Is that a golf ball in your pocket, or are you just happy to be fishing…

I’ve tried my best to interest my son in fly fishing, thinking it was something we could enjoy together and an avocation I could pass down the family line. When there was some interest and eagerness early on, I bought him an Orvis 6 weight rod and reel outfit, a vest, waders, and took him on a few trips but after only a few ventures out, I could tell he just didn’t have “the passion”.  All of you die-hards know what I’m talking about – the mojo, moxy, and absolute drive to excel in something so much that time itself stads still.  Chris does, thankfully, fish with me at the shore on the party boats out of Barnegat Inlet for blues, fluke, and stripers.  It’s a tradition thing mostly, a father-son “bonding” event, if you will.  But at his age, if I had a backyard pond stocked with hungry bass, as exists now just 100 yards out the back door of STFF headquarters, I’d be bank-side every evening.  Chris has yet to wet a line there.

My wife and I have stood by him in his search for a hobby that would capture his mind and heart, one that would make use of his abundant talents, and possibly turn into a labor of love.  There was guitar, lacrosse, paintball, biking, and wrestling, but all of these things were like tossing gas on a fire, producing white-hot flames that burned out fast and left no enduring embers.  And then along came golf…

Chris picked up a driver like he did a fly rod, and in no time was clipping balls 225 yards.  He has natural talent of which most of us can only dream.  I remember once casting a new rod on the lawn of a local fly shop with him, back when I was trying to cuddle him up to the sport.  The owner bluntly told me that my son, at 13, cast better than I did, 10+ years into the game.

The hills of Apalachin - from the front 9...

So this past April we bought him a junior membership at a public course just a few hills over from where we live and ever since he started the “good walk spoiled”, a funny thing happened – I found golf balls wherever I fished.  It began with our pond, which wasn’t too surprising since Chris is constantly practicing on the lawn under our #1 ground rule, “away from the house – toward the pond”.  I’d paddle out on the pond and in the shallows, WAY down from where he’d tee off, see these white things down on the pond bottom.  Once I was fishing in the stillness of the evening, casting poppers, and nearly jumped out of the kayak when a big bass exploded only feet away.  Later, having returned from my back-yard expedition, a smiling Chris asked me how I liked his driving.

He could have been a fly fishing 'contendah'...

But soon after that, more golf balls appeared in remote and very un-golflike places.  I found one in the upper Susquehanna River near Windsor where the river is secluded in deep woods and vast tracts of farmland.  I found another in the Chemung, downstream from the towering dikes that shoulder the river from the town of Athens.  I found still more in the Tioughnioga and the lower Susquehanna, and most recently, of all places, in Cayuta Creek.

Going for birdie...

I would bring them back, every one of them, as proof…

Fresh from the cool mountain springs of Cayuta Creek...

Serendipity?  Chance?  Divine intervention?  Could it be the Big Man’s way of tying the seemingly disparate fires burning deep within us together?  I’ve pondered this at length, concluding that, chance discovery or bread crumbs from above, it is indeed a sign that these two great avocations can be shared over the years.  Next time Chris hits the links I think I’ll throw my 8 weight in the back of the golf cart.  There just have to be some real hawg bass in those beautiful water obstacles…

Tight lines…

Fat Nancy’s Philosophy…

This past weekend son #2 and I took a hike to the great white north.  I’m not talking Albany, Syracuse, or Rochester; I’m talking PULASKI, which, in Polish should translate to “the place where the snow flies” (actually, the village was named after General Casimir Pulaski of revolutionary war fame).  Son #2 is a hockey player, and his Bantam Travel “B” Team was to face off against the Salmon River Storm at 11:30 am that day.  We met only mild weather resistance on the trip north, which is a rarity.  In fact, once we passed snowy Syracuse, the skies cleared up but the bright sunshine did little to lift the frigid cold.  Indeed, when we left the southern tier the temp was an invigorating -1 degree F.

The village of Pulaski is famous for two things; fishing and snowmobiling.  Situated on the western edge of Lake Ontario, it receives an average of 175 inches (over 14 feet) of snow every winter, but of more interest to the STFLYFISHER clan is the village’s location on the Salmon River.  This geographical blessing makes it one of the best places, arguably THE best place in the lower 48, to catch big steelhead, monster king and coho salmon, and huge lake-run browns.

