I Need A Spey Rod.

Steelhead on the Dry.

kind of a big deal from ryan peterson on Vimeo.

Granted, I live no where near suitable spey water, I just want to get a thrill out of spey casting.

Walk of Shame.

Gives You An Idea of the Water Quality.

I went for a run the other day down a highway by my apartment and discovered a small stream nearby. I stopped running and peered over into the slow dirty stream and saw a huge largemouth cruising down under the bridge. That was all I really needed to see and I anticipated heading back to catch some fish. Finally, a decent spot for some fun. A few days later I woke up at dawn and decided to walk down to the stream. The mile long walk along the highway wasn't too bad on the way there. I was pumped and amused by the looks on commuters faces as they passed by. Little did I know, but the walk back wouldn't be so fun.

Watch Your Step, or Risk Your Leg.

Someone Misplaced This.

As I bushwacked down under the bridge I hoped I wouldn't come across another homeless person, like my last excursion. Thankfully, I didn't and after a few moments my first cast produced. To my surprise, it was a small pickerel. I was ecstatic that I found a decent spot so close to my apartment. On my next cast, a much larger pickerel, easily over 20 inches exploded on my woolly bugger from under a brush pile. My line went limp as I set the hook. He had easily sliced right through my 3x. I brushed it off, and thought that it was just because I didn't check my tippet after the last fish. I tied on another fly, a much larger pattern. I was only going after the big guns now. A few casts later, in a deeper hole, another leviathan came out to play and once again my tippet was cut clean. I brushed it off again, cut off that silly piece of tippet, and tied another large streamer pattern straight to the butt section of my leader. 

I Had High Hopes After Landing This Guy.

My, What Big Teeth You Have.

A Broken Loop Revealed How Dirty My Line Is.

Too Much Brownlining.

I thought there was no way that another pickerel could cut through what was easily 15-20 pound test, but I was wrong. I lost another one of my favorite streamers. It fell victim to the blade like teeth of these voracious predators. After fumbling around the muddy banks, wading through forests of poison ivy, and sinking feet into mud, I called it quits. Of course this was after, I had lost yet another large pickerel (but not my fly) and the loop connection on my sharkskin broke. I left the stream, made my way up to the highway, and began the walk of shame back to the apartment. I was sad, dejected, and covered in mud. With the way my luck went, I am probably covered in poison ivy and deer ticks but that is the last thing on my mind. I am only thinking about a trip to the nearest fly shop, some steel leaders, and some freshly tied pike streamers. Next time, I will be prepared, and it most definitely will be a different story. 

Couldn’t stay away...

The day after I slayed 15+ carp I felt the urge to go back and try my luck. I slept until 1 in the afternoon, and I knew the odds were going to be stacked against me, a cloudless Saturday afternoon, 90+ degrees, in the middle of a city…hmm. I arrived to find the pond abound with activity…of the human sort, small children swimming in the stream that feeds the pond, worm dunkers sitting on lounge chairs with their ice fishing rods propped up on sticks…I figured I’d at least try my luck. I started to walk around the pond and came across a shoal of 20 carp basking in the sun. I made a few casts, I got one look but spooked the majority on later casts. I found a group of three fish slowly making their way towards me, placed a cast…and out of nowhere my fly had disappeared in a flash. A largemouth had ruined my chances at gold…

I continued around the pond and spotted a single large fish with his head behind a small weed clump…I crept into position and took a cast. The cast fell 5 feet short of my mark…I thought it was over, the fish was slowly moving away and I thought it had been spooked. I delivered a second cast as he moved into a clearing in the weed bed. I watched my fly slowly parachute down, and gave it a small twitch. I watched the fish’s attention turn on my fly as it sank behind a weed clump…the fish cruised over, and I watched it's head go down and tail go up…I paused for a second…then set the hook. I was so excited to feel dead weight as the fish exploded into a run.

This day I had my buddy Phil along to watch me do my thing, and I had him carry my net. I usually don’t carry my net out of laziness, haha. My net has a built in scale and I was excited to get a weight on this fish because it was the largest carp I’d ever hooked.

