The Realistic Fly Test

For the past month and a half, I have been relegated to the life of a student teacher and therefore have zero time to live. By live I mean go fly fishing or sit on my ass, listen to some tunes, and tie some flies. After one awesome (horrible) day in school, I got out the vice and decided to tie my first fly in months. I had a general idea of what I wanted to construct and I got to work constructing the Winter Wonders Stone modeled after this fella...

Winter Wonders Stone

One Too Many Wraps

Sexy Back

I am admittedly not a very good fly tyer and this fly sure doesn't scream of professionalism. However, my ugly ass flies catch fish, and that seems to matter more in my opinion. This is also my first attempt at tying anything that would be regarded as "realistic" and I think it turned out decent. The high point of the tying session occurred while rocking out to some State Radio. I was attempting one of the final steps when I accidently cut off one of the rubber legs. This on minute 30 something. I let out a roar of **** that seemed to echo and reverberate through the apartment and down main street. A las I finished the fly and decided to play a trick on my roommates. What ensued is quite hilarious...

...ditching the squalor

I currently live in Baltimore, a mere block from Inner Harbor. Amidst the amazing history of the area, the culture of the inhabitants and the views of a city built near the water, there lays a darker side. The Chesapeake Bay is in a truly sad state. One does not need to do anything beyond peer into the turbid waters surrounding downtown to see nothing but trash and black, polluted water to realize that there is an epic problem.

I spent some time on a research vessel with the National Aquarium over the summer taking salinity, turbidity, bottom samples and disolved oxygen readings throughout the Harbor area. What we found was depressing. We used a dredge to sample the bottom of the bay in about 10 different locations. At every single location the 'bottom grab' yielded nothing but a foul-smelling black sludge comprised of sediment, particulate run-off and decaying organic matter. Not one sign of life. Each grab also yielded bits of trash, it never failed. On one of the days, our dissolved oxygen readings in all 10 locations were not high enough to support life. They were barely viable on the other days. Visibility in the harbor area is limited to inches. A few times a year, algea blooms from the phosphate and nitrogen runoff surging into the bay each time it rains are responsible for massive fish kills in the downtown area. Also, Mahogany Tides surge throughout the upper bay on a regular basis. This is when the water turns a bright brown color due to another type of algea bloom. The Striped Bass, or rockfish as they are called here, is one of the only species that has recieved a passing grade in the past two years. However, there are none to be found in the harbor area. The famous Maryland Blue Crab is in dire straights with severe moratoriums on harvesting. Oysters, the keystone of the ecosystem for their filtering ability, are essentially gone.

The Chesapeake Bay Foundation, the Maryland Department of Natural Resources and Save the Bay have numerous programs aimed at tackling this issue. In my science classroom we have grown and planted approximately 10sq ft of submerged aquatic vegetation in the past two years, to act as a run-off fence and protect the precious oysters from sediment pollution. The annual Chesapeake Bay report card has shown that oysters are at less than 1% of historic levels and everything from submerged vegetation to plankton has received failing grades.

In spite of all of this, in the Baltimore area there is at least one freshwater fly fishing location that can truly take your breath away and redeem a spirit beat down by the state of the Bay. It is a section of the Gunpowder River, directly below Pretty Boy Reservoir. Recent electroshocking has yielded estimates of more than 4900 naturalized brown trout per mile in this section. Fingerling 'bows are stocked each year but it appears most are devoured by the resident brown population. There are also a precious few Kamloops rainbows in there that can get massive. The fish are naturally reproducing, healthy and plentiful.

The river itself is magnificent. As a tailwater is flows flat for about 3\4 of a mile before entering a section, about another 1 mile long, filled with deep plunge pools, boulders, waterfalls, riffles and smart-as-hell brown trout. Herons, beavers, muskrat, epic hatches and fellow fishermen can be observed on any given day.

As I arrived there on Saturday for my first trip this year I was hopeful. I had had luck there in the past and the browns were gorgeous. I fished in the 70degree weather for about 3 hours with no luck, however, before I tied on a size 22 RS2. On my first cast, a 7 inch brown took it from a deep, dark plunge pool. I had a toothy grin as I brought the fish to hand. Crouching down to take out the barbless hook I was mesmerized at the coloration on this tiny fish. It appeared like a vein of gold mined from the black granite boulder I was huddled over. I stared for a few seconds, then gently released the fish.


Although she was the only one I landed that day, seeing a healthy, vibrant trout in as wild a setting as the Gunpowder, surrounded by murmuring whitewater and all of the potentials left un-mined from this particular pool, I forgot for a second that I was a short drive from a smoldering metropolis mired in an uphill battle to save the ecosystem and waterway it has been built upon.
-matt

...and now for something completely different.

So, something suitably exciting has happened to warrant my first-ever blog post. My girlfriend and I have secured teaching positions in the caribbean. I think my brother Mark may have been more excited than I was when I told him we had received job offers in this tropical paradise.

