenty-five foot across the water, one carp emerged from the fringes of the blanket and I rolled a Backstabber to him.  He was slow in coming to the fly... but he ate it.

Backstabber fly took this carp.

43 carp needed to reach our goal.

Reaching our goal of 250 is looking to get more and more difficult.  As I noted a couple of posts ago, Charlie is leaving for a week and at my place we have a vehicle down.  No... now we have two vehicles down and we are a two vehicle family.  I'm thinking we must have got into a bad batch of petro somewhere.  The schooner goes to the shop tomorrow morning and there goes my mobility. 

I so badly wanted to go to the river Blue this weekend, but just couldn't get there. 

Think I'll go look for a beater pickup so at least I can get to the water.

The Sweet Advantages Of Custom Furled Leaders

There are some distinct advantages in using custom furled leaders compared to standard mono leaders.  Recently, I received an order of custom leaders from Robin Rhyne of McKinney, Texas (http://www.robinsleaders.com/ ).  I couldn't wait to get them affixed on my fly lines.  Rigged one up for trout on the river Blue, and the other will be used for those Prairie Ocean Bonefish on Rock Creek.

What are some of the advantages?  How about consistent turnover of the leader.  With these furled leaders you will instantly notice how your leader, tippet, will lay out gently over the water. 

Another advantage is the way furled leaders perform in casting into strong winds.  They are sturdy enough to drive the fly, with authority, to the intended target. 

Ever have a surprise strike and a trout take the fly off the tippet?  Yeah... it happens.  But, Robin's furled leaders are like shock absorbers and they'll prevent losing the fly without a chance at the fight. 

Bye-bye tailing loops.  I've always had a terrible time with tailing loops.  Most say it's because I have too much power on the forward stroke and they're probably right.  However, I've noticed when using one of these four foot mono leaders with four foot of tippet attached... my tailing loops go away.  I attribute this success to the sturdiness of the furled leader - it simply drives and lays the tippet out without a power failure. 

Last there is the long run cost.  Furled leaders may cost a little more up front, but they last me three or four times longer than mono leaders and therefore the economics is in furled leaders. 

Harvest

Before leaving my prairie home this morning, Miss Carol asked me for two things.  She requested a Creme Danish from Scotty's, and trout from the river Blue. 

I brought her both.

Carol takes great delight in the taste of trout, so I don't mind bringing her a limit every great once in a while.  I harvest trout only a couple of times during the season - usually at the beginning and then as the season ends.  Of course, we have to keep the fish if we participate in a trout derby. 

Friday morning brought a bite with it.  For most of the morning the sun hid behind a thick haze and the wind was up and steady.  The cold breath of the northern Gods were more than enough to send a shiver down my neck and bring numbness to my hands.

Fishing only one pool of water, Coyote Pass, time was fairly short on the river Blue today.  While at Coyote Pass, completely new pools of water were found and they seemed fairly rich with bows.  The new-size bows are nice - averaging twelve or thirteen inches.  I think everyone will really enjoy these fish.

The fly of the day was a beadhead Hare's Ear soft hackle.

After catching Miss Carol's limit, I give thanks and leave the river.

On the way out, I stop and visit with Matt for a spell.  We talked about pheasant hunting, fly-tying, trout fishing, and the catch and release area.  Matt shared with me what a popular destination the catch and release has become and it's favor is ever-growing.

I make a quick trip to Tishomingo to take care of some business and then it's back to my prairie home.

TROUT BY MORNING, CARP BY AFTERNOON.

Upon arriving at the bunkhouse, I first take care of the trout.  Then it's time to head to the Rock Creek current in search of the prairie ocean bonefish... the wonderful carp. 

Charlie caught two carp yesterday and promises pictures soon.  Both of his carp were taken on an yellow and brown Carpola Charlie.  His two prizes brought us to needing just 46 more to make our goal of 250 by the end of the year. 

Using the Carpola Charlie in olive and yellow, I quickly capture two carp and that brings us to only needing 44 more carp with 41 calendar days left.  Getting the 44 we need may sound like an easy task, but next week looks to slow our effort down.

Charlie is going to be gone for a week - he flies out this Sunday.  Next week is Thanksgiving week at the store, which means I'm going to be extra busy, spending extra time at the store.  Plus, our little brown pony isn't running well and has to go in the shop, which means Miss Carol and I will be sharing the Prairie Schooner. 

I may find myself hiking to the creek. 
 

The sun is hidden somewhere in this thick haze.

The Harvest

Rock Creek carp taken with Carpola Charlie

Valiant fighters - Prairie Ocean Bonefish

Which One Wins

On the Rock Creek current

of the Prairie Ocean wide -
a place of inner peace,
ceasing of questions and doubt.
I come for a carp by fly.

The sun is unkind today,
ever-telling of my presence.
The wind is unkind today,
driven riffles blinding my view.
But, I come for a carp by fly.

Autmun's beauty is unkind today,
weaving a blanket of leaves.
A barrier from which I seek,
cover for that which alludes me.
But, I come for a carp by fly.

Squinting eyes, shaded, labored eyes,
intently looking for a hint.
The beasts are there I know,
oh, they see me... I sense it!
I come for you my friends.

The rains promised did come,
is Mother on my side?
For the creek still fades,
becoming shallow as gin.
But, still hope for a carp by fly.

Hunting, stalking,
looking for a chance.
Hunting, stalking,
hoping for a glimpse.
A glimpse of hope today.

Under a blanket, carp are there,
gently feeding, taking feast.
The stealth is good,
unknown to beasts.
My friends we have met.

Through a blanket tear,
the fly splits the carp.
Both come quickly,
for a prize to win.
Only one can come to me.

One carp wins the offering,
as he becomes mine.
One carp looses the offering,
as he is not mine.
Which one wins?