Come this Friday, November 1st, the trout will be stocked in Blue River near Tishomingo, Oklahoma. Blue River has become one of the top fall and winter season trout fisheries in Oklahoma. The river and the trout have a huge following from across Oklahoma, Texas, and many other states.
Stockings will take place weekly, although there will not be a published announcement of the exact dates. During the season that begins in November and lasts through March, 60,000 trout will be stocked in the river.
During trout season there are a number of events that take place and here are the dates of those occasions.
The Veterans Day Weekend Trout Derby will take place November 9th and 10th. Over $1,000.00 in cash, prizes, and awards will be up for grabs during the derby. Spinner bait anglers, bait anglers, and fly anglers all have a chance to compete in this event that many have been attending for decades.
In February, the President's Day Weekend trout derby will take place and the dates are February 16th and 17th. Same awards, prizes, and categories are open just like the derby in November.
One week after the February derby is the Blue River Fly Fishers event called The Blue River Fly Classic. This event has been formerly called the Blue River One Fly, but since a one fly event in Jackson Hole, Wyoming has been ongoing for many years, the name One Fly is trademarked and therefore the Blue
River Fly Fishers changed the name of their event.
This event will take place February 22nd. All contestants will receive one single fly of the exact same pattern. Contestants can purchase one mulligan fly for a fee. 100% of the proceeds raised by this event are donated to the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife in support of the trout fishing program at Blue River.
Fly fishing prizes will be awarded to the top three finishers and usually there are a number of give-away prizes at this event. Chuckwagon cook Vernon Forrester of Texas puts on a grand feed for the event and sometimes the food is the best part of all the festivities.
Just yesterday I commented to a friend how the Blue River has a way of bringing people together. How the river does that I haven't a clue... I just know she does. The Blue is ours to keep or ours to lose. Since the river can't speak for herself, then it is our place to always speak for her.
One project anglers and visitors might look for this trout season are stations that house free trash bags. The message that will go along with these stations is for visitors, anglers, hikers, and hunters to help themselves to a free trash bag and carry out more trash or litter than they carried in. It's one way to help eliminate trash on a beautiful little river.
Blue River - too lovely to litter.
Blue River Fly Classic
A One Pattern Fly Event
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Saturday, October 26, 2013
North Carolina Redemption
The Chance Encounter
The Lighter Bucket List
Due to some problems on the return flight to Oklahoma, we wouldn't arrive home until midnight. Once inside my home, the reality that my already shallow bucket was a little lighter now since I made the trip to North Carolina came to be.
Would I go again? In a heartbeat I would, and for sure I would look Ken Hardwick up to see if he would put up with me once again.
Left in the bucket are a number of other places to experience by way of fur and feather and it looks like the San Juan is next.
It was the month of May in 1973. I had a pretty wife, and a beautiful year old daughter and we had made an exodus from Oklahoma on a pilgrimage to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. We were traveling in a 1969 Impala that owned four tread-bare tires. Just ten days prior I had graduated from boot camp at Paris Island, South Carolina. There were 80 recruits in my platoon and only eight of us would graduate boot camp with a stripe on our shoulder. I guess to the recruits that didn't earn that stripe we must have seemed like the guys making the big money, but the base rate for a private first class was not a princely sum.
The Impala made it to Asheville and then due to some rather poor navigation skills on my part, I chose a course that would take us through the Blue Ridge mountains and the Pisgah Forest. Turned out to be the best wrong turn this fellow ever made.
It seemed like every third or fourth turn on that mountain road would reveal the most beautiful water I'd seen in my life. Cascading water, plunging over falls, riffling here and there. I immediately began my starvation for the next two years. Having grown up in an angling home I wanted to fish that pretty water, but fishing would have been a frivolous thing when all our money was needed for Pampers, formula, and the daughters needs.
That was forty years ago, and all these years I've held a whit of regret in not getting to fish the pristine waters of western North Carolina I encountered back then. However, I work for a thoughtful boss and a very kind and generous owner and the two of them teamed up to make a trip back to the Pisgah Forest possible. I was overwhelmed by the gesture.
I knew I wouldn't go by myself because I am not a traveler. To be quite honest I have lived my life on an outside fringe of many things modern. As embarrassing as it is, before the trip to North Carolina I didn't even know how to use a credit card at a gas pump. I do now though.