Back before Fat Nancy came to town...

We arrived in Pulaski, took the exit off Rt 81 North, and at the top of the exit ramp, ran smack dab into Fat Nancy’s on our way to the rink, and with just one look at the interesting name (followed by “tackle shop”), I knew I had to check it out after the game.

Fat Nancy's in warmer times - an oasis of fly gear, snacks, and gas in the midst of the great white north...

We drove through the sleepy village and immediately got a sense for how much snow this part of upstate New York receives.  The roofs of houses and stores were steeped high with the stuff, and the icicles were enough to make one think twice about passing under any roof overhang.  The rink in Pulaski was colder inside than it was outside, but it made for fast ice and a great game, as the Binghamton Senators filleted the Salmon River Storm 12-5.

After the game, we were to head south to Cortland for a 5:30 pm game and lunch en route, but I took a little detour to Fat Nancy’s under the fatherly auspices of picking up a candy bar for my exhausted hockey player and filling the car up with gas in case we ever got stuck in some abominable snow drift.

The greeter at Fat Nancy's...

Upon first entering Fat Nancy’s, you’re greeted by one hell of a king salmon, although legend has it that “Fat Nancy’ is not the mother of all king salmon, nor is she some gargantuan female tackle shop owner, burly and beard-growing, complete with camel hanging out of her yap, but instead, a huge sturgeon in Lake Ontario that has eluded anglers for years.  Regardless, this big king, hanging in all its glory for all to dream wistfully of bent fly rods and backing on the reel, is just one of many Salmon River trophies mounted as testament to how truly great the fishing is on the Salmon River.

If you get gas at Fat Nancy's, make sure you pay inside!

What happens after entry into this fly fisherman’s house of pleasure is sensory overload, as this tackle shop is more like a convenience store version of Cabelas than a Citgo Mini-Mart.  While the shop does cater to the hardware guys, ice fishermen, and trollers, there is a nice stand of G Loomis, Scott, TFO, and some lesser known brands of fly rods to piqué one’s interest.  Fat Nancy’s offers a broad steelhead / salmon fly selection along with a bountiful stock of line, terminal tackle, reels, waders, and clothing.  Browsing around, I quickly spied the ultimate big river steelhead rod – a 10′ / 7 weight Scott ARC for sale at half price.  I practically had to buy a hat just to catch the slobber that drooled from my mouth.

I picked up a chocolate bar for my very patient hockey player and stood at the counter while a big upstate good-ole-boy sidled up behind the cash register.  “Is that it?”, he bellowed, jowls swaying.  “Yes”, I responded, “although I sure would like to add that Scott ARC you have on sale, but the wife wouldn’t take too kindly to that”.  I chuckled a little, thinking some sympathetic comment would soon follow.  Instead I got a brash and baritone “tough sh*t”, followed by a lambasting that chastised my manhood and, would have put my tail between my legs if I had one.  “You work for that money, don’t you?”, he scowled, “you can do whatever the hell you want with it, that’s what I say”.  I grimaced and shriveled in the face of this dress-down and soon felt like I was looking up at the counter.  “If you want the rod, buy it, and if she don’t like it, tough sh*t”.  “Riiiiiigggghhhhhttttt…..”, as Dr. Evil would say.

I slithered out of the store, hockey player in tow, and thought long and hard about “the philosophy” as we sped down 81 to Cortland.  And the more I thought, the more I realized this guy had a point.  The counter-guy’s “pep” talk had truly given me a lift.  Carpe diem, seize the day, strike while the iron’s hot, go for it – the “talk” had convinced me, if nothing else, that Fat Nancy’s was far more than a tackle shop.  That week I had a new fly reel on order, with no apologies and nary a second thought, thank you very much.

Tight lines…

2010 Goals

It’s been a pattern of mine for years – spending a part of New Years Day camped out in a comfortable chair – fire softly burning in the fireplace – bourbon on the rocks or a dry gin martini within arm’s reach – and putting pen to paper, inking out my plan for the year ahead.

"Let's see, goal number one, improve shelter..."

