Chapter 58 Day 92 - Trout Season

Conversations With Carp - Early Talks

The weather today was so gorgeous, no man in his right mind could have kept off the water if the opportunity presented itself. 

The temperatures were in the low sixties, which made it quite pleasant.  The wind was a little stiff however and when I got to the creek in an attempt to spot for carp I could easily see the chop on the creek.  That chop, along with the green tea stained water made spotting carp almost impossible this afternoon.

Choices were go back home or just stay on the creek for a good measure of time so I go downstream to a rock I fancy and take a seat.  There, I simply sit and unwind from the workday at the mercantile store.

The trash on the creek this year seems abundant and as I sit on that rock I couldn't keep my eyes off the plastic bags, Styrofoam cups, cans and bottles in and along the creek.  It was then I noticed something in the water and went to fetch it.  It turned out to be a 25 pound-weight bag that once held water purifying crystals.  The darn thing still had the handle on it and it would end up being a perfect vessel for me to put all the other trash in.  So, for the next ten or fifteen minutes I collected trash.

Then, it was time to go back to the prairie home, but before I did I wanted one more look at the pasture Charlie and I call "Honey Hole". 

Standing high on the bank at Honey Hole I strained to see any activity in the water.  Just about the time I was ready to give up I saw a flash and I knew that flash was from a carp.  So, I put the trash bag down and slid down the steep hill.  Now, when I say slid I mean slide, because once you get to going there is no stopping it seems.

Being level with the water I couldn't see squat and blind casting was the only option.  After six or eight blind casts I was striking out so the decision to make one more cast was made.  On the last cast I went downstream instead of up and after slowly stripping about three-fourths of my line in, I realized I was going to strike out completely.

But then, there was a sudden pressure and with  a side sweep hookset, today's conversation with carp began.

Gosh, I could easily tell how rusty I am in fighting carp.  This fish wasn't big by no means but ever so feisty.  I had tied an olive and yellow Carpolo Charlie fly on and that was the ticket.  Getting the fish to the bank I could see it was a young Mirror carp.  I say young... it was at best three pounds, but oh what scrapers they are.  And, Mirror carp are simply fascinating looking.

I may just be me, but, Mirror carp seem to fight differently than the Common.  Mirror are quicker, faster, more acrobatic in their efforts to escape.  Common carp, especially the larger ones, just bulldog the daylights out of you and tow-boat you all over the creek. 

Today is the last day of January and this carp is the first carp I've ever caught in January.  I think this doesn't speak as a testament to my fishing ability, but, rather to the weird unseasonable weather we are having this winter. 

Hopefully, the carp will become quite active soon and more conversations will be struck.

  



Chapter 58 Day 91 - Trout Season

Torn Between Trout And Carp

As the sun warmed the prairie land this afternoon, I couldn't help but think of my outing on Blue River this past Saturday.  Hiking into the wilderness at Blue on Saturday morning I knew full well I would find a muddy chocolate milk-like river.  Still, the fish were there and fish were caught.

On the way in, it was easy to tell the wind was from the west and I was reminded of what Walton wrote, "Wind from the west, fish bite the best."  Well, maybe.  I think, however, Walton should have put some footnotes with that summation such as (1) Unless the friggin' river is chocolate milk! 

It was all good though. 

Today, fellow caster of fur and feather, that Grizzly Adams of carp-by-fly addict Charlie was on Blue - fishing the trout.  He reported today that the river is trying to clear and is in better shape.  Sounds like Charlie did okay this afternoon capturing trout. 

Although he captured trout he reported the bait fishers on the bank were looking like forlorn souls not getting any bites at all.  That news does not bid well for my Wednesday outing where I am entertaining some... bait chunkers.  Yep, that's right... bait chunkers. 

I'll tell you more later.

Anyhow, today would have been a good day to be on the river Blue - just couldn't swing it. 

Instead, I spent some time on the vise and tied up a couple of trout flies and then switched to carp patterns for friend Charlie. 

I didn't get a lot of patterns tied today - a couple of Carpolo Charlies in different weights, a mega San Juan wormball in claret, a regular sized San Juan wormball in red, and a Carp Tease.  Tomorrow, I'll try and do some Crazy Charlies, Mysis Shrimp, and Clousers.  Yes... Clousers will capture carp. 

Later on will come the Carrots and Backstabbers and even more Carpolo Charlies in different color schemes, and good measures of all will be at Charlies' disposal.

