Not All Carp Species are Equal

Steve, Cinda and I couldn’t travel far from the big city today because I had to do my presentation for Desert Fly Casters tonight. That didn’t hinder our fishing at all because the lakes in and around the city limits of Phoenix Arizona have plenty of fish. Most of them have bass, sunfish, crappie and various carp species. It’s the grass carp (white Amur) that I like to fish for. Grass carp are Asian fish frequently stocked throughout the southern United States to trim aquatic vegetation that often grows in lakes. It seems the hotter the climate the quicker vegetation grows so almost every lake in the Phoenix area has a population of grass carp.

Grass carp (I call them grassies) are very hard to catch on the fly unless you have experience with them. I remember speaking at the ISE Show in Phoenix over ten years ago and noticed the peculiar looking fish in  a pond behind my hotel. I had a 5-weight with me (I always do) and thought I’d waltz right out there and catch one. Fat chance! I fished them for five straight mornings and only landed one. He was worth it though as he would have topped 15lbs and was the grassie that got me hooked on the species for life.

With few exceptions, grass carp fishing is all sight fishing. You must creep along the edge of these lakes and hunt them. Grassies are extremely spooky and will sink to the deep if they see you. If you are lucky enough to see them first, observe them. Happy grass carp ease their way along inches below the surface and rise to almost every piece of plant life they see. With that in mind, greenish dry flies work best. Being that plant life comes in every shape and size imaginable, I don’t get too concerned about the pattern itself. I have done excellent with olive grasshoppers. Once I know the direction my grassie is traveling in I try to land my cast about 6 inches in front of his nose. I want him to see it land and think a leaf just blew out of a tree. There are definitely times when the grassie spooks but often they move to it ever so slowly. Now for the part you won’t believe. While some do sip the hopper like a trout, be ready to watch the grassie nibble on  a leg and gradually work the rest of the fly into his mouth. Don’t set until you’re sure the hook is in there. As soon as you see that, strike hard.

We got up around 6 am today and made our way to a group of lakes that have plenty of grass carp. I could hardly wait. These particular lakes are also stacked with koi and have few common carp. I rigged up my 5-weight Ross with a floating line and a 12-foot 3X Rio leader. I tied on one of my green grasshoppers and walked out to the first lake. These lakes are true urban lakes. They all have sidewalks and houses completely around them.

At first I stood and looked around. The one thing I didn’t want to do was spook a grassie by hastily walking down the sidewalk. Right away I noticed some koi mulling around. The koi rarely rise to a dry fly so I gazed  beyond the koi still hoping to see a grassie. Steve and Cinda made their way to me and saw that I was rigged for grass carp not koi. Steve dropped a cast with his nymph to the nearest koi. The koi looked but then slid into some deeper water where we could no longer see him. We walked this pond together and continued to see many koi and a few common carp but the grassies were hiding. Perhaps it wasn’t hot enough yet. Steve and Cinda got numerous shots at koi but most were not participating. Finally, Steve hooked and landed the first fish of the day, a very lightly colored common carp. By the time I snapped a few pictures of Steve and his fish Cinda hooked up to a koi. That was it. The bite was on. Due to the lack of a grass carp sightings I took off my hopper and tied on a nymph. The three of us proceeded to catch numerous koi in every color imaginable during the next three hours. I even caught a strange looking fish that may have been a koi/common carp hybrid.

Gradually, we began to see some grass carp. Grassies don’t eat the nymphs anything like the koi do so to catch one I had to change back to my green hopper. This was a tough thing to do because koi fishing was red hot and a lot of fun. I made the change though and then like you’d expect, I couldn’t find another grassie to save my life. I walked five ponds in the next two hours and never made a single cast to a grass carp. Meanwhile, Steve and Cinda kept reeling in the koi.

