Good Gear – The Seiko Monster

I’ll admit I’m a watchie.  I get the watchie genome from my Dad, and only discovered this mechanized-kronos addiction in the middle-aging of my life.  Dear old Dad, you see, kept showing up in retirement visits, wrist-clad with different timepieces – chronometers, hoitey-toitey dress watches, dive watches, sport watches – and they appealed to me…

One day I found this thing called ebay, and I might have well been a drunk living next door to a tavern, because over a few years I built a timepiece collection (true watchies would never call it a watch collection) of some 11 watches – err, timepieces.  It started with a basic Seiko design – the Seiko 5 (also recommended as a great, inexpensive, all-round beater watch) – and soon carried over to others in the Seiko brand, most notably the vaunted “monster” – a dive version of the Seiko 5 on steroids…

Seiko monster steel - WEC Extreme Cage-fighting certified (pic courtesy of thepruists.com)

At first I wasn’t sure what to make of this diver watch.  I don’t scuba and I don’t snorkel, so why would I purchase such a mass of ticking steel? I tried to ignore it, but the watch grew on me.  I took a liking to its bullet-proof looks.  Could it be, I wondered, the “uber” fly fishing watch, if there were ever such a thing?  Eventually, I broke down and bought the orange monster, and after giving it a thorough field test for the past year, I contend this is a great fly fishing watch. Follow with me to find out why…

All monsters  feature, first and foremost, a screw-down crown for deep dive water-resistance – in this case good for 200 meters.  While it’s doubtful you’ll ever truly need 200 meters of water resistance while fishing (you could wear it scuba diving at the bottom of Seneca Lake – the deepest of the Finger Lakes at 600+ feet – looking for that Orvis Helios you dropped overboard), it is a nice feature that assures a huge margin of safety for any type of immersion that might be encountered – streamside or surfside.

Here fishie, fishie, fishie...

In addition to water-tightness, the heart of the monster beats to the tune of the legendary Seiko automatic 7S26 movement.  For the watchie newbies out there, an automatic movement never needs winding as long as the watch is worn.  Movement of the wrist causes the cams in the watch to move and in effect, wind the watch.  The 7S26 boasts a power reserve of over 42 hours, meaning the watch can continue to function without motion for just shy of 2 days. Some automatic movements offer features referred to as hand-winding, meaning the watch can also be mechanically wound (i.e., you can wind it by hand every day, never wind it, and the watch still ticks away).  Some also off a “hacking’ feature, meaning that pulling the crown outward stops the movement for time synchronization.  The monster offers neither of these, but then again, these features come at a serious price adder.

Deep in the monster’s steel-encased chest cavity, the 7S26 ticks away at a relatively slow 21,600 bph (beats per hour), a pulse that won’t get you the precision of the Omega on the hoitey-toitey Orvis and Hardy flyguy upstream of you, but one that is surprisingly accurate for its price; from +8 – +12 seconds a week to under +5 seconds a week after break-in, according to some reports I’ve read.  Some inaccuracy is very desirable for a fly fishing watch when you think about it, i.e., “gee honey, I couldn’t have been late for the opera – my watch said it was 9 pm, the time we agreed I’d leave the river”).

Where you really want this watch to shine is in its ability to withstand abuse, and it’s in this department that the monster really roars.  The 7S26 automatic uses Seiko’s patented Diashock shock protection which is based on the ingenious use of a soft plastic spacer ring in the movement and a relatively low mass rotor.  In combination with a massive steel case, this provides a great deal of additional shock resistance to the watch.  Bang it up while wading the boulder-studded pocket water of the West Branch of New York’s Ausable River, and you’re assured you won’t be late for happy hour at the local tavern.

The big heart of the monster - the automatic 7S26 movement - get your motor running...

The orange monster face is fishing-cool, and not coincidentally has been tested to show best under water (monsters also exist in black, blue, yellow, and most recently, red).  The monster’s watch case is 41.5 mm across and 12.5 mm thick, adding to its big, visible, and rugged looks.  The three hands and hour markers are filled with Lumibrite…

Lumibrite at work in lower light conditions (courtesy of John B. Holbrook II)...