One of a few runs

stalemate...

Come to me...

Victory!

So much for auto focus during an adrenalin rush...12lbs.

Exaggerated Reach...

New Personal Best...

One More

PA vs. DE

After four years of college at the University of Delaware, I graduated. Returning home I spent the summer fishing my favorite home waters with my fingers crossed for an interview. It never came. What came was an offer to teach back in Delaware at a relatively brand new school, so I jumped at the chance and I am extremely excited about it. So I moved back down to Delaware and officially have my own little flat back near my old stomping grounds at UD. Im glad to be in the area but the fishing isn't so great. I am missing the home waters. BIG TIME.

I Miss My Dogs Too.

So I moved to Delaware to teach and my brother moved from Baltimore to the Caribbean to teach. Adam remains in Pennsylvania. This River Is Wild is going to get pretty diversified over the next year. As for me, I need to find some alternative forms of fly fishing. I spent the majority of the day google earthing nearby lakes and ponds hoping to find some golden bones but my day long adventure produced nothing. I ended up heading to one of the nicest streams in Delaware: White Clay Creek. It got me thinking about my home water again so here is a comparison of the quarry and environment.

Pennsylvania: Limestone & Freestone Streams full of native and stocked trout.

Appalachia.

Stocked Brown.

The Bugs.

Wild Brown Stimulator (Adam).

Skinny Water Browns.

Aquashicola Rainbow.

Aquashicola Native.

Delaware: Sandy, Muddy, and Somewhat Freestone Streams full of fallfish, small smallmouth, sunfish and the occasional stocked trout who survived the summer.

Small Smallmouth.

Voracious Sunfish.

Freshly Caught Rope Swing That Went Along With The Homeless Women I Almost Stepped On Hopping Over a Fallen Tree.

Delaware Chubs Fight Hard.

And Are Plentiful.

Delaware Deer.

Heading Back Thinking About All The New Water That Lies Ahead & The Fall Stripers, Steelhead, and Browns That Await.

Celebrity

I got bored of trying to coax carp into taking sucker spawn and san juan worm patterns even though they can be highly productive patterns at times. I don’t know why it didn’t dawn on me earlier being a seasoned trout veteran and all, why not just match the hatch? I suppose I was reluctant to change from what had been working, I would occasionally use beadhead nymphs but I never dug deeper.

So…the night before I headed out I parked myself in front of my vise and created a hybrid of sorts between a damsel and dragon fly nymph, a size 10 and a size 8. I figured these fish must consume a lot of these critters, the weed choked pond is perfect habitat.

The Hybrid

The next morning I rigged up with the size 10 and started casting to bubbling mud plumes and then I spotted one munching on some debris a foot off shore. I placed my fly, twitched it, he took it. The fish made a powerful run and the slack line at my feet formed the infamous “Holy Shit Tangle”. The tangle flew through the first guide in my rod and stopped dead in the second. Let’s take a moment to thank Orvis for their Recoil guides…..So, now I’m down to one of my newest creations, I tied on the size 8 and went back to work. I picked off a few fish along the shoreline and decided to give the far shore a try. I spied one mudding about 70ft off shore making one hell of disturbance. I stripped off what seemed to be all of my fly line and attached a small black thingamabobber while estimating the water depth. I plopped my rig in perfect position, the indicator tweaked and I lifted what seemed like 100yds of fly line off the water for probably my most impressive hook set ever. The fish erupted in a huge boil and took off, 4 seconds later I seen by backing. After an exhausting battle I landed the monster, got resituated and moved 20 feet down the bank and repeated the process on another…2 for 2 baby…haha.

First Fish of The Day

Backing

Quick Self Portrait

Compliments of a nice girl walking by...