I was about to give up and switch back to a koi rig when Cinda suggested we walk to some spots where she recently saw some nice grassies. By now it was easily 95° and very windy. Weeds and other debris often accumulate on the windy sides of these lakes and attract the grass carp. Sure enough the first spot we went had a pod of grassies nestled under such debris. The problem was there was so  much debris I couldn’t land my fly where the grassies could see it. It was useless. We kept walking and at last we spotted several grassies floating high and happy. Cinda generously stepped aside and let me have at them. I landed my hopper just in front of a cruiser and he moved to my fly. Then just as I thought his mouth was going to open and take I my fly he spooked by exploding at the surface. I think he freaked out because he knew at the last second it was a fake and realized how close he came to being caught. I was extremely disappointed assuming he likely spooked every grass carp around. But luckily that wasn’t the case. Two more grassies were slowly meandering my way looking for their next meal. I picked the larger of the two and once again dropped my fly six inches in front of his nose. Again the fish moved to my fly only this grassie opened his mouth and chomped it. I waited for the huge mouth to shut the door on my fly and  struck with authority. Mr. Grassie was on!

Grass carp are not only hard to fool. Once hooked up they put up a battle. It would be nice to have a 7 or 8- weight rod for this part, but heavy rods just can’t provide the finesse needed for the initial presentation. So you just take your time, steer them from any structure that they could snag you on and hope they give up. That’s exactly what I did and eventually I was lifting a quality grassie from the pond. Success!

Tomorrow we are bass fishing so I’m thrilled that I landed my grass carp today. These guys really are a favorite of mine and being that they like the heat, we don’t have them near home. Shortly after the fun catch, we packed it up so we’d have time to clean up and set up for my presentation for Desert Fly Casters.

My presentation was called “Fly Fishing Through Midlife Heaven” and was a collage of my top fishing trips that have occurred since I left my day job at the fly shop last October. This was a new show for me and I’m pleased to say the show went great before a large crowd. If any of you ever need a presenter for your club or Trout Unlimited banquet keep me in mind. I offer numerous presentations that you can choose from my website and there are instructions on how to book me. Keep an eye on the presentation list as I’m always keeping it up to date. Soon I’ll have a great one on how you too can succeed with the various carp species on a fly.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

Wildlife Viewing Turns to Fishing

October 5-6, 2010

Granny and I had big plans of doing a two day float this week. However, the weather called for cold temperatures and a mix of rain and snow. That’s not exactly fun floating and camping weather so we bagged it. We decided to do our annual fall trip to Yellowstone National Park earlier than normal and perhaps in two weeks Indian summer will return so we can do our two day float.

Despite great fall fishing in Yellowstone, our fall trip is really about the wildlife. I always pack a rod but it’s a great time to watch and hear the bull elk bugle and observe a grizzly or two fattening up for hibernation. We left the house late yesterday and didn’t even enter the Park until noon. We entered through Yellowstone’s South Gate and made a quick stop on the banks of an old favorite river of mine to eat some lunch. At this point the weather wasn’t so bad. It was overcast with a light drizzle but the temps remain unseasonably warm so we broke out the camp chairs and ate on the bank of this great river.

When I used to fish this river religiously, fall fishing was never worth it. I rarely found risers and that’s what is what this place is all about. But naturally as we chomped away on our sandwiches I instinctively watched for rises. Twice while I was looking away I thought I heard one. My head turned quickly and the surface was broken. But on this river, thermals, common in Yellowstone, often create these sounds and appear like a rise. I wasn’t sold that this disturbance was a trout.

I kept a watchful eye and sure enough I witnessed the disturbance. Indeed it was a rising trout. Naturally I had to try and catch him. This place is tough to fool a trout on a summer day with high water. In October the water is low and clear and yesterday the surface was like glass. Granny saw me stuff my last four bites of sandwich in my mouth as one and as I trotted to the car for my rod she rolled her eyes and told me I was wasting my time.

Getting humbled by a trout has never been a waste of time. If I failed I’d only be better next time. It was warm enough I didn’t need my waders and my 4-weight Ross still had the 18-foot leader and Mahogany Dun fly from Friday on the Henry’s Fork. I was ready to go with hardly any effort needed.

On still water like this, the trout has all the advantage. One bad cast or even a hasty false cast for that matter will send the trout running. With that in mind, I measured my distance with some false cast far away from the occasionally rising fish then crept into position. Then as I held my fly with the line stripped off ready to cast, I waited for the trout to rise one more time. He did and with one swift false cast I landed my fly exactly a foot above the rings of the rise. I held my breath as my fly drifted to the trout’s location and sure enough he munched it. I lifted gently and the battle was on.