What you'd see while fishing for those big nocturnal browns...

Other monster features that make it a must-have in your fly fishing arsenal are a Hardlex (mineral) crystal, quickset day and date display, and a uni-directional bezel with minute marks.  My orange monster is equipped with the black ribbed Seiko dive watch band.  Besides its comfort and great looks, I found this band offers less opportunity to scratch that nice fly rod you might be cradling in your arm.

But I’d suggest buying the monster with the standard solid-link brushed stainless steel bracelet that is both incredibly sturdy and heavy enough to balance the hefty watch it holds.  It is a very secure bracelet, featuring a two-button folding case with safety and a wet-suit extension clasp for those who fish and dive.

Monster bracelet with security clasp and wet suit diver extension - courtesy of pmwf.com

After taking delivery of your new fly fishing companion, hop on over to one of the many watch stores on the internet and purchase the soft rubber Seiko dive strap.  Change out the watch bands for fishing use, knowing you have a beautiful stainless steel bracelet for formal occasions.

The price of this watch is very affordable at $100 – $150 online.  You’ll find a lot of these watches on ebay auction.  There are other automatic divers out there with similar features, but there’s nothing like having a monster by your side…

Tight lines…

A Look Back – A Look Ahead…

I spent Saturday at Nazareth College in Rochester, visiting the collegiate dadre, soaking up the mild weather and the last of the fall colors.  I was back home Saturday night, and after going into work on Sunday and then doing some “leaf-plowing” at the expansive STFF homestead, I decided the time had come to see if the bass were in the mood to eat.  Pondward I headed…

A nice westerly breeze made for a good drift along the far shallow shore...

The pond water was on the cool side for bass at 52 degrees, so I shed the popper and tied on a rust-colored, unweighted wooley bugger, and paddled out to the shallow end of the pond and let a westerly breeze push me  parallel to the shore like a slow rolling trolling motor.  Casting the bugger to the sunny shallows, I let it drift along, barely stripping it.  It wasn’t long before I picked up some bass – little and feisty and fat.  I continued the drifting cycle and as the sun started to set, the bass got a little more aggressive.  I caught a half dozen 12 inchers – and lost one big guy that fought like a drunken sailor at first and then woke up and zipped up and down the shoreline before the hook pulled.  Considering the pond temperature, the bass were indeed, still in the mood…

Pond-side maple - late to shed its gold...

The first two days of the week have been on the warm side – tugging at the hearts of the STFF staff as they toil away in corporate ivory towers.  Last night the rains started.  The rest of the week looks very wet and cooler – spelling “possibilities” if you’ve got your eyes on the Finger Lake tribs…

Ugggleeee...

Fall Creek has more water in it as a result of some rain last week…

Fall Creek is finally filling up...

We’ll cross our fingers that we get enough rain and some cold to send a strong signal to the landlocks and browns – “come on up”…

Tight lines…

 

Choconut Creek

Pioneer Joseph Addison established a farm on the banks of Choconut Creek in 1811.  Back then it is said that Mr. Addison could shoot deer from the porch of his farmhouse to provide meat for his family and the trout were so plentiful in the creek that he could wade in and catch them with his bare hands.

Joseph Addison's farmhouse, as it appears now, close to 200 years old (pic courtesy of 1811 Addison House B&B)

Historic Addison House stands proud with years, now a restored bed and breakfast inn, and Choconut Creek still flows the same 40 circuitous miles through hemlock-wooded gorges, valleys thick with hardwoods and across farmland that has been tilled for nearly two centuries.  The creek passes by modern-day Vestal, once the site of Iroquoian longhouses, on its destination to the Susquehanna River.