Don’t get me wrong – this is not some quick exercise completed in one sitting – it is the final draft of a plan I start formulating well before the end of each year.  I start with the big picture, or as Stephen Covey would put it, “begin with the end in mind” – and gradually break my goals down into reasonable objectives for the year ahead.  It’s a cherished process, and one that causes me to not only herald accomplishments, but recognize failures.  Best of all, it helps me, in Stephen Covey’s words, to “be proactive”.  By acting positively on past failures, I choose to respond rather than react.  Put another way, I can gripe and wail about not being able to cast well, OR, I can recognize my shortfalls and do something about them…

While I do this for all areas of my life, I thought I’d publish my goals in terms of my one and only avocation – fly fishing.  And so with great fanfare, I list them below:

1) Purchase and set up an 8 weight fly fishing rig (fly rod / reel / line) for Finger Lake and Great Lakes tribs.

2) Catch the following “firsts” on the fly; a steelhead, lake trout, and a bluefish, striped bass, or weakfish.

3) Begin fly tying – focus on the Picket Pin, Wooly Bugger, and Egg and Worm Patterns.

4) Float fish the Susquehanna; a) Binghamton to Vestal Park, b) Vestal Park to Campville, and c) Campville to Owego

5) Practice and improve my casting distance and accuracy.  Learn to single haul and double haul.

6) Purchase my PA fishing license and explore, fish, and learn PA creeks and rivers.

7) Learn and use the following knots:  Non-Slip Mono Knot, Palomar Knot, Improved Turtle Knot, and Perfection Loop.  Learn to tie my own leaders.

So how about your fly fishing goals?  Have you thought about how you could be a better fly fisherman in 2010?  Take the time now, while Mother Nature is deep in sleepy snow, and jot down a few ideas.

Can you hear the bass snoring back there???

Mull them over between swigs of whiskey if you will.  Keep coming back to them over the next few weeks and refine and rethink them, until your list is something that inspires you.  Believe me, you’ll be happy for it when 2011 rolls around…

Tight Lines, and Happy New Year…

Happy Holidays!

The holidays are upon us, and the fishing in our neck of the woods is slowing down.  The party boats out of Barnegat Light have called it quits for stripers.  The Doris Mae will soon be making deep winter 60 – 80 mile wreck trips for deep water, great-eating fish such as cod, sea bass, blackfish, hake, and haddock.  The tribs still hold some fish, but the pace will not be what it was a month or two ago.  For those still interested in wetting, or icing a line, remember the tribs are closed to fishing as of the end of the year.

That said, there’s still fly fishing to be had in the finger lakes themselves, a frontier of sorts for this fly fisherman.  From what I’ve read, brown trout, landlocked salmon, pike and lake trout are all possibilities for the finger lakes fly fisherman.

Wouldn't mind tying into a few of these this winter...

I’ll be delving into fly fishing the finger lakes in upcoming posts, and possibly put what I’ve learned into practice.

Also coming up around New Years is a post on goals for 2010.  I’m hoping that a softly burning fire in the fireplace, a good beer by my side, and pen and empty paper will all inspire me to conjure up some lofty fly fishing aspirations for 2010.  Stay tuned, and tight lines…

Happy Holidays!

Spoonfed on Sutton Spoons

Up in the western Finger Lakes country lies Canandaigua Lake, a 15.5 mile long jewel and one of the eleven famed glacial lakes that look like fingers reaching southward on a map of New York state.  The lake’s name is derived from the Iroquios, “Kanandarque”, which means “chosen spot”, and a chosen spot it is.  At the south end of the lake is the town of Naples, former home to none other than our very own STFF staff member Kelly, the hero in an earlier post that detailed the account of how he singlehandedly negotiated the Class I rapids of the Susquehanna River, while yours truly slayed smallmouth bass at every likely riffle and pool (http://stflyfisher.wordpress.com/2009/09/22/kellys-excellent-canoe-adventure/).

Canandaigua Lake - home to grapes and trout...

While chatting the other day at work, Kelly revealed to me that besides being famous for its grape pies, Naples, NY, is also the clandestine global corporate headquarters for The Sutton Company.  I’d never heard of the company and revealing this to my boastful comrade, I’d soon learn, was a big mistake…

Currently listed on New York Stock Exchange, ticker "SUTN"...

What followed was a diatribe on the virtues of spoons that has never been heard by human ears.  Sutton, apparently, is a household name in Naples, but more so is a brand known ’round the world.

The place Sutton built, in downtown Naples...