Granny seemed very impressed and quickly fired up the camera. We had it handy because I was taking some pictures of October caddis flies during lunch. Then after a several jumps and a solid run I beached the sizeable brown trout. I was really surprised. A lunch break turned into a one cast one fish deal on a normally difficult river. Very cool stuff! After I released him I plopped back in my chair for desert, dark chocolate.

That was the only fish we saw from the lunch spot and being that fishing was not our priority I didn’t look for anymore. Instead we continued our journey north towards Lamar Valley and Cooke City, Montana, our final destinations for the day. Of course we did peek at a couple more rivers along the way. One was the Yellowstone River at the once called Buffalo Ford area. For more than twenty-five years I’ve never drove passed this spot without stopping to look for rising Yellowstone Cutthroats but yesterday there were none. Unfortunately the Yellowstone River in the Park has its problems these days and can often resemble the Dead Sea.

An hour later we made our turn from the Tower Falls area up towards Lamar Valley. Five miles into it after navigating through herds of bison you pass the turn into Slough Creek. This is another spot I don’t drive past without a stop. We drove the dirt road up towards the Slough Creek Campground and stopped at every spot where you can see the river. It was close to sunset. The temperature was dropping and there was a stiff breeze. It was far from ideal conditions for seeing rising fish. Then, unexpectedly we viewed a pool that had several feeding fish in a sheltered slick. There was just enough sun poking through the clouds that you could see we were in for an amazing sunset. Granny wanted to set out the chairs to watch it so I opted to wader up.

My rod was still rigged perfectly so I set out. Like the fish at our lunch spot, Slough Creek trout don’t give in easily in October. They have had tons of pressure and are skeptical of even the real bugs hatching from the water. Nonetheless, yesterday was obviously my day because on my first cast I hooked up. My fly simply bobbed in the wind chop for about five seconds and then got devoured by a nice Yellowstone Cutthroat. I landed him while Granny watched and shook her head with a smile. Wow! I released him then cast it out again and to my disbelief hooked up again. This time I landed a big cuttbow (cutthroat/rainbow hybrid). That was it. Three casts and three great fish. No sense in pushing it. I reeled in and grabbed a seat next to Granny for the sunset.

We finished the day by watching a black bear forage amongst some logs and then during the last glimmer of daylight we watched a grizzly sow and her cub along Soda Butte Creek. We grabbed some dinner at the Miner Bar in Cooke City then camped just outside of town. Due to the numerous grizzlies in the area there is no tent camping allowed so we slept in the back of the truck.

We got an early start this morning in hopes to view some wildlife but it was so foggy we could barley see the road. The morning remained foggy until 11 and by then we were long past Lamar Valley (our favorite bear area) and all the way to Gibbon River meadows. This is another favorite haunt of mine so I parked and walked out to the river. I couldn’t believe it. There was a blue winged olive hatch and fish rising everywhere. I ran back to the car and for a third time grabbed my already rigged 4-weight and headed out for a few fish.

I fished for about two hours. I must have caught twenty gorgeous little brown trout all on the same Mahogany Dun I’ve used all week. It was some of the best dry fly fishing I’ve had all season long. Granny and I finished the day with our three hour drive home through West Yellowstone and down through Idaho. In case you didn’t know by now, I’m a hard core baseball fan and the drive went quick as we listened to Roy Halliday's historical no hitter. Sometimes it’s the unplanned fishing days that are the best. Not just the fishing but everything that occurs during the day. This weekend was a prime example.

Expect me to be idle the next few days as I prepare to speak at Desert Fly Casters in Arizona next week. The good news though is that I will be fishing while in Arizona and should have some good bass, carp, crappie and etc fishing stories and photos to share soon.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

The Grind

September 12, 2010

Day 2 in the Jackson Hole One Fly is where you need to make things happen. With our team in 2nd place we wanted to make the move forward and win the One Fly. Realistically, all each of us needed to do was have a slightly above average day. This sounds easy, but isn’t. Out of four anglers one could simply lose their fly, pick the wrong fly or just plain and simple, have an off day. I had pressure on me to perform. I drew the South Fork and it typically produces higher scores. While average on the Snake River is about 250 points, average on the South Fork is about 350 points. I really needed to make sure and break 400.