Right now, the fly-tying desk is a total mess - an apocalypse of bou, rubber legs, dubbing, flash, and chenille, with material for trout flies such as pheasant tail and hare's mask - all laced together in no rhyming shape or fashion.  The desk is a disaster - a sweet disaster of possible opportunities.    

No, I'm not haunted by waters, I'm torn by species.  

Chapter 58 Trout Season - Day 90

Prepping For Carp By Fly Season

Staring through the picture window before daylight I saw ice crystals on the grass blades sparkle as they were illuminated by that miniature moon hanging on the utility pole.  It looked cold this morning.

Yet, the pretty young lass giving the morning weather forecast promised the cold would give way to unseasonably warm weather later toward the afternoon hours.  It was then I knew I would go to the creek to do some scouting for the grand and golden ones. 

Trying to plan my time on the creek today,  I knew that time would be short.  Granddaughter Brillee spent the night and a skating party was on her schedule for today, so managing my time would be essential. 

The mercantile store always beckons on Sunday morning so the schooner headed that direction.  As I approached the Rock Creek bridge in the center of town, there was a group of does gently taking their morning graze.  They seemed oblivious to the morning traffic and noise - impervious deer that somehow know they are safe within the real, but invisible boundaries of federal land.

With Rock Creek being only a block away from the mercantile store, this precious little water serves as a constant magnet on me.  At least a half-a-dozen times a day, I walk out on the back dock and look at the tree line that runs south along the creek - wishing I was there instead of where I am. 

There is an old dilapidated trail that runs the south course of the creek on the west side.  The trail is rough and potted, overgrown and abandoned.  Many a time I have taken that rough road to a lunch hour outing on Rock Creek. 

I wish this trail could be rehabilatated so it could serve as a welcomed avenue for the hiker, walker, jogger, and occassional fly angler.  The trail leads to the innards of the Chickasaw National Recreation Area. 

Making as short of order of work as I could, I arrive on Rock Creek to discover the same conditions as I found on Blue River yesterday.  The creek is mostly an off-color and blended water and is only clear along the fringes with the deeper pools having little visibility.  Spotting carp today was out of the question.

Although it would be difficult to see carp or any other living thing in the creek, trash was quite easy to see.  It seems the flash flood of November has washed a lot of unwanted crap into the creek. 

I guess if I truly looked for trash that was treasure, then this little dandy here would have been the treasure of today. 

This little jewel of a big wheel jeep most certainly belonged to a child somewhere upstream.  Most likely the toy was swept away by the flooding water that took place in November. 

Not far downstream I found another real jewel of a piece of crap in the creek.

Having my waders on, the tire was taken from the water and dry-docked on the beach where the federal maintenance workers can reclaim this trash.

While on the subject of trash in the creek, it was a couple of weeks ago I found a red barrel in the creek and not knowing exactly what it was I decided to do some checking before removing it.  However, when Charlie learned of the barrel he went to investigate himself and through careful deduction, much in the manner of Sherlock Holmes, Charlie ascertained it was a barrel from the football field.

Even though the trash barrel was three-fourths full of water, Charlie was able to heave it out of the creek and get it to dry-dock.  I followed Charlie later and moved it a little further up where maybe it can serve as a trash barrel for the families that frequent this part of the creek.

As far as spotting carp today, I went skunk.  Charlie seems worried that many of the carp are gone having been swept downstream.  I'm not quite as worried as he is and have seen this before during the winter months.  When I stop to think of the last several outings on Rock Creek, when looking for carp, I haven't seen a number of species including bass, catfish, and perch.  These creatures are simply wintered. 

At least I hope I right, for if I'm not it may be a very long carp-by-fly season this year. 

Tonight I will start on a measure of carp flies for Charlie, and once those are done I'll tie some for my use. 





Chapter 58 Day 89 - Trout Season

Of Beer And Brown Buggers

Sitting at the bunkhouse this morning I knew very well that the river Blue was off due to mid-week rain.  The reports had the river as running chocolate.  However, I'm not one for just sitting around, and therefore I pack the gear in the schooner. 

Besides, fly fishing is the only form of exercise I get and after a week of not getting on the water I was feeling  rather stoved.  Additionally, I was dying to try out the new cane walking/wading staff Charlie brought me last week. 

It was mid-morning when I arrived at the river and it wasn't long until I struck out on the trail into the wilderness.

I must tell you what a difference the cane walking/wading staff has already made in my fly fishing life.  Today, there would have been no way I could have waded the river without that cane.  There was zero visibility one foot past the bank. 