And so this blogger decided to follow-up on the claims, and found, lo and behold, that sutton spoons are quite well-known.  Just google the name, and be ready for over 1,000,000 hits, ranging from a multitude of fishing forums and guide reports to a post suggesting sutton spoons make a great wedding gift…

In copper, how nice...

Most of the fishing forum posts hailed the fish-catching abilities of this simple lure, but one in particular gave some insight into the high technology utilized by the company in selling its mighty brand:

Sutton Spoons are made in a small shop in Naples, NY. Naples is about 50 miles southeast of Rochester on the south end of Canandaigua Lake. I doubt very much if they have a website as the last time I was there, the computer served as a paperweight. They are a super spoon and come in many different shapes and sizes. I find them in some of the smaller Mom and Pop stores in the Roch. area. Good luck.

Indeed, the Sutton company seems to pride itself on a number of counter-intuitive marketing principles that STFF staffer Kelly verified on a recent visit to their ivory corporate towers. For one, they do not have a website, apparently relying solely on brand loyalty, word-of-mouth, and the advertising made by other on-line retailers.  And two, they don’t exactly bend over backwards in the customer service department.  Kelly was kind enough to purchase a spoon for me, but in so doing, felt as if he was in line for soup in the famous Seinfeld “soup-nazi” episode.  Seeing a boatload of varieties of spoons on display, he asked to purchase one and made the mistake of asking, if this was, in fact, a sutton spoon.  The reply was borderline indignant, and Kelly took his purchase and quickly exited the store…

That's it - no more spoons for you!!!

There are a wide range of spoon types and sizes for a variety of trolling, casting, and jigging applications, most of them referred to by a number…

And you thought spoons were simple...

The old-timers who trolled the finger lakes for trout used a copper line on a large hand-held spool the size of a pie plate and referred to the technique as “pulling copper”.  The spoon would be run off the copper line with a leader and the idea was to troll slowly, letting the lure flutter off the bottom like a wounded sawbelly (alewife).  Modern down-rigger trolling systems and rod  set-ups have all but replaced “pulling copper”, but some fishermen apparently still use it, as seen in this video on youtube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-4q8Pqi53I).

Lest the readership think I’ve totally reverted back to my bygone years of spinfishery, I hereby publish an idea that could bring the sutton spoon to the fly fishing masses, and catapult The Sutton Company into higher realms of global corporate domination. It seems that some redneck fly fishermen down Louisiana way have been fishing the shallow saltwater estuaries and backwaters with a whole different fly.  The fly (pronounced flaah), often called a spoon fly or wobbler, is a concoction of mylar and epoxy, but at least some variations have a feather tail for balance.

Looosiana flaah - dagummit....

Imagine a different version of this fly, designed for deep trolling, Maine-style, off a full sink line.  Such a fly would more than likely need to be weighted but also have a light enough body to flutter sufficiently much like the sutton spoon at the end of copper wire.  This one would need to be metallic in color – copper, silver, or gold – and very much unlike the southern versions that incorporate all types of shrimp and tidal baitfish colors – hues of pink, purple, and chartreuse.

The colors and finishes of the sutton spoon fly...

And as for names?  How about “canandaigua spoon candy”, “keuka killer”, or “finger lake fly spoon”?  Is anyone at The Sutton Company listening?  Any fly tyers looking for a challenge???

Tight lines…

Striper Lockjaw Off Barnegat Light

“No birds – not a good sign”, sighed an older gentleman standing next to me.  We were on board the Doris Mae, heading out of Barnegat Inlet, and the horizon was barren except for the silhouettes of small boats.  On top of that, the weather looked almost too perfect, with light westerly winds, clear blue skies, and a bright sun that was quickly killing the early morning chill.  Last year at this time, the fishing started with lots of bird-play and fish that were obviously on the feed.  That was not be the case this day.

I had arrived at my parent’s house in nearby West Creek, NJ, the previous evening.  After chowing down on one of my madre’s most special meals, I was ready to do battle the next day on the Doris Mae – one of three party boats sailing out of Barnegat Light.

Pot roast, mashed potatoes with dark gravy, and veggies - what every saltie should eat before venturing forth...

I was equipped with my ever-trusty Penn Slammer spinning rod and an arsenal of good fishing hardware including crippled herrings, AVA’s, and bucktails – trademark jigs of the fall striper fisherman.  As one man noted when he saw my gear; “that man’s ready to fish!”

The Crippled Herring - the striper's demise...