Deciding what fly to use was difficult again. Originally I planned to fish a streamer, but streamers are risky. Indeed the streamer paid off yesterday, but risk wasn’t such a factor as our team wasn’t in 2nd place yesterday. You can easily snag a streamer on unseen sunken tree branches or a rock and your fly is gone. The other thing about streamers is that when the fish aren’t on them, you could get skunked. Either way, if I didn’t come back today with a full card I’d hurt the team.

I arrived at the South Fork Lodge for breakfast at 6:15 am. This is where our guides and boat mates meet up for the South Fork. I had breakfast with good friend Mike Lawson. Mike too was in the One Fly and was also spinning about what fly to use. He also scored well on the Snake River yesterday and knew a good South Fork score would help his team and perhaps move him into high individual standings. Taking the pressure off us, we both decided we’d leave our fly choice up to our guide.

When my fly fishing guide Mike Bean arrived at the breakfast table he didn’t exactly tell me what fly to use. He too was torn. He’s seen me hammer fish on streamers and would do anything to see it today, but today the weather was crisp and clear and temperatures were expected to reach 77º. Streamer fishing on the South Fork can be slow I such conditions. With a small Pale Morning Dun dry fly he was sure I could fill my measured fish card. That is if I could keep the fly all day without losing it and hope that it didn’t fall apart. Both are major concerns with a small fly. Then we met my boat mate Scott. Scott was set on fishing a small dry fly. That was it; I too would go with a size 18 Pale Moring Dun Parachute Cripple.

Mike Bean is one of the best South Fork River guides and he had a plan. He pushed us away from the Spring Creek Boat Ramp at 8:15 and rowed like a mad man so that we would be in a good dry fly spot at exactly 8:30. Like yesterday, it was cold as heck and thick frost blanketed everything. When we got to Mike’s spot it was too cold. Not a fish stirred and even blind casting to where we knew fish lived did not entice a rise.

Fortunately, as the sun rose so did the thermometers. Today was going to be another September day of dreams. Scott and I simply had to be patient with our small flies. If the trout weren’t awake yet there was no sense in casting them to the banks and risk loss and add unnecessary wear and tear. With the exception of a few riffles we relaxed, held our flies and waited for the first insects to hatch.

It took longer then we expected. At 10:30 neither of us had one point on our score cards. There were no bugs and no rising fish. It was plenty warm enough by now. I was in shorts and a t-shirt and I was hot. Where were the fish? Mike remained cool and rowed us to his next spot. Sure enough there was our first  rising fish of the day. Scott and I were rotating the front of the boat each hour and it happened to be my turn. I studied the fish’s rises for a minute then delicately landed my cast. My presentation was poor compared to a normal day. The reason being that I was attempting to fish my tiny dry fly on 2X Rio Powerflex Tippet. On any normal day of fishing I’d have a size 18 dry fly attached to 4X or perhaps even 5X. But this was the One Fly Contest; I wasn’t going to risk fishing with a light tippet this early in the day. I flipped a couple mends in my fly line to help my stiff looking fly along and to my delight up came a gorgeous Yellowstone Cutthroat to consume it. I set the hook and like a normal day in paradise the fish was on and I brought the 16” trout to the net. Yes, I had my first fish of the day.

I was set to measure the trout. He was easily 16 inches and would score me 60 points, but Mike had bigger fish in mind. Somehow he talked me out of measuring the fish and accepting him as a mere 2 pointer. Wow! I was hesitant, but I picked the fish from the net and released him without measuring him. Then I plucked my fly up from the net and was just about to drop it and roll cast it out again to start fishing when I saw my PMD was not attached to my leader. My tippet had broken in the net! My heart dropped and a feeling of near disaster overtook me. When I told Mike what happened he nearly went into shock too.

I had work to do. Somehow I damaged my tippet earlier in the morning and didn’t know it. I cut the entire piece off and carefully tied on another with a triple surgeons knot. It took much longer than normal as my hands were shaking. Then I leaned back in my chair with my fly tightly clenched in my left hand and took a breather while Scott made some casts to some more rising fish. That was a close call.

