Meat Bingo

The trials and tribulations of the skellunge...

In my mind and memory I can pinpoint the exact moment a musky obsession rooted itself within the fabric of my soul. It was September, and up until that frame in time I was a very casual esox hunter, severely limited by my lack of knowledge and watercraft. Thanks to a good friend and his boat, I found myself riverside slinging musky meat into the unknown. We were several hours in and my forearm throbbed with every cast of the ten weight. As it does when you don't see any sign of aquatic life for several hours, your mind can wonder away from your stripping pattern to other obligations, wants, or needs. I literally wasn't paying attention at all to my fly approaching the boat, or the 50" inch musky casually following a few feet away. All I can tell you is that when my eyes affixed on the river dragon before me, all bodily motions seemed to slow to a halt. I stopped stripping and my jaw hung low as I struggled to reignite the synapses in my nervous system. When they re-engaged, I blurted out some words I cannot recall and hastily went into a poor ass rendition of a figure eight. Little did I know, but Betty (yea, she has a name) had already lost interest as she went parallel to the boat, and confidently drifted away into the glare. "DID YOU SEE THAT?!!!" Those are probably the only words I remember recalling mere milliseconds after the moment that changed the game as I know it. Experiences like that are relatively common for the musky noob, and I was definitely out of my element during my first few encounters with Esox masquinongy. That is the thing about musky. One can catch tarpon, stripers, or a giant barracuda but a fish of that size, in freshwater, is not only elusive, but mystical. I once joked that musky were my unicorn, but in reality, they are accessible to anyone willing to participate in a verifiable game of meat bingo...

The Fish of 2015

This past year was another solid year on the water for us. While we definitely fished fewer days than previous years, we made up for it by thoroughly enjoying every moment spent on the water in the company of great friends and family. We caught some unforgettable fish and banked some amazing memories in the process.

Highlights included:
-A trip to Wyoming full of many large trout, and some alpine brookies.
-First muskies
-Cape Town trout
-Another successful guiding season for Adam in Alaska and a meat eating 28" resident rainbow
-Katie catching a Great Lakes steelhead on the swing
-Carp, big carp, and bigger carp

We've put together our customary photo dump of memorable fish in somewhat chronological order.

Here's to a year of family, friends, great moments and cooperative fish.

Cheers!

Spey is the Way

A steelhead trip was planned for good ole Pulaski, NY on the banks of the famous Salmon River. The weekend excursion corresponded with the end of the salmon run and most of the leaves being gone from the trees, otherwise known as the second weekend in November. The time came quick, a product of life as a teacher and simultaneously going to graduate school full-time. On the night before, I found myself packing for two. My girl, Katie, would be joining me on the first trip north of the year. Scrambling through all of my possessions, I had a hard time finding a supply of egg patterns from several seasons earlier when I had an epiphany. Would she be more likely to enjoy the monotony and assembly line approach of chucking a bobber and an egg, or the creativeness of a spey cast and a swung fly? I stopped looking for the egg patterns, my bobbers, and a leader. I texted her with a few simple words: swing or go home.

Into the Winds

Bucket List

As the twenty four inch brown trout of my dreams descended into the depths of the river whence it came, it marked the end of one part of our journey and the beginning of another. My brother and I stopped at the nearest lake for a quick swim (shower), then raced a few hours to the nearest airport to greet my sister in law, Stacy, and my girl, Katie. Week two brought us further west and into the Wind River Range for four days of backpacking and fly fishing several high altitude lakes. Of all the things we planned to do on the trip, this was the one I was most looking forward to and it did not disappoint. It was truly bucket list material...

The One That Got Away

Hooking up with a big one...

Down in the Canyon

While we're still young, and maybe a little reckless, there aren't many topographical restrictions on our fly fishing. We'll ride, walk, hike, pack or descend to where the fish are without a problem. That willingness has taken us to some unforgettable spots, none more surprisingly awesome than a little canyon tailwater we targeted during a recent trip out west.

While dead-drifting tiny tricos to fat trout our gaze was pulled from the dimpled surface to a hazy canyon beckoning downstream in the middle distance, parting the mountains. Sheer cliffs were all we could really see as the gradient and an oxbow pulled the water out of sight, down and away.

Just inside the canyon entrance we found a wonderland of massive boulders, plunge pools and pocket water. This was our wheelhouse and we were about to put on a hopper-dropper clinic.

Trico Mania

Technical dry fly fishing...

Four days into the trip and nymphing was getting lame. We were yearning for some dry fly action and the trout weren't obliging us, or the millions of trico spinners floating down the river every morning. We ended up abandoning the most trout-rich river I'd ever laid eyes on for a chance at something different. We found it at a local meadow, where a portion of tailwater weaves through a ranch supported by plenty of stream side rehabilitation. The tricos were gathering for their last morning on earth and the trout were eagerly awaiting them in the gin clear water below...