For at least the next two years I will trade in my pursuit of trout and other freshwater species for Tarpon, Permit, Bonefish and other assorted saltwater sea monsters. Mark and Adam are already saving for plane tickets and new 10wts, as they know that they have our couches to crash on for as long as they can afford.

I've got a fantasy in my head of living within walking distance of some flats, taking a used boat with a small outboard and a poling tower to any of the 45 uninhabited islands that comprise the BVI, a screaming reel as a tarpon heads for the horizon and hoisting permit upon tarpon upon bonefish out of the water on a regular basis.

I will keep this blog updated on how that's working out for us. In the meanwhile, I've got to teach Stacy (and myself, for that matter) to drop a fly in a 2ft circle from 70ft away.

Thursdays...

After a full week of getting owned by organic chem and cell bio labs, I find myself pursuing what I’m actually attending school for…Aquatic Entomology. Thursdays are dedicated to the research of aquatic insects. Thursday mornings consist of collecting...cough…Fly Fishing, haha. The rest of the day spent in the lab identifying.

While Mark spends his time writing lesson plans, I’m reading journal articles and writing research proposals on territoriality of predatory stonefly nymphs.

Typical Thursday in picture form…

Transportation...

"There he is..."

Lab

Acroneuria

The Drake...Ephemera

Maccaffertium

This is also my first ever blog post...hahaha...weird...

That Time of Year.

With the weather at or near record highs across the east coast and it being February, I thought I would reflect on a forgotten insect that emerges during warm afternoons in January and February, the Little Black Stonefly. I have been fortunate to be on the water when these tiny stones are emerging, often crawling up onto the ice and snow along the edges of streams and rivers. Many times, fisherman overlook the Little Black Stonefly, while those that don't are rewarded. I have caught many a brown trout imitating these small stones and it is a delight to match a hatch in the dead of winter.

Well, Hello Beautiful...

We Are Talking Small...

I often tie Little Black Stones using size 16 to 20 extra long nymph hooks, with black turkey biots, pheasant tail, and some black paintbrush bristles. Using the biots as the abdomen makes a very slim profile, and the paintbrush bristles as tails and legs add to that design. I use the pheasant tail or peacock hurl as the thorax for a little glistening but other than that its a very simple pattern that produces.

Yellow Breeches Brown on a Little Black Stone.

January 2008

Hickory Run Brown on a Little Black Stone.

February 2008

I would like to thank Moldy Chum for this sweet link to watch A River Runs Through It online for free. Im sitting in the University of Delaware's library writing this post and about to bang out some lesson plans for student teaching with the adaptation of Norman Maclean's words ringing in my ears. Nothing like getting your daily fix in, anyway you can.

"How the hell do you help that son of a bitch?"

"By taking him fishing"

http://crackle.com/c/A_River_Runs_Through_It/A_River_Runs_Through_It/2410847

The Best of Signs.

Bringing The Last Few Posts Alive.

When faced with a choice between studying for a spanish class that you have to pass in order to graduate and finishing a new fly fishing movie, you make the the fly fishing movie and hope for the best in spanish . I just took and probably did not do well on my exam but I was able to finish this.

Priorities baby.

Enjoy.

Winter Wonderland.

I came home from school this weekend to take the Praxis II Social Studies Content Knowledge Exam Saturday morning for six hours of my life. However, with the snow on the way, it was canceled which made me extremely angry but...this led to a day on the water. Adam and I headed out at 7 am despite the fresh two inches of snow on the ground and another six and ice on the way. Arriving at the ole mill, we slipped all over the place on the ice covered ground on the way to the stream. Three to four inches of solid ice with a fresh two inches of powder on top are not good conditions for walking with feltsoul wading boots.

Hooking Up.

Average Small Stream Brown.

Burr...

Where I (idiot) decided to enter the stream required a hike on an incline, followed by a catwalk on top of a concrete slab 10 feet above the stream, followed by a 5 foot drop to another slab, and then another 5 foot drop to the stream and stable walking conditions. That proved to be impossible, so we had to descend the incline. After having talked about how conscious we had become about avoiding thorn bushes in our new waders we were about to have wished we knocked on some wood. I lasted about three feet before I fell and slid down the incline feet first on my stomach. I only stopped because a forest of thorn bushes caught and stopped my decent about 3/4 of the way down. I was wrapped up bigtime all around my waders and slid down back into the thorns two more times before I finally made it out of that mess. Adam did not have better luck as he got wrapped up and shed some blood as the thorns ripped apart his frozen hands. After making it to the stream, we were thankful to be in familiar territory and have a chance to walk on stable slippery boulders and algae for the rest of the day.

Stones.

Next Time, More Rubber Legs.

Adam's Future Tattoo.

My Turn.

Brown Time.