Ten minutes went by and Scott wasn’t getting it done. Several fish rose to his fly but he missed each one. Mike asked me if I was finally ready. I was still rattled, but I made my cast and quickly hooked up. I landed another gorgeous 16” cutty. And once again, Mike talked me into taking him as a mere 2 point fish. I was a little uneasy letting these 16 inchers go without measuring them for bonus points. I knew all I needed was 400 points to help my team. What if now after I let these guys go I didn’t fill my card, or worse, lost my fly?

I missed the next three quality fish that ate my fly. It seemed my luck was taking a turn for the worst. It was after 11 when finally I hooked up again. Although I was relieved, this wasn’t a gentle fighting cutthroat but rather a scrappy rainbow. The bow leaped twice and then took off for the middle of the river and dove for bottom. I had little control. I knew he was down deep looking for trees to snag me on and rocks to grind my tippet against. It was really gut wrenching. At last, the fish gave in and Mike netted the rainbow. Enough is enough I said to Mike, measure that fish. I was just too uncomfortable without a bonus point fish on the board. He measured the rainbow and sure enough he was 16 inches on the nose.

I continued to miss fish but managed to pick up two more bonus point trout so that by 1:00 I had two 16 inchers and a 17 incher on the measure card along with several two point fish. I had three more hours to reach 400 points. Unfortunately Scott still sported a zero. He just wasn’t connecting at all. When Scott returned to the front of the boat Mike worked hard by coaching him while he fished to a pod of risers. It went on for fifteen minutes or so while I patiently watched from the back of the boat. It just wasn’t happening for Scott. Then in one swift move Mike spun the boat and said Jeff take a shot. I whirled a false cast straight up in the air as not to hook anything in the boat and as I went forward I felt my fly burry into  something high above us. It was a cedar tree branch dangling a good 30-feet above the river. Disaster had struck.

As the three of us tracked my fly line and leader up to the cedar branch there was dead silence. It was worse than initially thought. The branch was a snarled mess of twigs and needles high above the boat. You could follow my leader with your eyes but the fly was buried out of sight. By now Mike had the anchor dropped and was heading up the bank as if to just climb the tree and undo the mess. But it wasn’t so easy. This was a big tree extending off a cliff like bank and the first branch to grab for climbing was 10-feet up.

I handed my rod to Scott and headed up to the base of the tree where a bewildered Mike Bean stood with a very sad look on his face. I simply asked him for ten fingers and up I went to where I could grab that first branch. Using complete adrenaline, I swung my legs up and started to wiggle my way through closely knit branches high into the tree. Once I thought I was at the branch my fly was on, I asked Scott to pull tight to my fly. Soon I was scaling my way out over the river on this branch. But there was no way. I was out as far as I dared. The branch dipped down and swayed side to side as if it were about to snap. If the branch broke from under me I’d fall 30-feet onto jagged river rock. All I could see was my 2X Rio Tippet tightly wound and snagged deep in a cluster of branches about 8-feet from my reach. I was absolutely screwed.

Our first move was to try to reach it with the net. Mike threw it up to me and even it got tangled in the branches. This was not the tree to mess with. At last I got it and pushed it towards the end of the branch where my fly was. It was a useless operation. As I sat there uncomfortably and discouraged as you could be, I gazed at the anchor rope in the boat below me. That was it. If it was long enough I could tie it to this branch and from the ground we could pull on it until it snapped. It was a long shot, but the only shot.

Mike and Scott had to be shaking their heads by now, but Mike went through the trouble to disconnect his anchor. I hung like a monkey from my knees and Mike threw me the rope. I wrapped it around the branch so we had two ends of the rope to pull on and our last hope was underway. I climbed down and stood in the boat with my rod while Mike, a good sized man, pulled the rope. At first the branch was like a rubber band, it just wouldn’t break. Mike was actually getting tired of bouncing on that rope. Then without any hint at all the entire 300lb branch came crashing down on Mike and I. Once we realized no one was hurt we cheered and laughed. We had made a historic fly rescue.

My fly still wasn’t easy to find. It was tangled in there so bad that we never could have retrieved it by pulling my tippet. I was drained. I was scratched up, stressed out and plopped in the back of the boat and drank a beer. Now I had less than two hours to catch at least three more measurable fish. And poor Scott still hadn’t caught a single fish. Worst of all the trickle of a hatch we had earlier was all but gone. Things were ugly.