Biggest of the day

Still Holding Strong

Nice Lip Piercing

Last Fish of The Day

Oh yeah, there is purpose to the title of this post. So this one fish I hook into tares me into my backing, I mean this fish is movin’…it was actually on the opposite bank of the pond and this isn’t a small pond either. So there I am with my 5wt rod doubled over trying to do something about my situation and I notice that 2 cars on the road across from the pond actually pulled over and stopped to watch me, Haha. It made me laugh aloud, they stayed for the whole 15 min fight. Once landed, I felt obligated to hoist the fish up to present it to the crowd…so I did. One car gave the thumbs up and the other clapped, haha…ridiculous…I continued around the pond slaying tailers, cruisers, and even the occasional carp sunning itself on the surface (something I haven’t done before).

Towards the end of my outing I hooked into the largest fish of the day. As I’m there fighting the fish, a gentleman came up behind me and declared he had been driving by and seen the bend in my rod and turned around…haha. I looked at him and asked him if he would take a picture when I landed the fish, hahaha. Once I landed the big guy I took another stroll around the pond and caught a few more.

I drove home in disbelief, not at the people, but at how well this fly worked. It brought out the predator in these fish, they would chase down the fly and if they would lose it in the weeds I’d make a second cast and as soon as they seen it they’d shoot over and engulf it, I’ve never seen anything like it. The most fish I ever caught in one day out of this pond had been 3, this day I lost count at 15…

...best remember to strip-set from now on.

Tomorrow, I move to the British Virgin Islands with my girlfriend.  Surrounded by waters haunted by bonefish, barracuda, permit and tarpon will more than test my mediocre fly fishing skills.

I fully expect to see a ton of flies, leaders and, at least once, an entire fly line disappear into the depths hooked to the jaws of some of these sea monsters.  

Prepare for This River Is Wild to take on a little bit of a different flavor in the coming year.  After fishing together for an entire summer, we've now got one member stationed near some seriously prime striper territory around Delaware and Maryland, one member smack in the middle of some of the best trout water in Pennsylvania and one of us living in the caribbean for the next two years.

As soon as I get my feet on the sand I'll be scouting for rolling tarpon, tailing permit and silvery shadows streaking across the flats.  I could not be more pumped for this opportunity.  More to come as soon as I tie-in to one of these saltwater slammers.

Image: http://sanddollaradventures.wordpress.com/2009/02/03/mexico-beach-report-of-customs-customs-and-a-toothy-smile-that-got-me-all-excited/

Adam's Koi.

What happens when you finally catch some elusive bones at the canal? 

A full sail barrage of derogatory comments intended for no one but yourself and the resident wildlife. Vintage Adam.

Warning: Video contains strong language...

The Trials & Tribulations of a Carp Addict.

Over the course of this summer I have developed what I can only describe as a "carp addiction". Everyday all I thought about was the next time I would go carp fishing with a fly rod in an attempt to fool, hook, and land a bigger and stronger carp than the previous trip. There was one point when all I would tie and focus on was trout. Those flies picked up dust... and I began to tie contraption upon contraption in an attempt to fool that next elusive carp. I sought out new carp water and discovered the holy grail. An expansive lake teeming with large carp who presented enough of a challenge to skunk you one day but every once in awhile give you that day where everything comes together and the reels would sing. This new water only fueled my passion for even more carp action. I sought out greater challenges and I eventually found the greatest challenge of all.

The canal along a local river presented me with some graduate school carp action. It holds some giant carp that would produce goose gumps and shaky knees whenever they would turn to look at a presentation. Those moments came a long once every few trips while in between I experienced some of the most frustrating and difficult angling I have ever faced. Carp are known as the smartest freshwater game fish and rightfully so. Their smell is said to be near a hundred  times as powerful as that of our four legged friends and they have three different ways of  hearing and sensing our every move, including one that is entirely unique to carp. When one senses danger, they release of pheromone that lets every carp in the vicinity know that someone or something is near and a threat. That means that before I even see that carp I am targeting on a silly little fly rod, they know I am there, they can probably smell me, and they are telling all their brothers and sisters that this young gun on the bank is trying to fool me with this weird contraption that resembles something I may or may not have eaten before. 