I wanted to take someone with me that is on fire for fly fishing and a person I knew would see me through and get me back home in case something happened. That man is Van Stacey. Not only is Van married to my youngest daughter, he is an avid outdoorsman and down right good man.
We arrived at our cabin in Brevard late in the afternoon on a Thursday.
Wandering Around The South Mills
Friday morning we decided to set out on our own since we didn't have an appointment with the Davidson river until Saturday. We had read about the South Mills river, it's upper section and the lower. From what we read the lower section seemed to fish better, but we weren't quite sure how to reach this section. As we navigated the winding road in the minutes before sunrise, we saw what looked like a large lake filling a valley between the mountains. As the morning light came our way we realized what we were seeing was a fog lake.
We did have directions to the upper section and after wandering the winding roads for a better part of an hour we realized we had missed a vital turn. Doubling back, we finally arrived at an area known as the gauging station.
The South Mills is a lovely river and home to wild trout. One of our biggest obstacles was simply finding access down to the river because much of this river runs through a gorge if you will. The banks are quite steep and at places the river seems to be 50 feet or more below the trail. As far as wading the river for a long distance, that proved difficult also. This was one of the slickest rivers I had ever tried to wade. Starting out with a hard rubber traction system on the boots, I quickly changed to felt and that helped a little... not much though.
We managed a few wild trout and they were all in the small size category, but beautiful in their infancy. Flies that enticed these wild beauties included the Tellico, RS2, Partridge and Orange, and olive soft hackle. By noon, it seemed like we had hiked four miles or better along the trail, which had now turned into a pig trail. The further we walked the steeper the bank became so we decided to call it a day saving our legs for the Davidson river on Saturday and Sunday.
The Delightful Davidson
Ken armed us with size 20 and smaller midge patterns tied in tandem fashion. The trout of the Davidson are wild trout with the exception of one small section downstream that receives a supplemental stocking and is considered delayed harvest.
There is a fish hatchery on the Davidson and the hatchery draws water off the river and then flushes it back to the river. In the flushing are volumes of nutrients in the form of chironomids. The trout simply stage and open their mouth to suck in these life-sustaining morsels.
It didn't take Ken long to get us into some beautifully colored trout. Rainbows came our way first and then the brown trout came, especially for Van. Van seemed to be on a brown trout searching mission.
The Brook Trout
My return to western North Carolina wasn't so much to experience the trout, since I never experienced them when I was there as a young man, but rather to experience the beauty of this entire area. No matter where you are in the Pisgah Forest or Blue Ridge Parkway, you can't keep from feeling that your standing in a place where a piece of heaven has fallen to earth.
But, even though I came more for the beauty than the fishing, one goal I carried was to catch my first ever brook trout... and Ken made that possible.
I guess I had it in my mind that the first ever brookie would be one of those delicate and dainty fellows that fit in the hand. However, the brook that Ken put me on was almost gnarly looking.
Way To End A Trip
Monday morning rolled around and we had a flight to catch that would return us to Oklahoma. Our departure time allowed for two hours of fishing and Van was faunching at the bit to fish before we left.
I don't know exactly how many brown trout Van caught during our time on the Davidson, but it was a lot. The highlight, however, came with only fifteen minutes of river time left. Van hooked up with a fat brown with thick shoulders. It seemed like ten minutes had passed and the fish was still not near the net. Running out of time Van asked if I could net the fish, but I told him I didn't think my net was quite big enough. I tried once and the fish wouldn't go in. So, rolling the dice I decided to head net the fish, which is for sure a dicey thing to do. It worked and we quickly walked the fish to the shallows.
Van couldn't have been more happy and it was a perfect way to end an already fantastic trip.
The Impala made it to Asheville and then due to some rather poor navigation skills on my part, I chose a course that would take us through the Blue Ridge mountains and the Pisgah Forest. Turned out to be the best wrong turn this fellow ever made.
It seemed like every third or fourth turn on that mountain road would reveal the most beautiful water I'd seen in my life. Cascading water, plunging over falls, riffling here and there. I immediately began my starvation for the next two years. Having grown up in an angling home I wanted to fish that pretty water, but fishing would have been a frivolous thing when all our money was needed for Pampers, formula, and the daughters needs.