Story over, the fishing proved to be a little sluggish because the temperature was a solid 27 degrees. We did manage to catch several small bows and browns on the stream and get some quality shots of some huge stones. The temperature proved to be quite a disadvantage. Before I could even cast, I had to submerge my entire outfit underwater for a few seconds in order for it to be free of ice and function semi-normally. The cold also hurt the hands and they haven't been this cold since Erie 07'. After six hours of fishing, and not wearing any gloves, the hands were a bit red and swollen. At one point, while filming some underwater shots my fingers froze together. After a few hours on the mill we decided to explore some new water and what we found proved to be worth the effort getting there.

Anticipation.

Winter Wonderland.

Doesn't Get Much Prettier.

There is something about fishing a body of water for the very first time that sets it apart from any other time you ever have a chance to fish it. Arriving, you have a heightened sense of anticipation rather than having expectations. You have no idea what awaits around the next bend or what lurks beneath in the fast currents and deep holding water. You can predict and probably have a gut feeling that something quite large lives in a particular lie. But if you never actually see it, you will never know if it truly exists. So when Adam mentioned to me that if there was something in this beautiful plunge pool, it was going to be quite large. I put the thought in my mind and had a little faith in the situation. The conditions for something large were all there and when it did happen I was a little surprised. The new stream can hold some nice trout and will be revisited again and again. The next time however, the allure of fishing a stream for the very first time will no longer be there. It will be replaced with expectations that may or may not be met.

Now We Know What To Expect.

Eye Candy.

Scenic Outing.

The other day my brother and I decided to wake up extremely early and drive to the Poconos in search of wild brook trout on a remote stream in the mountains. We made the drive, followed the gps, and made it to the road only to be denied access. The road was closed because apparently they do not plow it in the winter and it was a solid sheet of ice. This ruined our high expectations for the day. Taking turns at the wheel, I drove back and we fished some smaller streams around Beltzville Lake.

One of the More Scenic Holes.

Hooking into a 10 inch Brookie.

On the Menu.

My brother, Matt was breaking in a brand new small stream rod and he did not disappoint it. He hit the PA "grandslam" landing a brown, bow, and brookie in a single day. Not bad for a frigid late December day. We were able to get some nice footage and photos of the scenery. While he fished, I often turned my attention to reaching into the water which was around 37 degrees turning over rocks looking for some good material. I found it in a variety of mayflies and caddies mixed in with some rogue stoneflies. Macro video proved to take some awesome footage of the extraterrestial-like trout food.

Discovered This Guy On My Thumb While Walking Back To The Car.

Found Under Almost Every Rock.

Mr. Green Caddis Larva

My only fish of the day proved to be quite the catch, as I landed one of the largest wild browns I have ever caught on these small streams. A skinny but beautiful 15 inches, the fish caught me by complete surprise as he came out of a hole that in three years had never produced a strike. The brown succumbed to a size 16 tan caddis pupa with a ribbed pheasant tail back. The golden colors on the brown were brightly reflected in the sunlight. He released himself before a photo could be taken. A video still will have to do.

Brown Gold.

A Fine Specimen.

Trout, Trees, and Ice In The Guides.

A small stream can only be considered "small" if you end up catching more trees than trout. This type of classification becomes more difficult to achieve when you are catching trout left and right. However, I still believe Adam and I met this standard yesterday on one of the more productive winter outings in memory. We did not count how many trout we caught but if we had, I think we would have lost count.

Gearing Up.

It Was Cold.

Stones Are On The Menu.

Small rainbows and browns were the ticket of the day with the occasional "trophy" of 10 inches. We also witnessed the "behemoth" of the stream as we spooked probably a 14-16 inch brown trout in a section Adam prefers to call the chutes. The fish were all in great condition, especially the brown trout. Absent however, were the brook trout that are most likely gone from this stream as they have been overrun by the browns and bows.

"Trophy" Brown

BH Gold Ribbed Tan Caddis Pupa.

Compare the Colors Above and Below Water.

And Release...

The "spot" is always generous to us but it does not come easily. You still have to work for what you get and this was no exception. With the water nice and high from a decent snow fall, the currents were raging and achieving a dead drift with the limited positions available to us proved to be quite tricky. Adding to this dilemma was the ice that seemed to never stop forming on our guides, lines, and reels.

Young Lateral Line.

Gotta Love the Spots on These Browns.

Release...

I Don't Know Which Looks Better.

These were minor problems when faced with the real challenge of the stream, casting. The typical scenario requires a presentation under an overhanging alder, but over an overgrown thorn bush on the backcast, while being sure not spook the trout. In extremely tight spots, casting is not achievable so you perform a slingshot cast and pray for the best. Roll casting can be a succuss in limited situations but more often than not the height needed isn't there. Sidearm casting under all the branches is my prefered method of choice.

Be Careful When You Set The Hook.

Or Attempt To Cast Here.

The Reward For All The Hardwork.