I felt terrible that I put my boat mates through such drama. I drank another beer and just sat and watched as Scott drifted his PMD along the bank while Mike back rowed. I wanted to fish but Scott needed to catch one first. There were absolutely no randomly rising trout. About then Scott buried his fly in the back of my neck. I let out a yelp. I don’t care what you say; even a small fly in the neck hurts. The One Fly is a barbless tournament so I reached up and carefully grabbed it and attempted to jerk it out. Unfortunately the flattened barb wasn’t flattened all the way and the skin on my neck stretched out an inch and snapped back putting the fly deeper into my neck. It was in there good. Scott felt terrible. I told him no big deal and Mike pulled over and with his forceps made a nice clean rip and the fly was out. Mike said it was time to check on his pets so while I soaked up a little blood with my t-shirt off we went to the cliffs of the South Fork Canyon.

There’s always a few cooperative fish at the cliffs. Scott tucked a cast into the first cave and wham, he had his first fish of the day and it was 15”. I was glad to see Scott on the board. As they measured I snuck my own cast back in the cave and I landed a 17” cutthroat. Things were looking up again. I only needed two more fish of 16 inches to rally for 400 points.

Let’s just say the last hour was a grind. Scott all but gave up on the day. It was hot. There was no hatch. Most of Mike’s pets were hiding. Things were bleak. I felt I didn’t deserve it, but Scott gave me the front of the boat again. For the last 45 minutes or so I made risky cast after risky cast. Sometimes I tossed my tiny PMD against the willows in fast water while other times I side armed so far back under trees that if I got hung we’d never find the fly. And it paid off. I went on to fill my card and my measurables included three 16” and three 17” trout. I also had sixteen two pointers and by miracle, kept my fly for another 25 point bonus. It was one of the toughest competition days I can remember but I grinded out 460 crucial points.

My poor boat mate landed only one fish. He wasn’t alone. Although there were a few fantastic scores on some fancy ant, many on the stretch did not fill their cards. This included Mike Lawson who hooked and lost a nice fish in the last minutes of the contest. When I arrived in Jackson after my near two hour drive from the South Fork Canyon, the scores were in. The Good Times Team had dropped to fourth place. Gary lost his fly before catching a fish today and our other anglers had a tough day. There was some good news though. Gary’s big 23 ½” brown from Day 1 earned him the big fish trophy and my grind of both days earned me third place individual. All our practice earned us something. It was a great One Fly and next year perhaps we can take the next step and the Good Times Team can win it all.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

Big Lake Big Pike

June 6, 2010

Morning came rather quickly in Saskatchewan, Canada. We did not get to bed until after 2 am last night. We fished till midnight then we were so keyed up after catching our biggest pike of the trip that we couldn’t stop talking about it. At 6 am lodge manager Phil woke us up with hot coffees in hand. I could barley see straight. I was already tired from Pagato, but now having less than four hours of sleep – I was hurting bad. But I heaved myself from the bed and chugged the coffee. Then we had a great breakfast and met our guides at the dock at 8. 

Today is the first day of the season for Lawrence Bay Lodge. The ice left Reindeer Lake only two weeks ago. Chris and I fished with a guide named Nelson. Nelson is an Indian that was born and raised on Reindeer Lake. His grandfather, a man that lived to an astonishing ninety-eight, guided here for sixty-seven years! You could tell Nelson was going to be excellent right from the get go. We pushed off from the dock and he informed us we had an eighteen minute drive to his first spot. He was talkative and gave us info on this huge lake and about growing up in the remote area. I enjoy getting the rundown on more than just the fishing. 

Once again the weather was incredible. Here we are this far north and it’s nicer than it’s been back home. If you look at Reindeer Lake on the map you will see that it is enormous. I would expect such a monster lake this far north to be windy at all times. This morning it was so calm it was like glass. However, although the sun shined bright, the ice cold water of the lake made for a cold ride and I couldn’t wait for our speedy run to be over. When we got to the place I stood on the bow and looked around. It was a shallow bay and I could barely see bottom. As we drifted further in it shallowed up nicely and I could see weeds. The back of the bay was ridden with lily pads and sunken trees. This had high potential. 

