A Mid-Winter Treat

Sometimes the simplest things tend to be the most enjoyable. You don’t realize this as a young person…life is too fast, too many things, too many people to see, etc… As one grows older you start to slow the train down a bit and honestly, a nice afternoon listening to Merle Haggard with the sun shining on your face, might just be what the doctor ordered.

Such was the case the weekend before last as the temps hit low 60’s and upper 50’s on both Saturday and Sunday. Just the smell is refreshing…I think it’s awesome how powerful your olfactory senses can be in pulling up old memories. Seems like every time I smell old, brittle leather I immediately go back some 40 years ago to my little league moments!

Sunday the 8^th of February would darn near be a country song; I drove my Yukon to church and went from there to Salt Creek below the Lake Monroe dam. I had a new fly rod/reel to take for a spin. I purchased a switch rod, reel and line, all in 6 weight. I am sure that for many a switch rod is an unfamiliar term. But let’s just make it simple…it is a fly rod that is long and made for casting a very heavy line a long ways and in a situation where you wouldn’t have any room to back-cast. There are lots of big rivers that are calling my name and someday in the near future I will be able to journey to many of these storied waters and before that time is near…I want to have the rod and the technique ready to go. If you would like to know more about switch and spey rods then either Google or YouTube these terms and you will see that these big rods have come to us from Europe; when in the hands of someone who can cast the varying techniques used, you can make cast of 70 or more feet with little effort!

My first hour casting my big rod was anything but effortless. I know that I have a lot of practice and even more specific technique work to be accomplished. That being said…when about every 3^rd or 4^th cast was done correctly, it was amazing how far the line would carry. Not only will I be able to make long cast on big moving waters but it will also save a lot of shoulder wear and tear.

By 1pm I had loaded up, and broken down my switch rod. I moved a half hour or so south and west to a stream that I hoped might just hold a smallmouth or two…and might just be interested in a bite. I parked my truck and was grabbing my 3-weight rod when the landowner came out. We stood and talked about a good many things for several minutes. There are so many good people out there in this big world and once again it’s nice to have a one on one, face to face conversation with someone who really cares about you and even cares about your fishing.

I grabbed my lanyard, glasses and a few flies; one of which was a yellow crayfish pattern I had tied before leaving for church. I changed out my tippet to 1X, tied on the optic yellow fly and eased down into the creek directly behind the barn. In my mind, I would be pleased if I were to find even one smallmouth interested in my offering…but then again who could really loose on a day when the weather is in the mid 50’s and I was outdoors and in moving water!

As I was stripping line off of my Ross reel I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye; there on a tree not 40 feet away was the largest pileated woodpecker I have ever seen. I guess I can’t just throw out that it was of world record proportions…cause I really don’t know what that would be…but suffice it to say that this bird was time and a half bigger than the largest crow out there. He didn’t see me and so I stealthily crept closer, finally he launched and left the area…but not before he made several very loud screams. If Alfred Hitchcock were to remake his horror classic about birds-this guy would for sure be the main character.

Years of experience has taught me that smallies won’t eat unless it is bigger and placed directly in front of them, they just won’t expend the energy to chase something that is a small meal. I was casting across at a 90 degree angle into deeper holes and allowing the fly to swing, trundle or do a “death-roll” as it flows down and into the deeper parts of the holes. The trick is to keep the fly bouncing along on the bottom without getting it hung up; not only is it possible to lose a fly but if you have to go in to recover it, you will spook any interested fish.

The second hole was promising as I felt a tap midway through the first drift. I repositioned and made a cast that would allow the fly line to pull the fly through the hole in a downstream direction. Bang…it might have been a month or so but that tug of a fish is a feeling that done enough…you never forget. I strip set and my first fish was quickly brought to hand. No giant but on a day in February…”Any old port in the storm”.

In the mile or so that I was to fish there would really only be a few holes deep enough to house these winter time smallmouth. When I reached the last nice hole, I had landed only one fish and had temporarily caught two more. I pitched the fly on top of the rock just above this hole…the fly line did the rest as it drug the fly off the rock and into the mouth of a nice smallie who was lying in wait for anything that might offer up a good meal. As I looked up I could see the spot that I was to hop out of the stream. Some might say that two landed and a couple more close calls was not worth the effort. Nature is truly all in the ‘eye of the beholder’ and what an awesome mid-winter treat I had experienced. Two hours alone in moving water was just one more love song to my outdoor heart; one more awesome day to Enjoy the Great Outdoors.