The Addison House and farm (http://www.1811addison.com/index.htm)

The unusual name of the creek is of Native American Indian origin; “Choconut” is a corruption of the Nanticoke word “tschochnot” meaning “place of tamaracks”.  A second interpretation is derived from the word “chugnut” which was the name of a small Indian tribe living under the protection of the Iroquois. The “chugnut” established villages on opposite sides of the Susquehanna River at the mouths of Choconut Creek and its northern sister-stream, Nanticoke Creek.  The Continental Army made it their mission to destroy these settlements since the Iroquios supported the British during the Revolutionary War, and this paved the way for the first European settlers, who came by way of New York and Connecticut in 1806 and built homes along the Choconut.  One among those new arrivals described this area of Pennsylvania as follows:

“The country is, as respects the surface, what is generally called a ridgy or rolling surface – very few of the hills too steep for cultivation, and their summits equally fertile with any other part. In the hollows or valleys there are delightful clear streams, a proportion of  which are large enough for any kind of water-works, and they abound with trout and other kinds of fish. I think it is the best watered country in my knowledge.”

In some ways, the area surrounding Choconut Creek has not changed much since the pioneer days.  There are still plenty of deer, bear, turkey, and even a few bobcat roaming the rural hills and valleys.  Coyote have taken the place of wolves, one of which treed a neighbor of Joseph Addison.  But it’s the creek that’s of interest here, and my research shows it may not be quite what it was when old Joe Addison waded its spring-fed waters.

The stream is classified as a warm water fishery by the Soil and Water Commission, but the commission also reported in 2001 that native populations of Brook and Brown trout can be seen in the Choconut Creek and many of its tributaries.  Indeed, some earlier posts in this blog prove that brookies are resident in at least one of the creek’s tributaries.

NoName Brook - a Choconut Creek tributary.

Flyfishers are aware that mayflies, stoneflies, and caddisflies are indicators of good water quality. At several creekside stops on a recent fall outing, caddis could be seen in abundance along with a few mayflies.  Their presence on the Choconut is encouraging…

A nice rocky run by a roadside bridge...

Also encouraging was stream structure – from pools with some depth…

The head of a deeper pool on the Choconut...

to well-shaded runs…

The kind of shade that brookies like...

and long pools with nice flows.

Upper Choconut Creek pool - not far from Addisn House...

But noticeably missing in all the places I checked were trout.  As much as I looked, with polarized sunglasses I might add, I could not find a one.  Could old Joe’s accounts of brook trout heaven in his backyard be accurate?  The landscape has not changed much from the days of old, or has it?

After much thought and more research on the matter, I contend that Joseph Addison was, in fact, not sipping whiskey when he made his claims of a creek stacked with brook trout.  When he first settled his piece of heaven, every inch of the hills and valleys were dense with hardwood and fir.  The hemlock shaded the ground, preserving the snow pack deep into late spring, and kept groundwater and the flows of the brooks and creeks cool during the heat of the summer.

The history of the Catskills is testament to the deforestation that changed that region from a haven for brook trout, to a fishery for brown and rainbow trout – “invasive” species if I dare say so.  In this historic mountain forestland, hemlocks 4 feet in diameter were once commonplace in what can best be described as an ancient climax forest, deep in duff with topsoil intact, covering the mountains like a huge sponge that retained cool water and absorbed the shock of heavy rains.  The white pines were claimed first for ship’s masts in the early colonial days and then the great hemlocks were felled and bark-stripped to feed the leather-tanning industry.  By the 1880′s, the effect was a bare mountainous landscape covered only in scrap, slashing, and broken trees.

As the Catskills went, so, most likely, did the Choconut Valley.  Just north of the place were leather tanning factories that fed a burgeoning shoe industry in Endicott, NY.  And beyond that, the farms blossomed to feed a growing America.

Choconut Creek flowing through pasture...

While the upper stretches of Choconut Creek may hold a few brookies or browns – and even a few small creek trophies that have the place all to themselves – the creek is indeed a shadow of the fishery it once was in the days of “old Joe”.  The best measure of what it could be can be found just up the road in Jones Park.  There, as previously posted, the hemlocks and hardwoods have been left alone to do their job.  The result, in mere puddles in the fall, is clear to anyone who wants to look.  At least there, Joseph Addison’s claim lives on…

Tight lines…

Weekend Wrap – Further into Fall

The Southern Tier of New York is officially on the downhill slide for the better known bright colors of autumn as the sugar and red maples begin shedding over the next few weeks.  There’s still more to the show, however.  The silver maples down by the rivers and the hillside aspens are turning golden, and the oaks will soon begin changing over to their rustoleum reds and browns.

