New Season, New River

Every summer Mother Nature remodels the rivers that feed into Lake Erie providing new places for steelhead to hang out during their runs upstream. Sometimes the changes are subtle. For example, a pocket at the end of pool on the Rocky River under a tree shifted downstream about five feet.  Once I figured out that change, two fresh fish quickly came to the bank. I expect the fish liked it when the pocket was farther upstream and the tree provided more protection from anglers.

Sometimes the changes are dramatic. Heavy floods washed a lot of gravel out of prime holding spots on Elk Creek leaving nothing but flat shale bottom behind. Long stretches of flat shale are like fish deserts. There is no gravel or boulders to create pockets or breaks for the fish to get out of the current. Stretches that once held dozens of fish are now barren. Perhaps somewhere downstream there are new holding spots filled with gravel from upstream. If those spots exist I haven't found them yet.

Chutes vs. Pools

The initial run of steelhead into the Pennsylvania tribs to Lake Erie attracts large crowds of fishermen. Anglers line the pools forming a gauntlet for the migratory trout. The crowds attract more crowds. The thinking goes something like this: "Man there must be a lot of fish there, let's squeeze in and get a few." And soon the pools are as crowded as the Livonia Tavern for a Steelers game.

A lot of late arriving anglers get frustrated by these crowded conditions; others of us don't like pools at all instead head for the chutes. Chutes are narrow, short stretches of water that have enough depth to hold a fish or two. Most anglers headed for the pools don't even give the chutes a second look. Even in clear conditions, chutes can offer great camouflage to the steelhead. The seasoned angler senses their presence rather than sees them. During the peak of the run on Elk Creek nearly every chute will hold at least one fish. There can be long walks between chutes on the Elk, but it beats standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a chain smoker.

Fishing chutes requires a little extra weight to get the fly down and short drifts, but it can be highly effective and rewarding. It's not uncommon to pick up a fish on the first drift through a chute, so be ready to set the hook right away. Also, get ready to get some nasty looks from the anglers crowded around the pools as they watch you fight fish in the fast water. And if those anglers start heading your way, it's time to go looking for the next chute.

Tribs of Steel

After a few fairly unsuccessful hours of searching for steelhead in the main creek I decided to follow Rem up an even smaller tributary that I once hiked up about 15 years ago but never tried to fish. Good call, Rem. Melting snow and a light drizzle filled the tributary with greenish brown water that was murkier than the flow in the main creek. Much of the trib is narrow enough to jump across, but in a few spots it widens to about five to ten yards across.

Rem explored a few fast moving shoots as I walked under the pine trees and went in search of a pool. About 50 yards upstream the tributary filled up an elongated pool at the base of a large bluff. Knotty pines stuck out of the bluff at crooked angles, their branches hanging over the water. At the head of the pool the water came plunging out of run, crashed into the bluff wall and turned left. At the tail, brownish water backed up before rushing into the top of the next run. Three steelhead could be seen in the tail and the water appeared deep enough to hold several more. Branches from a small tree hung over the tail of the pool, making a cast in the tight spot even tighter.

Fishing small tributaries for large fish can be challenging. And it's definitely a change of pace. Roll casts are required. Quick, small mends help get the drifts right. Hook sets need to be gentle to avoid sending the flies into the overhead branches. Once the fish is hooked, the fight usually ends quickly. Either the fish heads into one of the many deadfalls and breaks off or is successfully pulled to shore. There just aren't a lot of options for the fish in these small ribbons of water. Fishing these small tribs can be both productive and fun when the conditions are right -- rising, murky water. Fishing them when the water is low and clear is pretty much out of the question, unless you like using your hands (illegal).

On one of the first drifts through a mid-sized male steelhead holding unseen in the deeper water hit a pink egg fly and put up a modest fight before coming to the gravel bank. I turned the pool over to Rem and kept hiking upstream through the woods. The water thinned out over the shale bottom and there were fewer holding spots. A narrow channel turned up a fresh looking skipper with a light pink gill plate that eagerly inhaled a black stonefly. He tried his best to wrap around a deadfall before sliding onto the bank.

After hiking upstream about a half mile, I headed back downstream and hooked two more out of the first pool. I'm not sure if conditions will ever be right to fish the trib again, but the memories will last.

Ten Pounds of Silver

Heavy rains early last week induced a fresh run of silver up the Lake Erie tributaries and by Saturday a.m. the streams in Pennsylvania had dropped to the lower-end of what I consider fishable. Odds were the stream would be packed with weekend warriors, but it was worth a shot as our calendars finally aligned and Jerry and his two boys, as well as Rem, were able to make the trek.