Cherry Picking

Pick and Choose...

As the day wore on at nymphing mecca, we found the sun at our backs gave us an excellent view into the water column. Fish were stacked up along the bank gorging on midges. We decided to bust out the 5wts and do some sight-fishing from the elevated river bank for a change of pace.

So Easy a Caveman Could Do It

Not the brightest fish in the barrel...

On day three, we headed to a different tailwater that promised even better fishing than anything we had experienced thus far. After having fished this new tailwater, I can happily report that it is a little slice of fly fishing heaven. It featured an insane amount of fish, all large, healthy, and full of fight. It was not uncommon for their to be double, triple, and quadruple hookups going on at one time between my brother, the drift boats, and I. The guides on this river probably have one of the easiest jobs imaginable. It is literally so easy a caveman could do it...

Three Percent

A lovely snake river fine-spotted cutthroat...

After a full day of catching countless rainbows, we began to wonder about the trout population of the "Mile". Where were all of the browns and cutthroat that we were expecting? It wasn't until later on in the trip, and some research, that we found the statistics we openly questioned riverside. They were surprising in more ways than one...

The Land of Rainbows

The "Mile"

The plane arrived at midnight, mountain time in Wyoming. We were tired and didn't feel like stumbling in the dark to find a campsite. Naturally, we found a Walmart to buy some food, water, and a cheap cooler for the week. The parking lot served as our unpacking and sleeping quarters and it was two o'clock before we finally settled down in the little space remaining in our rental car. New water beckoned in the morning and the anticipation was high…

Wyoming

Grand Teton

It has been awhile since I've gone on a fly fishing trip that involved a plane ride to a place I've never been before. Over the past few years of being a homebody, I've stuck to my usual routines. A lot of that can be attributed to Adam beginning to guide in Alaska and my brother living in Africa for three years. With my brother having now moved back to the states, one of my two predominant fishing partners would be home for a summer of fishing. That alone was enough to light a little fire inside of me.

Carp Flies: Tying the Carp Crab

When I began targeting common carp in my local rivers and creeks, I wanted to design a versatile pattern to imitate one of their major food items: crayfish. I was looking for it to be an easy tie with a lot of movement that incorporated some of my favorite materials like schlappen and UV chenille. At the time, I was tying a lot of saltwater patterns for bonefish and permit and I really liked a pattern out of the northeast by Dave Skok called the Diablo Crab. It featured schlappen to create the wide flat body of a crab and the use of those feathers creates a lot of subtle movement on the strip or in any type of current. A very popular carp fly at the time was Mctage's Primordial Carp Stew and I used a few techniques on that fly to round out the fly that became known as the "Carp Crab".

The carp crab resembles a crab but is fished and does a great job of mimicking the profile and movement of a crayfish. When sinking or stripped, the schlappen collapses forming the profile of a darting crawdad. When stopped, the schlappen protrudes outwards and the fly performs a slight headstand resembling a crayfish in the defensive position. The fly is deadly fished on my home rivers of the Delaware and Susquehanna for carp. I've watched carp move over ten feet to take the fly and spin 180 degrees to turn around for second look and eat it. It is commercially available from Catch Fly Fishing and a step by step follows.

A Change of Pace

We all have our premier destinations we'd like to travel to. The ones that we day dream of at work or when releasing our ten thousandth eight inch trout. Most of mine involve an exotic saltwater locale, far off in some other ocean, with huge fish that decimate gear. These include GT's, triggerfish, permit, queenfish, milkfish, and the list goes on. One's mind can easily slip off to the Seychelles, Oman, or Papua New Guinea where these monsters reside. Alas, some of these places are just out of reach at the moment, or put on hold for later in life. Most of us average joe's are stuck with what we have in our own backyard. In my case, I've been ignoring my backyard for quite a few years now, content with my comfortable routines of trout, carp, and steelhead. In reality, my backyard offers some premier fishing destinations and dare I say it, "world class fisheries". So as the summer doldrums set in, I've been venturing out to see what I've been missing all these years.

Spring is for Carp

Gold

It begins slowly at first. The grip of winter casually dissipates and a few warm days get yours hopes up. You decide to check out the local hot spot and quickly realize that the lake is a huge chunk of ice that you can easily walk across. With hopes dashed, you realize there won't be action for quite some time. Much later, you arrive to find the lake only half covered in ice and you see your first mud plume of the year. A few sluggish fish that haven't seen your flies in months, come to hand in the cold water. Your car begins to smell like carp again. Road trips to other venues reveal that the season is on the precipice but the big fish are still lingering in the depths. Weeks go by and the temperature steadily climbs enough where you consistently have results. With the leaves budding, you venture out and find them en masse. It is a banner day marking the beginning of Spring and the fish that define it have finally arrived...