Sight Fishing Stress

Sight fishing for trout pushing 10 pounds can be -- to say the least -- nerve wracking. Fly anglers on Elk Creek are used to having their nerves rattled. The freestone stream clears quickly and holds an inordinate number of steelhead -- of the synthetic, but substantive strain.

On Saturday the creek was clearing as the afternoon sun moved across the treeline on the far bank. I expected to start to see fish moving through the narrow chutes and cuts that appeal to steelhead as they move south through the creek that has a bottom that is mostly flat shale. Fresh steelhead -- thanks to their olive back and silver sides -- are almost invisible in slightly murky water that turns green as it clears.

Most of the deep holes -- too deep and murky to see into -- held fish, and as I walked from one hole to the next I kept checking the chutes, but all appeared empty, and my drifts came up empty. Inside a narrow cut in the shale, a trout showed itself by moving its tail. A waving tail is often the only hint that the appealing dark spot is actually a fish. Of course fast moving water can create an optical illusion that persuades the angler that the rock is a fish. And after a dozen or so unsuccessful drifts through the run, I was beginning to wonder whether the dark spot was fish or fractured bottom.

I peered hard into water, hoping to cut through the glare and reassure myself that I wasn't wasting my time.

I adjusted the weights trying to make sure I was getting to the bottom of the cut without getting snagged. Each drift came up empty, adding to the anxiety. It had to be a fish, didn't it. Why wouldn't it take my fly? I was debating whether to move on or change flies when I finally got the drift right. The fish moved, inhaled the minnow fly and its head shook in response to the Mustad piercing its mouth. The shaking head sent vibrations up the line, through the 10 foot fly rod and up my arm. Anxiety turned to adrenaline as the steelhead rocketed out of the water and peeled line off the reel as he headed downstream.

Sucker Commute

The long wait ended this morning, but the disappointments of spring 2011 continued. I made my way to a favorite stretch of the Rocky River before dawn knowing that I’d only have a brief stay before heading downtown for an 8:30 meeting.

River flow and water temperature were in my favor. But the ever-changing weather seemed to be just as confusing to the fish as it was to me. Sunday’s temperature hit nearly 80 as I flew out to DC for a series of meetings on Monday. The heat followed me east, but by the time I flew back to Cleveland on Monday temperatures had dropped into the low 40s and it felt like winter was on its way back.

The cold, rainy spring has kept the rivers too high to fish more often than not. And the few days when the rivers have been in good shape, the steelhead have been very elusive and this morning was more of the same.

The only fish I encountered, whether in the riffles or the deeper runs, were striped suckers from Lake Erie.

It left me wondering if the Lake Erie steelhead were trying to emulate their West Coast brethren and become the fish of a thousand casts. Sadly, I didn’t have the time a thousand casts this morning.

Searching for February Steel

After a fishing-free January, I at least got out twice in February. The big thaw that hit two weeks ago caused the Lake Erie tribs to hit flood level. But on Saturday afternoon, Feb. 22, one of the tributaries of the Grand was fishable. Ice flows crowded its banks, and the water flo the hole to myself and was pleasantly surprised to hook into a long, strong fish during the hour I was on the water. The fish made several runs, knocking the winter’s long rust off of my fighting skills. As the fish started downstream I knew something wasn’t right. As the fish came to surface the hook was in its side. I was fishing with a dropper, so it’s possible it didn’t start off there. Nonetheless, the first steelhead of the new year was foul hooked. I didn’t want to put any more stress on the fish, so I pulled hard to break the line. That brought a quick end to the fight and not other fish showed themselves in an hour of fishing.

Here’s a more productive March.wed greenish-brown or was it brownish-green. Three other anglers had the same idea as I did. It wasn’t much of an idea, but it was better than suffering another day of cabin fever. No fish were found, but it was indeed good to be out.

Today I tried the waterfall hole on my home water. The foot of snow that fell on Friday was beginning to melt and the water was was moving at about 300 CFS. It was definitely more green than brown, but plenty murky. The melting snow kept the water close to 32 degrees. I had the hole to myself and was pleasantly surprised to hook into a long, strong fish during the hour I was on the water. The fish made several runs, knocking the winter’s long rust off of my fighting skills. As the fish started downstream I knew something wasn’t right. As the fish came to surface the hook was in its side. I was fishing with a dropper, so it’s possible it didn’t start off there. Nonetheless, the first steelhead of the new year was foul hooked. I didn’t want to put any more stress on the fish, so I pulled hard to break the line. That brought a quick end to the fight and not other fish showed themselves in an hour of fishing.

Here’s a more productive March.

Chautaqua's Beauty

Judge John said it best:

"I fish because ... I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly."