That was forty years ago, and all these years I've held a whit of regret in not getting to fish the pristine waters of western North Carolina I encountered back then. However, I work for a thoughtful boss and a very kind and generous owner and the two of them teamed up to make a trip back to the Pisgah Forest possible. I was overwhelmed by the gesture.
I knew I wouldn't go by myself because I am not a traveler. To be quite honest I have lived my life on an outside fringe of many things modern. As embarrassing as it is, before the trip to North Carolina I didn't even know how to use a credit card at a gas pump. I do now though.
I wanted to take someone with me that is on fire for fly fishing and a person I knew would see me through and get me back home in case something happened. That man is Van Stacey. Not only is Van married to my youngest daughter, he is an avid outdoorsman and down right good man.
We arrived at our cabin in Brevard late in the afternoon on a Thursday.
Wandering Around The South Mills
Friday morning we decided to set out on our own since we didn't have an appointment with the Davidson river until Saturday. We had read about the South Mills river, it's upper section and the lower. From what we read the lower section seemed to fish better, but we weren't quite sure how to reach this section. As we navigated the winding road in the minutes before sunrise, we saw what looked like a large lake filling a valley between the mountains. As the morning light came our way we realized what we were seeing was a fog lake.
We did have directions to the upper section and after wandering the winding roads for a better part of an hour we realized we had missed a vital turn. Doubling back, we finally arrived at an area known as the gauging station.
The South Mills is a lovely river and home to wild trout. One of our biggest obstacles was simply finding access down to the river because much of this river runs through a gorge if you will. The banks are quite steep and at places the river seems to be 50 feet or more below the trail. As far as wading the river for a long distance, that proved difficult also. This was one of the slickest rivers I had ever tried to wade. Starting out with a hard rubber traction system on the boots, I quickly changed to felt and that helped a little... not much though.
 |
| Van fishing the pretty South Mills River. |
We managed a few wild trout and they were all in the small size category, but beautiful in their infancy. Flies that enticed these wild beauties included the Tellico, RS2, Partridge and Orange, and olive soft hackle. By noon, it seemed like we had hiked four miles or better along the trail, which had now turned into a pig trail. The further we walked the steeper the bank became so we decided to call it a day saving our legs for the Davidson river on Saturday and Sunday.
The Delightful Davidson
The entire area around Brevard, North Carolina is called the Land of Waterfalls. One of the more prolific waterfalls is Looking Glass falls and this beautiful sight is just a stones throw from the Davidson river where we would be fishing with our guide Ken Hardwick of Davidson River Outiftters.
Ken is a young man but carries an impressive resume of fly fishing experience. Having served as a guide in Alaska he returned to Brevard to pursue guiding full time.
We can watch all the videos, read all the fly fishing books, attend seminars and schools, but nothing like time on the water will substitute for the learning experience when it comes to fly fishing. With Ken by our side on the Davidson river, we learned a lot in a short order of time.
There is a fish hatchery on the Davidson and the hatchery draws water off the river and then flushes it back to the river. In the flushing are volumes of nutrients in the form of chironomids. The trout simply stage and open their mouth to suck in these life-sustaining morsels.
It didn't take Ken long to get us into some beautifully colored trout. Rainbows came our way first and then the brown trout came, especially for Van. Van seemed to be on a brown trout searching mission.
Getting Humbled At Humble Hole
There is a place on the Davidson called Humble Hole and is quite aptly named. Ken took Van and I to Humble Hole on Saturday and we both walked away empty handed. The trout are definitely here, and there are some bruisers swimming around. These fish seem to care less that the angler is right on top of them as they continue to ignore offering after offering.
Sunday, we went back to Humble Hole to experience much of the same. Van took somewhat of a break sitting on the bank and simply rolling his fly out to the mainly not interested trout. Ken staged me upstream and by some stroke of luck I manged two bows from Humble Hole.
 |
| There's a real pretty bow in that net. Ken Hardwick is the gentleman attending the net. |
My return to western North Carolina wasn't so much to experience the trout, since I never experienced them when I was there as a young man, but rather to experience the beauty of this entire area. No matter where you are in the Pisgah Forest or Blue Ridge Parkway, you can't keep from feeling that your standing in a place where a piece of heaven has fallen to earth.
But, even though I came more for the beauty than the fishing, one goal I carried was to catch my first ever brook trout... and Ken made that possible.
I guess I had it in my mind that the first ever brookie would be one of those delicate and dainty fellows that fit in the hand. However, the brook that Ken put me on was almost gnarly looking.