On my fourth cast with a huge chartreuse bunny streamer I got jolted. I was so used to the Pagoto Lake hammer handle pike that when this fish started peeling line I barely remembered what to do. When I was able to hoist back on the brute I was delighted to see a fish of at least 36”s! About then Chris shouted he had one also and a few minutes later we were both releasing pike larger than we’d seen the entire trip.

We probably landed ten pike from that first spot. Most of them were about 33” – 35”s long. Generally, a 35” pike is close to 10lbs. This was incredible fishing! Nelson took us from bay to bay and we caught at least several pike over 30” each time. 

As the sun got higher we began to see the pike. I saw a gargantuan pike slowly swimming along the bottom. He was aware of us and would have nothing to do with my fly. A minute later I spotted another big boy. This pike was pointed towards the bank as if waiting for a frog, bird or small mammal to make a mistake. I made a decent cast into the grass where he was facing and I could see him turn ever so slightly. Sure enough he slowly stalked my fly before picking up speed and devouring it. Landing a big pike with this many submerged trees in the water is a challenge. Luckily, when you fish on Reindeer Lake you fish heavy tippet with a foot of wire. My exact rig was a stout 30lb tippet attached to 40lb Rio Knottable wire. With my 9-weight Ross fly rod in hand I bullied the pike to the boat and avoided all the logs. Nelson (who forgot his net) reached over and wrestled the pike to where we both could lift him into the boat. It was a magnificent 39” monster! 

This may sound insane, but by days end Chris and I landed at least twenty-five pike over 30”s. Many of these were better than 36”s and Chris boated a 43”er! I love pike fishing anywhere I go, but after today, it will never be the same again. We ended our fishing promptly at 5 pm. It was tough to quit but the fishing hours at the lodge are from 8 am to 5 pm. Worse than that, it was the end of our trip. At 6 pm we got picked up by the float plane and enjoyed a bouncy twenty minute ride to Southend where we left the truck a week ago. Without wasting a minute we started our twenty-six hour drive. It’s now 3 am and we just left Saskatoon. I’m exhausted but I’m helping Chris spot the whitetail deer crossing the road. To the south it is dark like it is supposed to be at 3 am, but behind us to the north is the glow of the midnight sun. What an incredible trip! I already miss it but it’s time to go home. I have a bass fly fishing tournament on Thursday!

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing web site

Baldies, Beaves and More Good Fish

November 27, 2009

This is insane! A week ago winter set in but yet again disappeared. We floated the South Fork in Swan Valley Idaho once more and didn’t get even a flake of ice in the fly rod guides. Float fishing and ice-less stripping guides should have been a thing of the past three weeks ago, but our season keeps going and going and going . . .

The weather was mostly cloudy with temps reaching about 42 degrees. There wasn’t a breath of wind and when the sun occasionally broke through it felt like 50. You wouldn’t expect a better day in early October.

I fished with Tom Montgomery, whom I introduced in my November 24th report. We expected a third to join us, Andy Asadorian, but not only did Andy not show up but we didn’t even hear from him. A little weird but it’s a fact. And when a fishing partner drops out at the last minute, fishing is always good. Today was no exception.

Despite a late start of noon, Tom and I agreed upon a goal of twenty fish to the boat. That was a bit eager, and although that didn’t quite happen, we managed fifteen. We floated from Husky, also known as Palisades Creek launch to the highway bridge. This is about a nine mile float and with dark setting in by 5pm these days there’s no time for stopping. This meant a constant drift with the most effective method of fishing, stripping streamers. I used my usual rig of several streamers on straight 0X Rio Flouro-Flex Plus tippet. Normally my best streamer color on the South Fork is olive, but today the black and silver screamer streamer knocked them dead. It was an even mix of rainbows, browns and cutthroat. Although we caught at least one quality fish of each specie, our nicest fish was a cutthroat. What was amazing about this cutthroat (in photo), while I was fighting him he spit up an 8” white fish! Impressive!

Fishing was so good today I forgot to mention the wildlife. November on the South Fork never disappoints. I’ll guess we saw hundreds of ducks and swans, at least five bald eagles, a family of beavers and a whitetail.

That’s about enough for now. Supposedly it’s going to snow and get nasty tonight, but with all this talk I’m going back to the SF tomorrow!

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