However, the most amazing thing about this cane staff is the difference it made in my hiking ability.  I would dare say it took 70% of the stress or effort off of my legs while hiking.  I've always been much stronger in my upper torso compared to the lower.  Today, I simply kept the cane in my predominant hand (right-handed) and when I come to one of those steep inclines I would simply bear down with my arm on the cane.  It was truly amazing.  It makes sense however with me having Popeye like arms - strong forearms, but not much mass elsewhere. 

Hiking today, thanks to the cane staff, was a breeze!  So, I'm putting all you young fly fishers on notice that I may be able to keep up with your young arses now! 

There are some things we own that a value can not be placed.  Just like that ol' dirty cowboy hat I wear, this cane staff from Charlie is already... priceless. 

Arriving at Coyote Pass, the reality of the river's condition set in as you can see from the short clip below.

Since the trek had been made there was no reason to simply turn around and hike back out.  Looking in the fly box the selection was rather easy. 

The brown bugger - that Duke of Marabou Brown was plucked from the slot and quickly commissioned for duty on the high brown sea in front of me.

With a roll cast of twenty, maybe twenty-five feet the brown one was sent on his maiden voyage of the morning. 

And how did he fare on that maiden voyage?  Watch in the brown water.

On the hike out of the wilderness today I felt energized!  I don't know if it was the cane staff that was causing me spry or the brown bugger producing in such off water conditions.  Perhaps it was both.

So, thank you Charlie for the wonderful cane staff you created - it has already made a huge difference in my fly fishing life.

And, to you brown bugger - the Duke of Marabou Brown, here is something for you.

Oh bugger of brown
  dear friend so fine
If you could drink beer
  we'd drink one anytime

I'd tilt the glass
  testament to your favor
Drink the pale ale
  pleasure to simply savor

For you're the grand bug
  when I'm on the river
Trout to my waiting hand
  you never fail deliver  

Chapter 58 Day 88 - Trout Season

On The Fritz

Since Blue River is pretty much chocolate milk due to the rains of Tuesday and Wednesday, I decided to wipe the dust off of one of the pattern books in my collection and find some patterns to tie. 

This is the kind of pattern book I like - lots of pictures, over a thousand to be exact.  Many of the patterns are one's that I've never fished and I can see how I guy could get so involved in this book, he'd never get much fishing done. 

As I was thumbing through the pictures and recipes, another fly pattern that has been the topic of discussion recently came to mind and I decided to tackle that particular fly. 

The fly in question is called the Montana Fritz and when I first heard of this pattern I wondered who in the world would name a fly Montana Fritz unless  it was a guy in Montana named Fritz.  But, I don't think that's the case.

Materials for this pattern are few and simple, but, even with as much fly tying material as I have I still didn't have the exact color of one of the ingredients.  Not to be outdone, I tied up a pattern with a much darker cactus chenille. 

According to one fly fisher that comes to Blue this little fly is dynamite and I can't wait to try it.  Maybe I'll get the right color cactus chenille and tie up some lime Montana Fritz flies and give them a try too. 



Chapter 58 Day 87 - Trout Season

Campaign Charge

It has been a strange week so far.  Tuesday and Wednesday it was almost constant rain, which I should say we are quite thankful for.  Rain however, in the amounts we received, does tend to blur the river Blue and shuts down fishing for sometime. 

Today, it is in the mid 60's here on the prairie ocean and tomorrow is predicted to be even warmer. 

The problem I'm having is that this time of year; at the window of an early spring; when the weather is so sublime; I, along with Charlie tend to start fixating on carp and trout season kind of takes a backseat. 

It's a shameful thing actually.  Trout are the pretty fish that bring us a tremendous amount of joy and pleasure and because of their existence in Blue River we experience spectacular sunrises and peaceful sunsets. 

Carp though, have become our calling of sorts and after last year's slap-in-the-face by nature we are more excited than ever about this coming carp season. 

On the local creek here there is cane.  I guess that Charlie sometimes gets into a hunter-gatherer mode and one thing he looks for is this cane.  He takes the cane and crafts wonderful gifts. 

Today at the mercantile store, Charlie surprised me with two wonderful cane gifts - one being a walking/wading stick and the other being a fine cane flute. 

I guess some will look at this as just another hand-crafted flute, but I have a different feel for this creation. 

With me, since history was always one of my favorite subjects, I think there is a tendency to imagine and live in other times - times much more romantic than the time I have lived and currently exist.  So, when I look at this flute I see a magical call - a campaign bugle that will sound to the grand and golden ones. 