Van steps up next, right after my brookie is released and catches his first ever brookie and she is quite nice also. I think both of us catching a brook trout, one after the other, testifies to Ken's ability to get anglers on fish.
Monday morning rolled around and we had a flight to catch that would return us to Oklahoma. Our departure time allowed for two hours of fishing and Van was faunching at the bit to fish before we left.
I don't know exactly how many brown trout Van caught during our time on the Davidson, but it was a lot. The highlight, however, came with only fifteen minutes of river time left. Van hooked up with a fat brown with thick shoulders. It seemed like ten minutes had passed and the fish was still not near the net. Running out of time Van asked if I could net the fish, but I told him I didn't think my net was quite big enough. I tried once and the fish wouldn't go in. So, rolling the dice I decided to head net the fish, which is for sure a dicey thing to do. It worked and we quickly walked the fish to the shallows.
Van couldn't have been more happy and it was a perfect way to end an already fantastic trip.
Due to some problems on the return flight to Oklahoma, we wouldn't arrive home until midnight. Once inside my home, the reality that my already shallow bucket was a little lighter now since I made the trip to North Carolina came to be.
Would I go again? In a heartbeat I would, and for sure I would look Ken Hardwick up to see if he would put up with me once again.
Left in the bucket are a number of other places to experience by way of fur and feather and it looks like the San Juan is next.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
A Project Worthwhile For Blue River
This past Thursday I had the great pleasure of spending the day fly fishing with Matt Gamble and Michael Mercurio on Blue River.
One thing about spending anytime with Matt is that it can be quite an educational experience pertaining to nature, wildlife, habitats and anything outdoor related. I enjoyed the conversation and learning experience as much as the fishing. The fishing was a lot of fun and we caught some beautiful perch, along with some small mouth and spotted bass.
Matt had something else on his mind however, and it was something he wanted to share. This past summer he travelled to Montana and floated down the Swan River. While there Matt became quite impressed with the efforts of a group of people known as Swan Lakers (swanlakers.com).
The Swan Lakers are quite proud of their beautiful little river and one of their goals is to keep the river as free of litter and as pristine as possible. These folks come up with a great idea of building a station that would house free litter bags to anyone using the river. Matt believes a similar program would work on Blue River.
Yesterday I sent a dispatch to the Swan Lakers organization and within thirty minutes received a most enthusiastic reply from a lady named Kitty. And, it just so happens that her husband Denny was the person who designed and built that free trash bag station.
Kitty and Denny were kind enough to share everything about their program including dimensions of the station and they also sent pictures which I gladly share here. It's a simple concept actually and according to Kitty this program worked so well it's first year there was hardly any trash for their group to collect off the river the weekend after Labor Day.
The trash bag itself is a mesh bag measuring 19 X 11 and comes from a company in Georgia. The cost of the bag is about 26 cents each, which is a bargain.
One thing about spending anytime with Matt is that it can be quite an educational experience pertaining to nature, wildlife, habitats and anything outdoor related. I enjoyed the conversation and learning experience as much as the fishing. The fishing was a lot of fun and we caught some beautiful perch, along with some small mouth and spotted bass.
Matt had something else on his mind however, and it was something he wanted to share. This past summer he travelled to Montana and floated down the Swan River. While there Matt became quite impressed with the efforts of a group of people known as Swan Lakers (swanlakers.com).
The Swan Lakers are quite proud of their beautiful little river and one of their goals is to keep the river as free of litter and as pristine as possible. These folks come up with a great idea of building a station that would house free litter bags to anyone using the river. Matt believes a similar program would work on Blue River.
Yesterday I sent a dispatch to the Swan Lakers organization and within thirty minutes received a most enthusiastic reply from a lady named Kitty. And, it just so happens that her husband Denny was the person who designed and built that free trash bag station.
Kitty and Denny were kind enough to share everything about their program including dimensions of the station and they also sent pictures which I gladly share here. It's a simple concept actually and according to Kitty this program worked so well it's first year there was hardly any trash for their group to collect off the river the weekend after Labor Day.
The trash bag itself is a mesh bag measuring 19 X 11 and comes from a company in Georgia. The cost of the bag is about 26 cents each, which is a bargain.
Personally I'd like to see at least four of these stations erected on Blue River. I believe the doer of such a task will approach the job at hand with a gladdened intent and see the project through and successful.