Chautaqua Creek is as beautiful a south shore Lake Erie stream as I've fished. Jack and I explored it on Saturday and Sunday. The leaves were far from peak, but the woods were still painted in yellows, browns and crimson. Each turn in the river offered a new miniature waterfall where the whitewater plunged through shoots, rushed across gray shale, and then fell to the pools below. The river's rumble drowned out the geese overhead. The only reminders of civilization were the occasional freight trains heading both east and west along the tracks that parallel the lake's shoreline.

From Chautaqua Creek 2010

The steelhead cooperated, as well. Their silver flash, green backs, pink stripes and red gill plates added to nature's abundant palette.

From Chautaqua Creek 2010

Judge John was fortunate to be able to leave the crowded environs and return permanently to his beloved northwoods. I am back in the ugly place were crowds are found, but I carry the memories of Chautaqua's beauty with me.

From Chautaqua Creek 2010

Newbie Lessons

On the drive east to explore Chautaqua Creek, Jack (a steelhead rookie) asked a very good question. What are the most common reasons why an angler loses a steelhead? Over the next 48 hours Jack would learn the answers for himself, and a few other lessons too.

Friday night wee declared Saturday to be a learning day and Sunday to be a doing day. And things worked out pretty much that way. Here are five of the lessons that all newbies learn as they explore Steelhead Alley for the first time.

1. Forget the back cast -- there's too many trees back there on the narrow streams that flow into Lake Erie. A simple roll cast or flip cast (with the help of a few split shot) does the trick most of the time.

From Chautaqua Creek 2010

2. Without a good drift there will be no fish. A drag free drift is necessary in most types of fly fishing. But I've found that steelhead are much less forgiving than most trout, particularly the hatchery fish that many new anglers cut their teeth on. Getting a good drift requires the angler to pay close attention and understand what is happening under the water. No daydreaming.

3. Set the hook downstream. The fish are facing upstream. An upstream hook set simply pulls the hook from the fish's mouth.

4. Set the hook even if you think it's the bottom. Steelhead hug the bottom for the most part, and that's where the fly needs to be. That means your flies are going to get caught on the bottom. Any pause in the drift, set the hook. Jack learned that sometimes the bottom moves and puts up a heck of a fight.

5. Don't hold the line or the reel too tight. When steelhead take off nothing can stop them, just let them go. Having a death grip on the cork with the line underneath your fingers will result in a snapped leader, punctuated with a sharp crack that sounds like a gun shot.

From Chautaqua Creek 2010

Learn these lessons and you too can find yourself getting ready to release a mighty steelhead into a Lake Erie tributary.

October Arrives With Promise

Work has kept me pretty distracted since returning from Yellowstone, but it's hard to miss the cooler temps, gray skies and water-filled gutters. Yep, it's steelhead time. Now the question becomes when will I be able to enjoy it?

The Rocky River is starting to drop and probably was fishable in the upper reaches today -- but work called. And how many fish will be south (upper) this early? Hard to say, but more than most people think.

Tomorrow, I head east for a day of meetings far from the steelhead rivers. But when I'm done, I will likely drive north as fast as the fish car will carry me to explore the eastern Ohio/western PA streams. That's the idea, any way. But a heavy rain Friday could blow those plans out the window.

There are already reports of a decent early run in the Erie area -- although the real big numbers won't be in a for a few weeks.

But now is the time to get serious about not letting work get in the way of the really important stuff. Hopefully the next post will be about fishing...

Sept. 19 Steelhead Seminar

Wondering about Lake Erie steelhead? Wondering how to get started? Tired of not catching the silver ghosts? Then the place to be is the Backpackers Shop in Sheffield Village on Sept. 19 at 10 a.m.

Jerry Darkes, who has a fun blog here, will be among those on hand willing to share secrets. There's no better fly shop in Steelhead Alley then the Backpackers Shop. I've dropped a fair amount of change in there over the years and I'm looking forward to spending some more...

If I'm not on the water I'll see you there on the 19th.

Steelies Are In - First Reports of New Year

Late August can either remind us of the summer swelter so common in the Great Lakes or it can foreshadow the crisp autumn to come. There's been a lot of foreshadowing going on the last few days, including gusty winds and a steady drizzle this morning.

The cooler temps and slight rain prompted the first steelies of the fall to poke their noses into Walnut and Elk creeks over in Erie. The gang over at FishErie.com are reporting some early success. Unquestionably those fish will head back to the lake when summer returns (as it always does). But they'll be back, perhaps about the time we return from Yellowstone.

Over in the nation's first national park summer is all but over, and the grasshopper fishing on the Gallatin is off the charts. Fly Fishing In Yellowstone has become one of my favorite blogs this summer. I will be watching it closely the next few weeks and praying that the fishing holds up and winter holds off. I hear it can come early in the park.