The Doris Mae left the docks on schedule at 7 am and 15 minutes later we arrived at an area just outside the inlet that was crowded with small boats.  It wasn’t long before I had a good thump on my jig on the drop after working it off the bottom.  The fish fought like a blue, but I was surprised to find I had the first striper of the day.  This fish ended up being a short – party boat parlance for a striper under the minimum 28″ length, so back it went to the sea…

Plenty of fishing company...

Unfortunately, that early morning fish was all she wrote for me, and for the other anglers on the boat it was much the same.  We fished from 7 am to 2:30 pm, and came up with a few blues and one additional short striper.  Our captain, one of the famous Eble (pronounced eb’lee) brothers, took us far and wide in search of feeding fish.  We drifted off Island Beach State Park, but the only action we saw was from the small boats trolling umbrella rigs, picking up a striper here and there.

Leaving the beach for deeper water...

The other Barnegat party boats found the same conditions and all reported that they were marking fish with a serious case of lockjaw.  While I did have the one striper, I’m more proud of the fact that I hung in there and fished hard the whole day.  I noticed as the day wore on, the rail thinned out quite a bit.

I’ll have more to report on party boat fishing in a future post, but for me, I’m most likely done with saltwater for the year.  For those of you still itching, the fishing can be quite good through December, so give it a shot.

Tight lines…

A STFF Thanksgiving…

Perhaps you’re one of the lucky ones, like Jeff, a recent visitor to this blog, who, in the company of another angling friend, celebrates the start of Thanksgiving Day on Fall Creek every year.  Most of us with families, and especially those who have angling-averse families, must resign ourselves to the traditional family get-together; watching football, drinking, and eventually sitting down at table adorned with turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, cranberry relish, gravy, more drink, pumpkin pie, and more drink.  It’s not all bad, mind you.  It’s just that the holiday is all about giving thanks, and what better way to give thanks than to catch and release a few.  Symbolism is great…

Thanksgiving at STFF headquarters. Note the happy faces, the gala atmosphere...

No matter, my destiny this year, as in all years past, is chewing on a drumstick while visions dance in my head of jigging for stripers and blues on the DorisMae’s Thanksgiving trip off Barnegat Light.

Now mama always said, if you’re handed lemons, make lemonade, and so I decided to assign a little research regarding this historic event to the ever-scholarly STFF staff in hopes that their findings might support a change in the family tradition – a change that might even extend to a cultural renaissance of this feasting holiday.  What follows is sure to enlighten thee…

First off, a little background for those non-history types.  The Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock on December 11, 1620 – towards the end of the striper run, oh by the way.  Apparently the Pilgrims were not too skilled with jig or fly, because their first winter was terrible.  They lost 46 of the original 102 who sailed on the Mayflower.  The next year, however, smiled on the survivors, as the harvest of 1621 was bountiful.  The colonists, along with 91 Wampanoag Indians (credited with saving them from complete disaster), decided to celebrate their good fortune with a feast.

Some broiled bluefish, Squanto?

And what did that feast include?  Well, our research shows many variations in the menu, but by most accounts, one controversial item that may have been missing was, of all things, turkey.  Turkey were present in the wild at the time of the first Thanksgiving, but the word “turkey” was used by the Pilgrims to mean any sort of wild fowl.   Good ole’ gun-toting Governor William Bradford apparently sent four men “fowling”, so more than likely, any “turkey” in the center of the table were wild sea ducks or geese.  Also missing from the feast was the potato, considered poisonous by many Europeans at the time, and dairy products, since there were no domestic cattle available.

From other accounts and records of daily life in Plymouth, we know that rabbit, chicken, squashes, beans, chestnuts, hickory nuts, onions, leeks, dried fruits, maple syrup and honey, radishes, cabbage, carrots, eggs, and possibly goat cheese were available, although not necessarily all used in the same meal. The corn was most likely in the form of meal rather than on the cob, and pumpkin would have been served in the form of a pumpkin pudding or stew, and not in a crust.

Most noticeably “on the list” were some items few Americans would ever consider to be Thanksgiving table fare.  Governor Bradford lists bass, cod, and “other fish of which they took good store”, these fish being herring, bluefish, and lots of eels. Clams, lobsters (without the drawn butter), mussels, and oysters were undoubtedly part of dinner, too.