As daytime highs and lows continue to drop and the rains (and snows) increase in frequency, the Finger Lakes tributary fishing should heat up.  I considered fishing Fall Creek this weekend, but with water levels stable, couldn’t justify the 45 minute trip for a so-so shot at early arriving landlocks or browns.

Fall Creek - steady eddie, not good for fishing...

Sunday was supposed to be a repeat of Saturday weather-wise – cold, rainy, and snowy.  Instead, the day turned out to be borderline Indian summer – with late afternoon temps in the mid to high 50′s and lots of sun.  After church and some family stuff it was too late in the afternoon for a shot at Cayuta Creek, so I ended up doing a little more exploration for brook trout.  I headed south on Rt. 267, crossing into Pennsylvania, and checked out a few upstream sections of Choconut Creek.  I plan on doing a post in the near future on this local little creek with big potential.

Choconut Creek

On the drive back home I couldn’t resist paying a visit to Noname Brook in Jones Park.  The brookies were there and I’m happy to report the brook was a tad more rambunctious from our recent rain.  Caddis were quite abundant, as were some size 18 – 20 mayflies dancing in the sunny areas of the woods.  I hiked the “yellow” trail back to the parking area and took my time to bask in the late afternoon sun.  With the exception of the always-clothed hemlocks and white pines, the trees in the gorge are mostly bare now.  The crunch of autumn leaves beneath my feet reminded me that it won’t be long before the white stuff blankets the woods for its deep winter sleep…

Tight lines…

The End of Fall?

The trouble started last night.  Snow – the way too early Indian summer party crasher of weather events – began falling.  The result was a winter wonderland outside the STFF mansion this morning…

Oh the weather outside is frightening...

The cold temps of late, and the rain and snow have, in my opinion, put the KIBASH on bass fishing, at least for us feather fishers.  Alas, in every cloud there’s a silver lining: the thought of fishing Fall Creek below the falls has been working on me.

The weather picture for the weekend is looking like overcast, cold, rain, and snow…

Wet and cold weekend ahead...

This could start an early run of landlocked salmon and browns from Cayuga Lake.  The number of fish in the creek in the fall is small, but nice fish are a possibility.  We’ll see what happens…

Tight lines…

Jones Park and Noname Brook

Tucked away in the southern part of Vestal is Jones Park, 330 acres of hardwood and fir forest bought in 1968, and one of the smartest investments a town government has ever made.  The park has a host of well marked trails for hikers, naturalists, and mountain bikers, but what brings me to this wooded paradise every fall is the little brook that rambles through its hilly terrain.

The brook is one of those no-name trickles, a faint line of blue on a topo map that twists and turns through the park and terminates with Choconut Creek, a tributary to the Susquehanna River.  This brook acts like a big burly creek early in the spring, laden with snow-melt.  By late summer, however, it is low and gin clear but still running cold as it slips through deep gorges ringed with fern, moss, and hemlock.

A lifeline of cold spring water...

For the non-observant, Noname Brook appears lifeless, even dead in some places.  Indeed, as I hiked into the park this past weekend I have to admit I was a little concerned about its condition, especially given the wet summer we’ve had.

Dry creek-bed, but then an oasis of water...

On my last visit the brook was a skinny but continuous trickle – now it could only be described as a series of disconnected pools.

Signs of hope - the dimple of a fish?

But in these cold pools, trickles, and runs, life takes its stand.  Hiking heavy-footed, I first noticed the dimples of small fish darting for cover.  Stalking up to each pool more carefully, I soon discovered that each of these tiny water worlds were teeming with life…

Stairstep Pools

Hemlocks stand guard.

As I continued my hike upstream, I found deep gorges where time and water have done their work: this little brook has much to be proud of….

Bedrock Gorge...