Ice, Ice, Ice

It looks like we're going to experience iced up rivers here on the southern coast of Lake Erie (which some geographically challenged folks insist on calling the North Coast). Ice up means that we're having a real winter. I define real winter as when the snow sticks around for more than a week. We usually only get a few weeks of "real winter" here in Ohio. When I lived in Duluth, Minnesota, winter was spent cross country skiing, not river fishing. I miss skiing the Birkie every year, but know that there's no way I could make the trek anymore. Here in Ohio, I happily traded cross country skis for a fly rod and I've gotten used to fishing nearly every weekend of the year. But it looks like I'll be taking a few weeks off...which means I get to catch up on my fly tying. It's time for a few posts about life at the fly bench.

Tree Fishing -- It's Not As Easy As it Looks

I'm really not sure how we anglers sometimes get into the predicaments we get into, but never before have I seen a man in waders in a tree. But that is exactly where Juris ended up -- with an assist from Jon -- in an effort to save his leader from the fierce tree monsters that lurk on the banks of Elk Creek. Juris was fighting a steelhead on Friday morning when the fish tossed the hook and the tension release sent the line over his head and into the tree.

Most of us would have simply broke off the line, but not Juris. He scampered up the tree with a grace not expected for a man in waders. (Does the Simmis warranty include tree climbing?) Jon helped him free the line from the tree, and in a fw minutes Juris was back fishing, only to have his leader break off on another fish.

Slush and Getting Soft

The temperature didn't get above freezing overnight and into the day on Saturday, and that generally means one thing: slush. But the forecast said Sunday would be even colder. So I had to at least check things out Saturday or risk having a fishing free weekend -- not an encouraging prospect.

The frozen retention pond in front of the health clinic near our home didn't offer much promise for a good outing. And the upper Rocky was frozen as I headed north. The car thermometer said 26 degrees and the wind was howling pretty good. But there was flowing water in Berea and my hopes raised slightly. What I didn't notice as I drove, but quickly realized when I got out of my car to scope out the first spot was slush. Lots of slush. Spin fisherman, with their monfilament line, large bobbers and weights and fight their way through slush. Fly fishermen with their thicker fly lines and more delicate offerings struggle terribly with slush. The fly ends up taking a ride on the slush, rather than sinking to the bottom. As I drove downstream I saw a few fly fishermen, but they were struggling to stay warm and get a good drift. There were a few more spin fishermen, but they too were struggling to stay warm and I saw no signs that fish were being caught.

I parked and hiked across a bridge over the river to get a better look at the river. The flow was good, but the slush slowly circling the eddy against the far bank made the river look like a giant slushy. Maybe 10 years ago I would have given it a shot. But fighing iced up guides and reels while ducking out of the wind just didn't seem like a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. And the forecast indicated that the temperatures wouldn't even approach freezing, which means the slush would only get worse. I told myself: "I'll still fish in slush, but only if the slush is burned off by a rising sun." No warmup, no fishing for me.

I guess this means I'm getting soft.

Mystery Fish

One of the many reasons I love steelhead is that they are acrobatic fish. After being hooked they think nothing of leaping three feet into the air, doing a cartwheel and splashing down into the river. On occassion I've had steelhead swim right at me, leap from the water and nearly strike me with their bodies. Fortunately, I've never been hit.

Simply put, these fish are not shy about showing themselves. That's why it's so intriguing when a mystery fish shows up on the other end of the line.

On the Friday after Thanksgiving on the Rocky (Flow of 400 cfs and falling an temperature of 34 degrees), I encountered an lost such a mystery fish. The clay particles from the high runoff earlier in the week were still suspended in the river, giving it a brown-green tinge. Visibility was about 12 inches, maybe a little more in the slow water. The conditions looked promising, but the cold snap obviously had the fish lethargic.

An early dead drift through the tail end of a hole produced a foul hooked fish. The hook was firmly planted in the tail -- normally I snap off such fish quickly. But this one came to the surface and rolled to shore without putting up a fight and I quickly released him.

A little while later I switched spots with a friend and tried the neck of the pool, where the water narrowed just slightly. On the first drift through there was a pause in the drift and I quickly lifted the rod and set the hook. The head shake confirmed that I was into a steelhead and off he ran. Or she ran. Or he ran. I will never know. The fish ran far and hard. And circled back and ran right at me, before racing to the far bank. Never did the fish clear the water. As I backed to shore, he/she ran a little downstream. Not far, so I was confident I could turn the fish and bring it shore. No such luck. As I pulled the rod over my shoulder, trying to keep it parallel to the river, the hook came shooting out of the water and past me. The hook had pulled out. The fish was gone. A few minutes of fighting the fish had taught me nothing about it -- other than it was big, and smarter than me.

Much to be thankful for this year, including the mystery fish.