All they need is a little cocktail sauce...

So seafood, yes, seafood, made up a good part of the original Thanksgiving meal.  And how might that seafood come to our modern-day Thanksgiving table?  You guessed it; flyfishers and hardware fishers alike could go out and catch, and maybe this one time not release, their favorite piscatorial delight for part of the feast.  Imagine the pomp and circumstance as the weary fishermen return in the early afternoon and spread their bounty across the table for all to marvel over.  This addition to Thanksgiving would strengthen the tradition, put smiles on the multitudes, and kill TV ratings around all the damn football games that play that day.

I therefore propose that the readership spread the word.  This isn’t your grandfather’s Thanksgiving anymore – go forth and fish up some fare, and put a little Thanksgiving in Thanksgiving…

To all, a safe, belly-expanding, and joyous holiday…

Tight lines…

Fall Creek Blues

Sometimes you get the fish, and sometimes the fish get you.  That’s what happened to me on Fall Creek today.  I avoided the skunk once again this year by catching a small brown and a small rainbow at the falls pool at the end of the day, but I certainly didn’t bring home the bacon.

The fish were there – I saw two – and one fellow with a centerpin rig reported he had caught 4.  I also saw one guy hook-up and LDR a fish.  But that was the extent of it.

 

The fish I should have caught...

 

Conditions were ideal – almost too ideal, considering the high water we had on Friday.  The water was almost clear and running just a little higher than it was on my maiden voyage to Fall Creek (http://stflyfisher.wordpress.com/2009/11/03/falling-for-fall-creek/).  Unfortunately, there were also plenty of fishermen, including one guy who fished a nice pool for quite a stretch, and then cycled his friends into the slot, while I waited patiently upstream.  After each had fished, this group proceeded to hold the position and chat and smoke.  Not sure where that falls in terms of stream etiquette, but it seemed to me a violation to some degree.  Maybe its sour grapes on my part, but I waited upstream at least an hour before they finally moved on.

Anyhow, I gave it my best shot – threw everything I could – and left feeling good that hopefully this was one of those dues-paying trips.

 

The kind of blues I like to get...

 

Next week, weather permitting, I hope to try my luck in the salt.  Word is, there’s some hungry critters heading south right now…

 

Old linesides...

 

Best wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving…

Tight lines…

 

The Finger Lake Tribs are Up!

Finally, a good drenching rain…

Fall Creek is no longer falling...

Fall Creek had dwindled down to what seemed a comparative trickle.  There’s no USGS chart for Salmon Creek, but I suspect that it was in the same shape.  Last night’s rains might have been just the ticket to trigger fresh browns and landlocks, staging in the lake, to move up the tribs.  Air temps will be cooler the next few days too.  Could be a nice weekend!  Get out and enjoy…

Tight lines…

Ida – Not Ideal

Here at STFF headquarters, the plans for a great bluefish / striper weekend were well underway.  The forecast for the Barnegat Light, NJ, area was ideal, up until Wednesday evening.  Granted, this trip is a bit of a departure from my normal fly fishing fare.  I’m not accomplished enough in the salt, nor do I own a boat, to really “assault the salt” with feathers.  Instead, I generally fall back on the mono with jigs or bait.  Ardent fly fishers – give me a few more seasons, and the hardware will go…

Anywhoooooo, I was pumped for a long weekend, until I decided to check the weather Wednesday night, just before I began gearing up.  What I found got me down, big time…

Enough to make you bite the cyanide capsule...

Horrified, I called STFF field headquarters in Barnegat, NJ and learned it was all true.  The Grandpadre – my Dad – said the winds were very strong out of the northeast – 25 to 35 mph – and gusting to 60 mph.  A classic Nor’easter spells really rough seas and bad fishing.  After swigging at my martini on the rocks, I gained my composure, and announced the trip was dead.  Grandpadre did not disagree…

Today's confirmation...

I checked again today, and the weather continues to deteriorate.  Thanks to Ida, and a stubborn high pressure system, the mid-Atlantic is taking a pounding.  The party boats in Barnegat Light are surely not venturing out and who knows how long this will impact the great fall migration of hungry stripers and blues…

I guess I’ll need to look north – to the tribs.  The flows on Fall Creek are mighty thin, and the temps have been so-so.  Not sure what will develop for the weekend, but I’ll keep my eye out…

Tight lines…