According to Nick Karas, author of “Brook Trout” (a great read, by the way, for brookie fanatics), “temperature is the single most important factor in determining distribution of brook trout over their range”.  When I checked the temp of these shallow pools, I was impressed with the cold…

Home

Standing atop a bank above a gorge, I could survey a nice pool without casting shadows.  In the gin-clear water, I found them – slim athletic forms that held in the current – a good dozen or so…

Look carefully, as I did, and you'll see little brook trout

These 2 – 3″ trout were not the big shots of the brook, either.  I scouted enough pools to find a few brook trout in the 4″ – 8″ range.  The better fish were ultra spooky – testament to the “they don’t grow big by being stupid” rule.  Many would vanish before the eyes – slithering into rock crevices, hiding under piles of surface leaves, or scooting under tree root overhangs.

I left Jones Park that afternoon excited with my scouting results and as fulfilled with my trip as if I had caught a dozen big browns on one of the local Catskill rivers.  But then again, brook trout, according to Nick Karass, “are members of an ancient order of fishes that had its beginnings more than 100 million years ago in the Oligocene Epoch”.  Who could bet against such genetics.

The preface of “Brook Trout” begins with an account of a local Indian legend, old Jesse Logan, of the Cornplanter Reservation in Warren County, Pennsylvania, the last (in 1928) of the Shikellemus tribe:

“Once long, long ago, when Manitou visited the land of the Iroquios to lead his lost children back to the Happy Hunting Ground in the Far East, He grew weak with hunger and cold on this long quest.  Toward night He stopped beside a pool in the Seneca country (New York) which was overshadowed with colossal white pines and hemlocks.  Noticing that it was full of handsome trout, as black as ebony, he reached in His hand and easily caught the largest of the superb fish.  Looking at it he was struck by its beauty and agile grace, and decided to control His hunger and let it live, so He dropped it back in the deep pool.

“The trout went its way, but instantly its sides took on a silvery hue where the fingers of the Great Spirit had held it, and all of its kind became marked with the same silvery sheen and many colored spots and halos, as a token of their being handled by the kindly Manitou.  For that reason, the Seneca Indians and others of the Six Nations would not eat brook trout.  Brook trout were sacred to the highest instincts of their race.  But what the redmen spared,” said Logan, “white men destroyed by the millions.”

There is no doubt the brook trout has faced many man-made challenges above and beyond just surviving a year in a tiny brook in the woods.  Overfishing, acid rain, introduction of non-native competition, and loss of habitat have all had their way.  But it is encouraging to witness Mother Nature’s remarkable resilience in a little corner of paradise, so close to home.  Manitou may just be smiling…

Weekend Wrap – Peak Week

It’s peak week for fall colors here in the southern tier of New York…

Pierce Hill Pond with a background splash of color...

The weekend was beautiful with cold evening temperatures followed by sunny days that hit the mid 50′s.  River and stream conditions were mixed – the big rivers were still high and murky while the headwaters were fishable.  Water temps are dropping.  The backyard pond was discernibly quiet, though I was able to rouse a few bass on topwater flies during a short paddle Saturday evening.

This fisherman considered another jaunt to Cayuta Creek, but a perfect storm of family stuff – car problem, dadre home from college, fall baseball for sadre #2, church pumpkin sale for sadre #1, and a madre and dadre shopping extravaganza all combined on several fronts to keep you-know-who at home for the most part.  I made the best of it, as fly fishermen are so damned good at doing, and managed to take a trip to a favorite little park not far from the STFF palace grounds.  I’ll be putting a post up about it this week, but here’s a preview shot…

Jones Park

It’s a chilly 27 degrees this bleary-eyed morning and more and more I’m reminded of potential trib fishing trips for steelhead and browns and the long-awaited trip for blues and stripers in the salt.

Tight lines…

Weekend Short Report

Ain't lookin good fellas...

A bad weather sandwich is headed our way.  The southern tier is supposed to get a half inch of rain tonight, although Saturday and Sunday look like they’ll be civil, and the sun may even shine.  The rivers are in that sorta-kinda state.  They’re sorta settling but this half inch of rain we’re expecting will most likely spoil them for the weekend.  Headwaters and tailwaters will most likely be the best choice.  And don’t forget the tribs.  Some of the local Cayuga Lake tribs can be good – Fall Creek in Ithaca, for example, can get some nice fall runs of browns and landlock salmon.