As you can see, Sir Charlie embellished the flute with the Carpolo Charlie fly and that serves as the standard to my belief that this is a carp flute. 

Come around March, I will take this magical instrument to the fringes of the creek.  There a few melodic notes will be played and those notes lingering and hovering in the air will be an attraction that the carp will not be able to resist.

Much like we can read in the Odyssey, this flute will serve like the Sirens that led many a sea-faring man to a fate they could not stop.  The carp, just like the sailors of Odysseus, will not be able to resist the lovely, luring, voices - in this case the voices the carp flute will send forward.

The carp will follow the attraction of the melodic notes to the point they originated and it is there that the carp by fly fisher will stand with his offerings of marabou, chenille, rubber legs and flash. 

Dazed and confused the carp will flare their gills and suck the offering where the lance will find their upper lip and the battle will begin. 



Chapter 58 Day 86 - Trout Season

One Fly Contest Taking Shape

Since the prairie schooner came down lame and has been in the shop and with the much needed rain blurring Blue River quite badly, which means not much chance of getting on the water, I decided to go ahead and order the prizes for second and third place in the 1st Annual One Fly Contest at Blue River.

Of course we all know by now the first place finisher will receive a $100.00 Cabelas gift certificate.  Fellow fly fisher John Haney has been gracious enough to make a trip to Cabelas and now has that prize in his hand.  He plans on delivering the gift certificate to yours truly on a February fly fishing outing. 

The second place winner will receive an Okuma Sierra 5/6 fly reel.  Now, an Okuma is certainly not a Tibor, but I can personally tell you these are tough little reels.

I have fished them for a good number of years and the poor things have been slammed into rocks, smashed up against trees, completely buried in mud, and in 2010 one Okuma reel had over 120 bulldog carp try and rip the guts out of it.  They're good tough little reels and the second place winner should be well pleased with what the reel will bring.

The third place finisher will receive a Spirit River spring action rotary vice.  Again, just like the Okuma isn't a Tibor, the Spirit River isn't a Renzetti.  But again, this little vice will be a good back-up or secondary vise.  I can also see how this can be a vise one would want to take to the river for some tying, particularly if a clamp board or table is also in tow. 

All in all there are some good prizes to be claimed and we also hope to have a number of give-aways by random drawing. 

Entries are still coming in and I should remind anyone interested that the deadline for entering is February 10th, so get those entries in soon please. 

Chapter 58 Day 85 - Trout Season

Friends With Chickens

This is my co-worker and friend Melissa.  Melissa is an outdoorsy type of girl and she likes to fish so naturally we have become good friends.

When not at work, Melissa is on her farm near Dougherty, Oklahoma - a farm with a good number of critters.  Among the critters there are chickens - lots of chickens. 

When talking with Melissa it is easy to detect how proud of she is of her yard birds and she has a good selection of breeds.  Most importantly she is always looking to expand her variety of breeds and that is where I come into this story.

When I think of a chicken, two things come to mind - fried and feathers.  Oh yes, feathers - lovely, beautiful feathers that will tie lovely, beautiful flies that will catch lovely, beautiful fish.

Now, I see nothing wrong with trying to warm-up to Melissa a little more in the hope that I will come to know her chickens even better. 

You see, as Melissa adds to her varied breeds in the yard, the opportunity for some very fine feathers presents itself. 

About once or twice a week, here of late, I've asked Melissa if she has acquired any new breeds - particularly a bird known as a Buff Orpington. 

Once she tells me she has said bird, the Buff that is, then my plan of action of clamoring over Melissa and catering to her wants and needs will be fully employed. 

It will be at that time I will ask myself, "What does this girl desire - chocolate, flowers, egg Mcmuffins?"  Perhaps there is a certain genre of music she likes, or something she collects like miniature porpoises... I don't know and it doesn't matter... I plan on getting whatever it is.

My effort is all in the attempt to grow closer in my friendship with Melissa and therefore coming closer to those delightful feathers on her beloved chickens.

No, I don't feel cheesy at all.  I'll be upfront with my friend and tell her it's a few feathers I am after and in case one of the birds meets it's demise she should call regardless what time of night it might be. 

Through a carefully constructed curriculum of casual communique, I will most certainly learn what tickles Melissa's fancy.

And... once I do, then said fancy will be fulfilled and my fingertips will grow a little closer to those beautiful Buff Orpington dressings.