Day 7 – The Locals

24 08 2018

Today was going to be about catching some of the locals.  The Rainbow Trout, Artic Char and Artic Grayling are not migratory and are present year round.  I had never caught an Artic Grayling before or a Giant Alaskan Rainbow so they were on top of the to do list.  I’ve caught Rainbow trout before in Michigan but nothing worth bragging about.  I was hoping I could swing flies for them but the order of business today was going to be beads and indicators.  I also had a different guide today.  Tim was taking another group down to the tidal area so today my guide would be David.  I get the feeling that when guests are trying to catch the resident fish they are handed off to Dave.  It seems to be his specialty and the only way he wants to fish.  After lunch Phil and I changed that.  We got tired of catching lots of little fish and wanted something a little bigger.  That would come later, for now it was lighter rods and beads.

The first stop was on yet another island upstream from the lodge.  I broke out my 6wt TFO BVK rod and let Dave rig it up with a bead and indicator.  He told me to just cast out and drift it through the run about 10 feet from shore.  The bead bite was just starting to kick in since the Chum’s were all spawning.  For the next half hour I proceeded to catch lot’s of rainbows.  Problem was they were anywhere from a couple inches to maybe 12 inches long.  Nothing to get excited about.

Eyes were definitely bigger than his stomach.

I moved further downstream and I finally hooked into and landed a better fish.

That was the only decent fish in the hole so we picked up and moved on to another spot.  This place we would just fish from the boat, kind of like speed jigging.  Drift down quickly, let the indicator drift with the boat for about 200 yards and then motor up and start all over.  Each drift lasted maybe a minute with the fast current.  We hooked fish on every drift but landed very few.  I was able to get my Grayling (3 in total) though.

And another decent Rainbow.

And another Char

Eventually we set up on another island and waded.  No locals but I did pick up a couple of male Chum.  Fortunately they were pretty beat up and didn’t fight much.  I had already broke 2 rods and I didn’t want to make it a third.  A 6wt rod isn’t exactly ideal for a 10+ pound Chum Salmon.

Once we finished up there we told Dave that we wanted to go back to stripping flies for something bigger.  We headed downstream and started fishing for Pinks again.  We hit three places in total.  We would stop, catch a few fish and then nothing after the initial flurry.  The third stop was near the lodge and actually in the same place we saw the bears feeding the night before.  I mentioned it to Phil and then we both got a little nervous.  Dave said not to worry, he had our back.  I looked over at him and his Remington 870 was slung across his shoulder.  After almost a week it still took some getting used to having my guide carrying a shotgun while I fished.

We didn’t stay at the last spot very long.  We could see rain coming down the mountain and neither one of us wanted to get wet so we quit early.  I didn’t mind.  My initial goal was to catch one of every species available and I was able to do just that.  Nothing worth getting a replica mount made for but that was ok.  I had lots of pictures, memories and one more day to go.

 

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A Memorial…..

10 09 2017

The Temple Forks Outfitter’s BVK 6 Weight

We are gathered here today to pay tribute to a valiant warrior, cut down in the prime of his career.  He was more than just a fly rod.  He was an extension of one man’s passion that could never be fulfilled.  The time he spent with his owner was brief and his true potential and devotion will never be known.  Even after his back was broken he hanged tough and still managed to assist in the landing of this beast.  This breaker of rods and spirits.  This white whale of the river.  We will never know what future battles would be fought with the many denizens of the deep, but it is safe to say he would have welcomed them all.  He was overmatched and asked to perform a task he was not designed for but he never complained.  Even as the drag of the Sage reel screamed the rod held his ground and applied all the pressure his graphite body could muster.  He fought a valiant fight, and epic fight, a fight that will not be forgotten.

We will miss him.

The Breaker of Rods and Spirits





A Carptastic weekend, sort of.

5 09 2017

I originally wasn’t planning on doing a whole lot of fishing this Labor Day weekend.  With it being the last “hurrah” for pleasure boaters and a forecast for NE winds I figured I would just stay home.  I had enough chores to keep me busy for the weekend anyways, one of them being re-staining and sealing my deck.  I had been putting it off all summer and I was running out of time.  So with all that in mind I did what any other respectful fishing fanatic would have done.  Went fishing anyways.

A friend of mine had told me about a nearby lake (more of a pond actually) along the Rouge River.  He told me that it was full of carp and nothing else.  I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch up in Garden City around noon on Sunday so I figured I would leave early and check out the area first.  When I arrived I saw that the “lake” was in desperate need of rain, much like the local rivers.  I walked the perimeter and wouldn’t you know it, I spotted a lone carp slowly cruising around in about a foot of water.  I went back to my car and quickly rigged up my TFO BVK 6 wt with an olive damsel fly.  I headed back to the area and after a few minutes I located the same lone carp.  Now came the hard part, trying to find an area I could cast to him.  This part of the lake was surrounded by trees and no room for a back cast.  I wasn’t wearing boots or waders so wading was out of the question.  Never the less I made my way down to the shoreline and waited, hoping he would come in a little closer.  After a few minutes he did and I was able to make a roll cast to get the fly out in his direction.  I patiently waited as he swam closer and then gave the fly a short strip.  He turned towards the fly and swam in.  I wasn’t going to be able to see the take so I kept ready for any sign of it.  Just as he got to where I though my fly was I gave it another twitch and he turned on it.  I lifted my rod, felt the weight, drove the hook home and it was off to the races.  Once again there were other carp right along the shoreline that I did not see.  When he took off 3 more did from the shallows as well.  Now it was going to be a combination of me balancing myself on a log to keep from falling in and to keep him from swimming under the numerous blow downs in the area.   He did manage to swim under small one but I was able to pull him back from under it.  Five minutes later he was in hand and posing for a pic.  After that he was back on his way and I was headed to lunch, a little wet and dirty.  He flopped out of my hand as I was taking the pic and he splashed muck all over my jeans.  Oh well, wasn’t the first time nor will it be the last.

My Precarious Perch

Just before the flop

The next day I headed back hoping for a repeat.  This time the carp were concentrated right in front of the parking lot so I spent my time right there trying to catch one.  This time I wore my knee boots to keep from getting wet.  These fish were feeding but they really didn’t want anything to do with my olive damsel.  I did manage to hook one for a few brief seconds but I think it was a foul hook in the pectoral fin.  I still tried, spooked a few, had a few swim right up to the fly and refuse it and others that just plain flat out ignored it.  One of these days I will figure out how to catch these “cruising” carp with more consistency.  I saw a lot of depressions in the muck and I figured they had to be from bass.  I didn’t see any at first but while I would bring in my fly smaller fish were trying to grab it.  After awhile I switched to a smaller fly to see what they were.  Figured they were bluegill but it turns out they were young Smallmouth Bass.

Guess I’ll have to figure out where the parents are.  When I’m not catching carp of course.