My Love Affair With Water

I’ve said it before…but I have a passion, a love affair with water of all kinds and at times it borders on an addiction. Hopefully you read last week’s column about Jared Jeffries and his new fishing show on the Outdoor Channel, Modern Fishing with Jared Jeffries. If you haven’t then click this link to read the story. You can also listen to this eight minute interview that I did with Jared; I think you’ll find it very interesting as we talk fishing and basketball.

My last question for Jared was this, “Why do you love fishing…what makes it so special”? I thought his response, especially since it was un-scripted…was classic, “Freedom of the open water-no one can tell you you’re doing it the wrong way…fishing is intimate, as long as you’re having fun and enjoying it-you’re fishing the right way”. Bravo…couldn’t have said it any better!

Two weeks back we had a Wednesday when the  temperature hit 50 degrees and I was chomping at the bit to get out and do…about anything; I loaded my Suburban with my fly fishing gear and eased into my parking spot about a half hour after school was over. Truly I wasn’t expecting any success as there was still ice on a big portion of the creek I was fishing. The walk down to the stream was special in that I might as well have been walking on the surface of the moon; the only tracks that were in the 12 inches of slushy snow was that of raccoons, turkeys, rabbits, deer, squirrels and geese…in fact there were lots of big Tom turkey tracks. There was ice on the creek but the sound of the water as I neared was music to my ears; I stopped, closed my eyes and drank in the serenity of this peaceful valley.

I walked alongside the stream for about a half a mile, passing ten or fifteen summer holes that would normally be full of chunky smallmouth bass; at each point I could remember catching fish from each spot…but not today, the water was way too cold; there are but two spots in this stretch where the water is deep enough to hold winter smallies and through the trees I could see my prime spot. The water was clear and I eased out and around the hole; a sneak attack from the north is usually the best approach. Carefully and gently I stepped into the creek making sure not to cause a big ripple on the surface. If you think these fish aren’t smart…well, they don’t get to be near 20 inches by not paying attention to all the signs they have available to them. The 30 or 40 foot walk to ‘my rock’ that I usually cast from took me a couple minutes; the anticipation and excitement built with each foot and as I peered upstream I could see that there was an ice sheet about five foot wide that hugged the bank and glistened outward towards the rippling current of the meandering water.

Now this wasn’t my first winter smallmouth rodeo;  I had indeed caught fish, cold winter fish…from this exact spot. I had a burnt orange crayfish pattern that I had tied the night before; it was attached to my 7’6” Cabela’s TQR 5 weight rod. I carefully stripped out about 25 foot of sink tip Rio line and false casted until I had my fly just above the ice shelf and at the head of the pool. The fly ‘plopped’ down on the ice, I nudged it off and could see that it was trundling down into the pool; the current had now grabbed the fly line and was pulling it downstream which in turn caused the fly to dead drift right into the depths. I raised my rod and starting slowly stripping in the excess fly line so I could strip set the line if need be. It was at about that moment that I noticed the portion of the fly line that changes from the clear sink tip to chartreuse had paused; what happened next always surprises me but without thinking my left hand made a sharp, deliberate strip set. Initially I thought the fly had just snagged…then the tension increased and it was game on. I quickly tightened down and stripped another ten foot of line; there in the clear water was a very large smallmouth. Truth is it was so bronze colored that had I been fishing in big brown trout water-I would have bet it was a big toothy brown. I had tied on new 1X tippet and thought I had enough pop to strip the fish in without chancing a break and in another minute I had the fish right at my feet. In the clear water you could see the fish straining against the line with the orange fly stuck right in the top of its snoot. It was at this point that I raised my rod hand, keeping pressure on my right index finger and bent down to lip my trophy…when it happened, the fish exploded straight left towards the ice shelf that was only a foot or two from my wading boots and as you might guess…the rest is history. 1X tippet is no match for ice and it quickly sawed the line about 12 inches from the fly. Sadly the fish didn’t know he was free and I could still see about half his body sticking out from the ice…I knew that on the other end was my fly; I jerked my right sleeve up and tried a little hand fishing, it was no good as what would have been both my first fish of the year and quite a trophy sprinted past me back to the depths of his hole. To add insult I could clearly see my fly still hooked into his top lip; sacre-bleu! As I went to tie on another fly I had to smile; “it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all”! Still, the break up usually hurts for a while?

If you haven’t yet experience a ‘water addiction’ then might I ask what you are waiting for? Come on man…make 2014 the year you immerse yourself into a creek, stream, lake, boat or float tube. Freedom for a few hours…no one telling you how or what to do…seems like that goes hand in hand with Enjoying the Great Outdoors.