The canal is a heavily trafficked area. Once that first runner or bike comes trudging down the canal path at 5:30 a.m. the carp who came out to feed overnight take flight back to cover. All before anyone even knows they were there. From that moment on, until almost the cover of darkness they experience pressure from spinning anglers, guys with bow and arrows, swimming dogs, ducks, geese, thrown rocks, trains, cars, and until recently the estranged fly fishermen. 

So once you decide that you need to catch a canal carp, you need to find a time period when they haven't been pressured by any of the above. You have to spot them in a deep canal bed that is extremely murky, and you have to find them while they are feeding or else you stand zero chance. Putting all these factors together, your chance of successfully finding an ideal situation where you even have a shot is miniscule. Once you find that shot, you then have to (as the new Drake Mag gloriously describes) go into Kung Fu mode and sneak into the ideal spot without somehow giving away your position. You then have to produce a cast amidst poison ivy, thorns, overhanging trees, and goose shit. All with the hope that the carp is is the deaf kind that can't sense your fly line, leader, and fly hit the water. The carp then must decide that your fly is edible and take it in full. Once he takes it, you must be quick because he knows that shit he just consumed is not real and will spit it out in under a second. You have to have a fast trigger hand. On top of all this ridiculousness, thousands upon thousands of mosquitos are ripping you apart seemingly immune to 100% deet. 

This summer I had one goal in mind; to fool one of these carp. I had my shot at canal carp glory. The stars all aligned after hours upon hours of failures. The 20 pounder was feeding at dusk and amidst a thick gloom, I made the cast. It was perfect. He took my fly and in that split second I messed up. 3x was a big mistake. He took off like a bat out of hell and took all his buddies with him in a violent symphony of thrashing water. My lone shot of the entire summer was gone with my only condolence being the mosquito boaring into my forehead and the mere fact that the "Hoss" had just tasted steel.

Sharing The Love

Today I decided to take our good friend Matt “Krupa” out fly fishing. Krupa has only fly fished once in his life, like six years ago when Mark and myself took him out. So anyway, I call up Krupa and wake him up from his nap to propose that he join me in a afternoon of fishing…who could refuse…

We get down to the stream and I start to explain the "dos and don’ts" and I decided to take a cast to demonstrate. I told him, “You see that current break, that’s where they’ll be…”. I proceeded to lay down my Dry-Dropper rig in the current break across stream. I said, “You see how the fly line in the fast current is dragging the dry fly?…” With that I threw in a mend and produced instant dead-drift. Then I said, “Now that I created a dead-drift, you need to pay attention to the dry fly, if it goes under or stops…pull.” Within a second of saying this, the dry fly took a plunge, I said, “like that…..” and set the hook. I had to laugh…Krupa just stood amazed as I handed him the camara.

Casting...I mean, Catching Demonstration.

After I produced a trout on my first cast I felt quite guilty…I handed Krupa my magic wand started guiding him. Krupa’s casting skills are pretty good for someone who only held a fly rod once before. With this Krupa remembered the current break and laid down a cast. As the dry fly approached, I explained how to high-stick…and towards the very end of the drift the dry fly slipped under the surface. “Pull”…and a miss. Krupa’s second cast proved better reflexes. I must say I was pretty pumped when I helped land Krupa’s first trout of the day. As the afternoon went on, Krupa landed three or four trout and a feisty rockbass. The Highlight of the day was when Krupa was following me across the stream and all I heard was water thrashing violently behind me, I turned around to find Krupa getting to his feet with a shit grin on his face, Haha. To his offence I had him wear my flats boots that were five sizes too big and not too good at limestone stream navigation, haha…looked like he was wearing flippers.

Fighting with Flippers...

Victory

I'll take another

Rockbass Face

Good thing Krupa was on the Swim Team

A Little Spill Doesn't Stop Krupa...

Action Pose

Soaking Wet + Trout = Good Times

This Happened to Every Single Fish, Haha

All in all you can't beat a day on the water with friends...