In the event, I decided to fish the stream most fished ("SMF"), close to where my Mom used to live, and which I've fished many dozens of times over the years. This wasn't the result of any special thought process other than the hope that it wouldn't be crowded. This was my third trip to this stream this year. The first, at the height of the early stone fly hatch a month or so ago, provided perhaps the best day ever. A week later, I had a good day, though nothing special. Today, I hoped that last night's rains (if Princeton weather was any guide) would have freshened the stream flow.
As it turned out, I didn't see any other fishermen, though there were a bunch of hikers around, and even three teenaged girls in bikinis who turned one of the big fishing holes into their own swimming pool. Families were picnicking, and it was surprisingly irksome to hear kids screaming in the distance. Yet an engaging day of fishing it was.
I arrived on the stream, after a lovely hike in, around 1 PM, and decided, based on Friday's experience, to tie on another cahill. This turned out to work fairly well, and I kept it on for most of the day. The first structure I hit was a slow, deep pool. This pool always holds big fish. But the water is so still here that you really get only one cast.... the fish always see your line (if not your movement) and go to ground. So you can get at most two shots, if you're lucky...one to the middle of the pool, and one to the head.
I could see a fish rising to a natural about 40 feet upstream. So I let loose a long, accurate cast, a few feet upstream from where I'd seen the rise, and was rewarded with an immediate strike. When I set the hook the fish jumped into the air, nipped over a small sweeper, than dove into some underwater brush and got off. Still, a nice start.
After a couple of casts to the middle of the same pool with no response, I saw another rise about 60 feet upstream. I moved carefully about 15 feet closer, then loosed another 45 foot cast. Again, a strike, and I set the hook. The fish charged downstream through the pool (I had to strip quickly), then dove down to the centre with surprising force. In a few seconds I'd managed to pull him up, and landed him, flip flopping all over the place.
It was a 12-13" brown trout, skinny, but very big for this stream. This is close to the biggest fish I'd ever taken here.
Above: The first structure, a long, slow, deep pool. The first fish landed rose just in front of the overhanging branches.
Below: The first fish landed... a 12-13" brown trout.
The stream flow was surprisingly low. Perhaps they didn't get the rain last night that we did further south, or else the base stream level must have fallen precipitously. The stream flow was much lower than last month. It made the fish skittish, and because SMF isn't a high gradient stream like Tetertown, it meant you were always at risk of spooking fish as you approached a structure. Several times I crept onto pockets, only to see dark shapes streaking upstream.
It meant that a lot of the stream was "out of play". On many structures, you simply couldn't get into a position to cast. So things never settled into a rhythm. Yes, on a few structures I landed fish, but the counts were low, even though the average size was pretty good. Counting the small fish, I don't think I exceeded 10 fish altogether. But 5 were 10" or better, which is pretty darn good. Disappointingly, some usually reliable runs and pockets were devoid of fish. Perhaps someone was fishing in front of me.
Anyway, after an hour or so of nothing, I approached one of the most reliable structures on the entire river, two deep channels gouged out of bedrock, one down the center of the stream, the other against a rock face. I almost always catch fish here, and today was no exception, as I landed two nice 11" bows.
Just upstream from this structure is a deep run that is nearly as reliable. The current runs through two boulders, and then opens into a deep channel that, today, is about knee depth. I pulled another nice 'bow from here on the cahill. It's actually not very good dry fly water, since the structure is pretty deep, and the current runs fairly briskly.
Below: The second structure...
After releasing the bow, I covered the run with a few more casts, and saw (relative to this stream) a massive head grab my fly just as it nearly passed by the deepest part of the run (the place that should hold the largest fish). I tried to set the hook, but the fish seemed to spit the fly a second or two after he dove to the bottom. I wasn't sure, but felt pretty sure it hadn't felt the hook's point, so there was some chance this fish might still be caught.
Not likely with the same fly, however. Brown's in particular, and I thought this was a brown from the brief glimpse I'd had of him, rarely will rise again to a fly that they've spit out. So I changed to a different dry, and covered the same run. Nothing.
I'd pretty much decided this was the end of my fishing, so I decided to switch to a nymph, figuring any fish would be more likely to take something under the surface than expend all that energy rising to the top. I tied on a bead head pheasant tail, and an indicator, and cast to the head of the run. My indicator stopped on the first drift, but, surprised, I was slow setting the hook. I managed to pull a fish out of the water column enough to barely see it, just before it wriggled off. I wasn't sure, but it seemed smaller than the "massive head", so I cast again.
One or two more casts, and my indicator hesitated on the drift, so I set the hook (promptly this time). I was rewarded by a heavy throb through the line, and then a strong pull down. Fortunately, the fish had to fight both me and the current. Still, it seemed to take him the better part of a minute to get him under control. This time it was a FAT 12-13" brown trout.
He was feisty, and hard to photograph when I landed him...he actually flipped off a rock, out of the hook, and back into the water. Fortunately, he decided to rest in the still water before swimming off, and I was able to photography him on the bottom.
Below: The feisty fish resting on the bottom.
Catching this fish was very pleasing. I realize that in prior years I never would have changed flies the way I did, and was pleased that it all worked out the way it did. I rolled up my line, and started the hike back to the car, thoroughly pleased with myself and my Memorial Day fishing.
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