There should be no rest in the endless war against litter on the lady Blue, or any stream for that matter, and if we waver in our resolute efforts then our wild area can become fraught with refuse.
I know there are many who love the Blue River and will not shy from performing great services when it comes to taking care of nature.
Dear Carp - Shutdown By Gridlock
Dear Carp,
In the world I live there are times that my kind seems to loose sight of any good sense we once owned. This past week is a perfect illustration of rationale thinking going by the wayside as the gridlock in that place known as Washington brought parts of our government to a halt.
Now you know why me, or Van, or Charlie have not been to see you. We have been locked out and kept away from the places you live due to the closure of the national recreation area. I feel quite sorry for Charlie because he just returned from Mexico with a great enthusiasm believing he would be able to come to you.
In the world I live there are times that my kind seems to loose sight of any good sense we once owned. This past week is a perfect illustration of rationale thinking going by the wayside as the gridlock in that place known as Washington brought parts of our government to a halt.
Now you know why me, or Van, or Charlie have not been to see you. We have been locked out and kept away from the places you live due to the closure of the national recreation area. I feel quite sorry for Charlie because he just returned from Mexico with a great enthusiasm believing he would be able to come to you.
How long this lock out will last is anyone's guess at this point. Hopefully, some sanity will return to those that make decisions for my kind, whether we want them to or not.
Van did get some time with your lot before the shutdown occurred. He met a trio of your community members and enticed them all with the Aftermath. I am sending you a postcard that Van would like you to have.
My friends, we hope to see you soon and until we do take care and live happily.
Sincerely,
Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher
Monday, September 23, 2013
Dear Carp - Arrival Of Autumn
Dear Carp,
Sunday announced the arrival of the autumn season and it was with great gladness I found myself standing at the fringe of your watery home for the third Sunday in a row.
Although I knew my time would be a mere whit of an outing, still there was an ease and gentleness with the cool air that autumn brought this morning. This mornings temperature was 59 degrees and that is a wonderful reprieve to the muggy and sticky high 70's we've been encountering in the hours before dawn.
I was surprised to find so many of you in suspended fashion so early in the day. My hope was to find one of you grazing as I often do, but as hard as I searched no grazers were found.
On this Sunday morning the gift I would bring to you was one cactus chenille Creek Critter. I put the gift in the drink and watched for the telegraph signal in the line and there it was.
Sunday announced the arrival of the autumn season and it was with great gladness I found myself standing at the fringe of your watery home for the third Sunday in a row.
Although I knew my time would be a mere whit of an outing, still there was an ease and gentleness with the cool air that autumn brought this morning. This mornings temperature was 59 degrees and that is a wonderful reprieve to the muggy and sticky high 70's we've been encountering in the hours before dawn.
I was surprised to find so many of you in suspended fashion so early in the day. My hope was to find one of you grazing as I often do, but as hard as I searched no grazers were found.
On this Sunday morning the gift I would bring to you was one cactus chenille Creek Critter. I put the gift in the drink and watched for the telegraph signal in the line and there it was.
The citizen that claimed the gift offered wasn't a large member of your community, but he thought he was refusing to yield time after time.
He took me through a really compromised area of this sea current and before our encounter was over we were both battle worn wearing part of the creek on ourselves.
Shortly after saying so-long to this fine lad, I received a dispatch informing me to return to the workplace and therefore I parted company with the wonderful lot of you.
My friends, Charlie will be returning soon from Mexico and he has already shared with me his intentions of coming to you. It should be a grand reunion.
Soon I will traveling to North Carolina to visit other fellows that are similar to your kind. When I return I will come to you with grand stories... hopefully.
Take care grand ones.
Sincerely,
Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Dear Carp - The Color Of Fall Carp
Dear Carp,
In coming to you today, the second week in a row, I feel like a rich man. As I stood at the fringe of your home the cool morning air was refreshing and mindful of the approaching autumn season. I wonder if you sense the same?
Having lost all my Aftermath gifts, I tied a new one before leaving the place that I live. With the Aftermath tied on I show it to the first of your kind I encounter. He is a long fellow and wide in the shoulders - a beastly sort and he likes what he sees. My hook-set is firm and employed with great conviction. This beastly fellow wastes no time however in showing me his determination and runs me to the edge of my backing on a downstream path. Finally I get him turned, but he is not done showing me how the cow eats cabbage.