Tight lines…

Cayuta Creek

Cayuta Creek is a wonderful little creek, 40 miles in length, running parallel for much of its length with Route 34 as it meanders to its terminus with the North Branch of the Susquehanna River in Pennsylvania.  Indian legend has it that its source, Cayuta Lake, is named after a beautiful Seneca princess who was kidnapped by another tribe, causing her mother’s tears to form the lake.  An older spelling of the creek’s name, still sometimes used, is “Kayutah”.  The name translates to “little gem”, and that is exactly what this creek is to the fly fishers who frequent it.

Little Gem...

Cayuta receives healthy stockings of brown trout every year, but is also known for its holdovers and natives.  This is classic upstate fly fishing – fast riffles, slow runs, brush-lined pools, and deep, snag-infested holes abound.  Every year at least a few large browns are taken; indeed, a coworker once told me his son pulled a 6 lb brown out of the lower section.  I had my doubts about this until one bright spring day when my Hendrickson nymph stopped dead as it swept under a downfall.  I set the hook and saw the golden flash of a big brown in the murky green depths.  The weight of the fish in combination with some heavy current did their thing, but suddenly I was a believer, as they say.

Open all year, Cayuta offers solitude, gorgeous upstate surroundings, and the chance for good trout fishing.  While there are only two DEC angler parking areas in the upper section, finding a place to park along most of the creek is not difficult.  Wading and navigating the creek, however, can be tricky.  The best places to do well are going to be the ones the lazy fishermen pass up.

Riffle water...

Staff Hydrologist Dan and I usually hit Cayuta before the traditional NY opener as a warm-up for the season.  We fish the special regs section, from the Rt. 223 bridge downstream to the Wyncoop Creek Rd bridge, as this is open to artificial lures only.  I’ve fished above this stretch once before and did well.  The section below the special regs stretch I’ve yet to explore, but I’ve been told this area can produce some real slabs, if you’re willing to work for them.

I arrived at the special regs section on Sunday afternoon around 2 pm.  After stringing up my 7′ 4 wt JP Ross Beaver Meadow rod and getting down to the creek I noticed a few caddis about, and as these patterns typically do well here, I tied on a tan caddis dry to see if the fish were looking up.  I worked over a nice riffle, run, pool and another combination of the same and all I could come up with were creek chubs that hurled themselves at the fly.  As I fished, I noticed the water had a slight “snowmelt” color to it.  The temp was a very cool 52 degrees F.  I re-rigged to fish wet, and tied on one of my favorite search patterns – the infamous Picket Pin.

Old Faithful...

I hiked down the road about a quarter mile to a place Dan likes to fish – a nice brush-lined riffle that spills into a long run and meandering pool.  I fished the picket pin upstream dead drift, then let the line belly out with the current, swing down, and hang for a moment.  I fished the fly weightless, but let the upstream cast and mend give the fly some depth.  A few casts at this spot and I was tight to a fish – a nice 2 year old.  He came up slow, head-shaking, then ran upstream.  I worked him across into the slack water and quickly released him.

I moved upstream to another good spot – broader in width, shallower in depth, but with good cover.

Looking upstream - a nice pool with good cover...

After much ducking and grappling through those nasty thorn-covered crabapple trees, I was able to position myself across a pool that cut into the bank and had great cover.  I watched the water and a flash of butter yellow and silver caught my eye.  Looking more closely, I could see a brown trout picking off nymphs.  I cast upstream, giving my unweighted fly time to sink as it reached the deep middle of the pool, then I’d let my line tighten and swing the fly through.  I did this 3 times before the fly stopped, my line tightened, and I strip set the hook into another nice brown.  This fish came to the surface, thrashing the water to a froth, and settled back in the pool to slug it out.  I worked the fish out upstream, and released it after a quick photo op…

Cayuta Creek brown...

Pool by pool I worked my way upstream.  I fished the riffles, pools, holes, and downfalls, one by one.

Downfall - deep hole...

