The Fish of 2014

Stripers...

2014 was another fine year for TRIW and our friends. A lot of nice fish were caught and some of them were downright beautiful. The year brought big time stripers with Tyler Nonn of Tidewater Charters, cobia with Kyle Sawyer and Ben Sheppard, tigerfish on the Zambezi, and Adam's first year guiding in Alaska. I held down the home front with the typical trout, carp, steelhead routine. If you happened to fish with us this past year, thanks for all the memories and cheers to 2015!

Enjoy...

A Wild One

It is Thanksgiving break and my father asked me to go fishing. His requests usually revolve around the game of golf, which I like, its just that compared to fly fishing, golf sucks. Naturally, I accepted the offer to go fishing and we awoke on a cold morning to head to a local tributary.

This particular tributary lacks a population of trout but every now and then, when the timing is right, it can produce. Most of the trout I have caught from this creek have come from the lake including a few large fish. However, a series of small waterfalls prohibits (some make it) lake run fish from making it really far upstream. Upstream of the falls, I have never caught a trout. Flipping over rocks reveal an utter lack of insect life which probably is a result of poor water quality. Because of this, there aren't many fish to be had, despite the quality of holes and scenery.

As we progressed up the falls, there is only a hundred yards of fishable water before private property signs block the rest of the stream. In a deep pocket along some riffles, I mined up my first trout from this tiny section of stream. Small, skinny, wild, and beautiful it was a sign of life from an otherwise lifeless section. Upstream of that is a nice plunge pool that approaches 12 ft. in depth. In the crystal clear water, I saw another brown hovering. I progressed through a tangle of rhododendron bushes to a rock overhang that juts out into the deep water. It took a few drifts to get the correct depth, but the small brown took and popped off at my feet. I switched over to a sculpin and a 6 wt. and worked the rock overhangs. A larger brown emerged for an inspection but quickly went back into hiding.

We fished a few other small streams where my dad picked up a brook trout all by himself. Other than that, he was content to just watch me fish and take a few pictures. Holidays are all about family, friends, and good times. On this particular outing, it was just nice to be on the water with my dad. The fish were just an added bonus.

My Annual Migration

I’ve lived at least a few thousand miles from my hometown for going on four years now, but have returned during each of the past winters to spend the holidays with family and friends.

A midnight suicide run to the tributaries of the great lakes has become a tradition.  Late December isn’t the most productive time on those waterways, but the weekends spent on them with my brother and Adam, and occasional guests like our friends and fathers, result in some potent memories.

I’m drawn back for many reasons, but the scenery, moments and fish captured in the images below will explain better than my words ever could.

Better Together

Good Morning Baja

After landing the Dorado on fly, we had achieved one of the two things we wanted to do on our guided trip with Baja Anglers. The other awaited us farther up the Sea of Cortez and is one of the sexiest fish alive. 

Exiting the Marina

The Sun is Rising

Ocean Spray

A Common Site In Front of Our Hotel Every Morning

Our guide pulled up on a string of beaches about half an hour away from Land's End. From there, we slowly motored our way up the coast coaxing roosters to the boat using the "bait and switch" method.

Matt and I wanted our father to catch some fish and we let him go first. Armed with a spinning rod, a circle hook, and a live mullet, it didn't take long for my Dad to get into the first fish. For some reason, fishing is hilarious whenever it involves our Dad. It could be the Big Poppa Pump moniker or maybe it is just funny to watch my Dad be out of his element with a rod in hand. I think combining his clumsiness, old age, lack of skill, and then throwing him on a rocking boat did my brother and I in. But, it was funny. Really funny. After that, it was all fly fishing.

My brother was up next, the first to try on a fly. This was also the trial and error period where presentation, stripping mechanics, and all the kinks in the communication between guide and angler were worked out. After missing a few hook sets and popping a fish off after a good struggle, Matt tied into a decent fish. Surprising to all of us, is how hard rooster's fight. Even the small ones could bend the 10 wt. in half, and tear drag off the spin and fly reels.

I bought an Allen Alpha II 9/10 as a backup and it has performed well for me this summer catching tarpon, cuda, roosters, and the dorado. Retail: $140. 

The coast is littered with high end hotels and mansions.
Some of which, are hard to fathom. 

Balancing Act in Blue...

Always Looking for an Easy Meal

After Matt hooked up and released the first Rooster on fly, it was my turn at the back of the boat. Two small roosters whipped back and forth with their combs flaming behind the mullet. The guide lured them back to the boat and I was able to time everything well enough to catch one on my first cast. It was probably the smallest rooster caught, but it was mine. All mine.

Other parts of the coast have your typical Baja desert feel
 with towering peaks reaching to the clouds.

After my fish was gone, Big Poppa Pump caught his, forcing our guide to proclaim him, the luckiest man alive. My brother and I just looked at each other and shook our heads laughing. We couldn't believe it happened.

Matt made the cast of the outing for his next fish. Only 30-40 feet, but on a rocking boat. It landed on a dinner plate in front of a charging rooster the exact second our guide pulled the mullet out of the water. The fly might as well have landed in the fish's mouth as it attempted to swallow the bait. He hooked up instantaneously.

The next two hours produced little action as the seas picked up. In the last hour, Matt and I put down the fly rods for the first time, grabbed two spinning rods with fresh mullet and had them behind the boat. The mullet swam side to side a foot below the water. Suddenly, a large comb broke the surface as a rooster slashed at my bait before inhaling my brothers. He waited 5-10 seconds before setting the circle hook in the corner of the fish's mouth. He was in for a fight having hooked the largest and sexiest fish of our trip.

I know we cheated on this trip. Roosters from a boat aren't exactly as difficult as catching them from the beach, where anglers can go days without a chance. However, roosterfish aren't dumb. They are intelligent and the memories of them tracking our flies, swerving side to side, and inspecting it from all angles will be seared into my memory. Beyond these images, the stories and experiences with my brother and father will be told for years to come. It always seems to be better when we are together laughing and sharing the moment.

We will go back to Baja sometime in the future. I feel like I have unfinished business with the challenge of one on foot, DIY style. I have visions of a tent, an atv, and maybe a rented house. Hopefully, the trip involves friends, family, and a whole lot of good fishing.