As he turns to come upstream I realize how clever this beastly one is. He goes to the far bank and entangles himself in the thick weave of the root system along the eroded bank. I see him floating on the surface unable to go forward, back, or to either side. I decide to call it and break him free and as I attempt to do so, I somehow pull him out of the weave. Our battle continues, but not for long. My line suddenly ricochets out of the pool and lands near my feet. Gathering the line I inspect the end of my tippet and sure enough there was the tell-tale sign of a bad or giving tie - a curly-q at the end of the tippet.
With no more Aftermath gifts I tie on one of Charlie's Creek Critters. Looking upstream I see a juvenile and cast the Critter about twenty-five feet. He gobbles it.
Bringing the young chap in for the branding by my hand I notice the colors your kind are taking on. In years past I always enjoy the orange hues in your tails and fins that come about this time of year. Perhaps it's a thing of nature - I'm not sure, but whatever it is seems like a great artist is using you as a canvas.
In coming to you today, the second week in a row, I feel like a rich man. As I stood at the fringe of your home the cool morning air was refreshing and mindful of the approaching autumn season. I wonder if you sense the same?
Having lost all my Aftermath gifts, I tied a new one before leaving the place that I live. With the Aftermath tied on I show it to the first of your kind I encounter. He is a long fellow and wide in the shoulders - a beastly sort and he likes what he sees. My hook-set is firm and employed with great conviction. This beastly fellow wastes no time however in showing me his determination and runs me to the edge of my backing on a downstream path. Finally I get him turned, but he is not done showing me how the cow eats cabbage.
As he turns to come upstream I realize how clever this beastly one is. He goes to the far bank and entangles himself in the thick weave of the root system along the eroded bank. I see him floating on the surface unable to go forward, back, or to either side. I decide to call it and break him free and as I attempt to do so, I somehow pull him out of the weave. Our battle continues, but not for long. My line suddenly ricochets out of the pool and lands near my feet. Gathering the line I inspect the end of my tippet and sure enough there was the tell-tale sign of a bad or giving tie - a curly-q at the end of the tippet.
With no more Aftermath gifts I tie on one of Charlie's Creek Critters. Looking upstream I see a juvenile and cast the Critter about twenty-five feet. He gobbles it.
Bringing the young chap in for the branding by my hand I notice the colors your kind are taking on. In years past I always enjoy the orange hues in your tails and fins that come about this time of year. Perhaps it's a thing of nature - I'm not sure, but whatever it is seems like a great artist is using you as a canvas.
My friends, I have much to do in preparation for my bucket list trip to North Carolina. I do hope to return to you soon and certainly would like to see you more often.
Until our next meeting, live, love, and prosper.
Sincerely,
Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Dear Carp - Reminiscing
Dear Carp,
On my most recent visit with your kind I found myself reminiscing about a time that Charlie and I came to your home together. It was three years ago to the day when not only Charlie and I came, but two young chaps with the television show Outdoor Oklahoma also came.
Outdoor Oklahoma wanted to do an outdoor show about fly fishing for carp and of course we were excited about helping. Yes, we captured several of your lot and all of it was captured on film. It was a day of Lights, Camera, Carp.
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Since that filming the show has aired numerous times and most seemed quite pleased with the production. One exception was the local game ranger. He reported that upon the initial airing of this film his phone began to ring and didn't stop. The outdoor public was highly interested in fly fishing for carp and on one hand that is a good thing. On the other hand though, it caused Charlie and me some concern. Of course we will always be willing to introduce new people to this sport, but we also know how some species have become pressured to the point it almost becomes exploitation and we do not want that to happen to you.
Now on my most recent trip to visit your lot I brought the gift that has seemed to be your favorite - the Aftermath. The first three citizens I would connect with all broke off our talks rather abruptly, which seemed highly unusual and gave me cause to inspect the line I use to connect with you. That inspection revealed a severe roughness in the line and that roughness was dispensed of. A new Aftermath went on and the next citizen would come in for the branding.
He was a pretty lad.
.jpg)
On my most recent visit with your kind I found myself reminiscing about a time that Charlie and I came to your home together. It was three years ago to the day when not only Charlie and I came, but two young chaps with the television show Outdoor Oklahoma also came.