I picked up 2 more browns, smaller in size, but just as big in their fighting spirit.  Around 5 pm I reached the point upstream where I had parked and decided I had been blessed enough.  I stowed my gear, broke out a cigar, and enjoyed the warmth of the late afternoon.  Across the creek was a cornfield, partially harvested and mowed, and beyond it, hills turning scarlet, copper, gold, and brown.  I felt lucky to be alive…

Autumn afternoon...

Tight lines…

Indian Summer…

The string of nasty, cold, rainy, overcast, and generally depressing weather finally broke yesterday – a beginning to what may be the shortest Indian Summer on record. The forecast shows another string of cold rainy weather beginning on Tuesday and lasting a good week, but we’ll take what we can get this year.

It dawned clear and cool yesterday with fog in the river valley but a glowing fall sun helped us hit a high in the mid to upper 60′s under mostly bluebird skies with a few fair weather cumulus clouds skirting by.  The autumn colors are just starting to turn on…

The view from STFF corporate headquarters...

For the most part, the rivers are showing a little uptick in flows, most likely due to the rain we had on Thursday and Friday.  Best bets for fishing might be the upper Susquehanna – as it’s the only river that seems to continue to settle – and although the West Branch is flowing at a nice wadeable level, the report from West Branch Angler and Catskill Flies is that it has some murk to it.  They’re recommending streamers, so if you’re not into chucking meat, and you’re gunning for trout, you may need to hit the headwaters.

I decided to spend the day putting some fly fishing cash deposits into the madre’s “emotional bank account”.  For those of you who may be wondering what the hell I’m talking about, days like these that are great weather-wise, but suck riverwise, are the days you want to be extra helpful around the house.  You get to enjoy the nice weather and you’re pumping the madre up with payback points.

So work I did.  The lawn needed cutting, the yard needed tending, and there was this post in the front yard that had to be removed.  But all the while, the backyard pond was calling to me…

Indian Summer on Grippen Pond.

I finished my work around 5 pm, and quickly strung up my 7 1/2 foot St Croix 5 weight.  Then it was off to the pond – a trip of about 100 steps – and into my Old Towne kayak.  I paddled around to the deep end of the pond.  Here there is plenty of cover for light-shy bass…

Good cover for bass - and the wood ducks like it too...

I popped a froggy-looking deer hair bug around all that good-looking wood but the dinner bell didn’t bring the bass out.  I tried a few other spots that were shady and weedy and had a few boils but no takes.  The deer hair bug I used has a weed guard, and I generally despise the things because I believe they lower hook-up percentages, which this outing seemed to validate.  I use them only because our pond gets real weedy once July rolls around.

I paddled over to the sunny shallow side of the pond and with a few casts against to shallow bank water, spooked a few nice bass.  Checking the water temp by hand, I realized the fallacy of my earlier ways.  Bass are generally light-shy and cover-happy, but when the water is cool in the spring and fall, they tend to forgo their fears to bask in warmer water.  And that’s exactly why they were here…

I moved on down the pond shore to a stand of cattail on our end of the pond where I had observed some swirling and splashing.

Thick as sugar cane...

I cast my bug as near to all those nooks and crannies as I dare and saw a big bow wave come out from the cover.  It surged towards my innocent popper – I tried to keep my nerves under control – and then it disappeared in a little “sip” of a surface boil.  I strip-set the hook into solid weight.  The fish didn’t do much at first – just sulking in the shallows – then jumped and tail-walked and generally went berserk, which is a big part of what bass do so well.  Even by the kayak, this guy ducked and weaved and danced away, splashing me a few times to boot.

No hawg, but great fun on a 5 weight...

I fished into the early evening, enjoying the warmth of the fading day, the start of fall colors, the mallards and wood ducks, and the kingfishers.  The bass were still pretty spooky – I know this because I got good at flushing them with my false casts.  The wakes on a few of them were impressive – and some exploded like depth charges when I spooked them – so I’m guessing my babies must be putting on the weight.  I also finally saw the grass carp my neighbor added early this year – veggie eating submarines – enjoying the last warmth of the year.  Grazing on all the weeds in this fertile old pond, they should be getting gargantuan in size in no time.  I left the pond planning another shot at some bigger bass, and a future post on fly fishing for grass carp, hoping to hang on to Indian Summer just a little longer…

Tight lines…