Outdoor Oklahoma wanted to do an outdoor show about fly fishing for carp and of course we were excited about helping. Yes, we captured several of your lot and all of it was captured on film. It was a day of Lights, Camera, Carp.
.jpg)
Since that filming the show has aired numerous times and most seemed quite pleased with the production. One exception was the local game ranger. He reported that upon the initial airing of this film his phone began to ring and didn't stop. The outdoor public was highly interested in fly fishing for carp and on one hand that is a good thing. On the other hand though, it caused Charlie and me some concern. Of course we will always be willing to introduce new people to this sport, but we also know how some species have become pressured to the point it almost becomes exploitation and we do not want that to happen to you.
Now on my most recent trip to visit your lot I brought the gift that has seemed to be your favorite - the Aftermath. The first three citizens I would connect with all broke off our talks rather abruptly, which seemed highly unusual and gave me cause to inspect the line I use to connect with you. That inspection revealed a severe roughness in the line and that roughness was dispensed of. A new Aftermath went on and the next citizen would come in for the branding.
He was a pretty lad.
.jpg)
Still, I am not getting to spend near the time I wish with your community, but things may change someday. Until then, I wish you well.
Sincerely,
Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Dear Carp - It's Been Way Too Long
Dear Carp,
In the last eight weeks I have been to visit with you one time with the exception of this morning. In my one previous visit, conditions were so poor I simply walked away and it was only today in this long period of time I would have a conversation with any of your kind.
As to why I have been absent, my story is much the same as it always is to you. Therefore, I won't ask you to listen to any of my excuses any longer. Let's just say that my work life has paid off in the form of a very nice fly fishing dividend coming my way soon.
On the fringe of your home this morning I had a connection with one of your citizens via the Aftermath gift I often bring to you. The chap was a beast and not at all interested in continuing a conversation and he quickly broke talks off taking the Aftermath as his spoil of battle.
With no more Aftermath gifts I tied on a Creek Critter and found citizen number two. Hooking up with this fellow in an odd place on the creek required me to jump down from the bank and when I did I begin to sink in the silt. With each step I continued to sink a little more and once I was up to my knees I had to put it in high gear to get to a more sturdy sandbar.
In the last eight weeks I have been to visit with you one time with the exception of this morning. In my one previous visit, conditions were so poor I simply walked away and it was only today in this long period of time I would have a conversation with any of your kind.
As to why I have been absent, my story is much the same as it always is to you. Therefore, I won't ask you to listen to any of my excuses any longer. Let's just say that my work life has paid off in the form of a very nice fly fishing dividend coming my way soon.
On the fringe of your home this morning I had a connection with one of your citizens via the Aftermath gift I often bring to you. The chap was a beast and not at all interested in continuing a conversation and he quickly broke talks off taking the Aftermath as his spoil of battle.
With no more Aftermath gifts I tied on a Creek Critter and found citizen number two. Hooking up with this fellow in an odd place on the creek required me to jump down from the bank and when I did I begin to sink in the silt. With each step I continued to sink a little more and once I was up to my knees I had to put it in high gear to get to a more sturdy sandbar.
Now, I spoke of how my work ethic has paid off and it indeed has. When I was a young man I was on my way to Marine Corps base Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. The trip required a drive through the Blue Ridge Mountains along the fringes of the Pisquah National Forest.
It was on that winding road through the mountains and forest I laid my eyes on the prettiest water I'd ever seen. However with a young baby, the wife and I never had a penny to spare for things such as fishing and I never got to fish those beautiful waters - a regret I have carried all these years.
It was on that winding road through the mountains and forest I laid my eyes on the prettiest water I'd ever seen. However with a young baby, the wife and I never had a penny to spare for things such as fishing and I never got to fish those beautiful waters - a regret I have carried all these years.
But, my employer somehow found out about this story I was telling to a co-worker and he recently approached me handing me an envelope with a message in it.
I am sure you can appreciate my joy and excitement about this trip - a bucket list for this aging chap for sure. Here, some forty years later, I am returning to western North Carolina to fish the famous Davidson along with more intimate mountain streams. My buddy Van will be going also and we plan on making the best of the five day adventure.
As a matter of fact we've already started gearing up. Both of us have new Sage rods coming along with new Ross reels and yesterday we made a small gear haul
With summer almost over, my workplace activity should begin to slow down and therefore I hope to see more of you my friends.
At least that is my hope.
Sincerely,
Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher
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