We were pleasantly surprised to be the first car in the lot as the eastern sky started to turn pink, but we were joined by a few more cars even before we started hiking downstream. When Elk Creek gets low the spots that hold fish can be few and far between and if your desired spot is occupied it can make for a long day of fishing pocket water as you search for the next unoccupied run. Our desired spot only had one other angler and the five of us spread out and tried different pieces of a big pool, a run in front of the hole and a bunch of riffles below.

The pool held several fish and there was enough fish in the other spots to keep us entertained as we traded places. As the morning brightened it became clear just how many fish were in the pool -- too many to count. Most of the fish were silver as dimes. The fish must have headed upstream on Tuesday or Wednesday and hat gotten stranded in the hole when the water dropped. A large, wide shale shelf with just a little water flowing across upstream limited their ability to continue their southward journey.

The fish would take turns moving up to the head of the pool into the fast water where they would regularly inhale single eggs and nymphs. I ran out of a favorite yellow stonefly pattern that I have to remind myself to fish when the conditions are right.

The biggest fish of the day was a 10 pound male that fought like a bulldog before finally coming to shore. Everyone got a chance to hook fish and land at least a few. The fish regularly reminded us that they have plenty of energy, even when we think they are ready to be beached. On days like this, a net would come in handy.

Jerry observed after the day was over that it's more fun to explore new water rather than fishing the entire day along the same familiar stretch of Elk (we've been fishing this stretch for four years or so now). I agree, but at least once a year it's fun to have a full day of constantly fighting fresh steelhead. Next time we head east we hope to explore some new water on Conneaut Creek. Memories of 10 pounds of silver will tide me over until then.

Low Water Steel

Low, clear water and big fish require small flies and fine tippets. That's a recipe for 50 fly day. Juris and I spent nearly as much time tying knots as we did fighting fish; and we smiled all morning long. The fish were plentiful and surprisingly the anglers were not on Elk Creek.

The day started off with a bald eagle lifting from a sycamore tree and heading upstream. We followed. I assume the eagle had as much luck as we did as the low water narrowed the places where the trout could hang out.

The fish were easy to find and as long as they were holding in the faster water, a good drift with a small nymph or egg fly would result in a strike. That's when the explosion would occur. The rainbows would burst from the water -- the third fish of the day jumped at least six times before coming to shore. More often than not, the fish would snap the line. Oftentimes the line would break after accumulating a bunch of leaves as it cut through the water -- pulled by the steelhead.

Broken lines and blue skies made for a great morning. But throughout the day I thought of the site we had seen during the drive east -- safety crews working on an overturned SUV in the westbound lane. Tragically, one person died and another was in serious condition. Saying prayers for them both.

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.

Leaves and Steel

It just looks like this steelhead is trying to eat the oak leaf. The Great Lakes steelheader must get used to leaves this time of year.

A closer look shows a minnow fly in the steelhead's mouth.

Yes, that is a Simms boa boot in the background. The boot lives up to its hype. Very comfortable and very easy to get on and off. What more can a river rat ask for?

Deciding When to Go

The windshield wipers whipped back and forth to clear off the water spray generated by the silver pickup truck in front of us as we headed north on Interstate 71. The drizzle had turned into a steady rain and by the time we got to head east on Interstate 90 Jerry and I were debating our decision to fish Elk Creek.

The USGS charts (the Internet's greatest contribution to the river angler) showed the rivers were high, but starting to drop and the web cam -- yes there are web cams on rivers -- showed a few hearty souls were on Elk Creek. But as we drove east the rain got heavier and the second guessing started. A phone call to one of the bait shops told us that the rain hadn't arrived in Erie yet and we decided to keep going. All fishermen are optimists and irrational. In this case we were optimistic that the rain showing up on the radar would magically not head east.

We told ourselves that we'd get a chance to get out of the house, go for a walk and scout out the river. Of course we could have done the same thing much closer to home.

By the time we arrived the river was full, brown and telling us we should have turned around. The sky started spitting rain before we even got rigged up and kept falling most of the day. Being the hard-core anglers we are, we fished despite the conditions. Jerry got a dunking after I dramatically misjudged the depth of one hole, but he kept on fishing. (He's harder core than most, including me.)

Jerry picked up two fish and I lost one. Not the best of days, but better than staying home.

Parking Lot Whine

The gray clouds pressed down on the barren tree tops and snow flakes blew in the wind. Temperatures hovered at the freezing mark. The dreary weather was being reinforced by the parking lot whine.

"I've been fishing these rivers for thirty years and I've never seen the numbers so low," one angler assured another. "Didn't see a single fish; slow water or fast water," complained another. My wife has observed that stream fishermen complain a lot -- the water is too high or it's too low. Or the hatch is over or it hasn't started yet. We'll say anything really to explain our failure to outsmart the fish with a pea-sized brain. And the whine was flowing about as strong as Elk Creek itself on Saturday at mid-day.

We anglers whine because it is easier than remembering the wisdom of Judge John Voelker, who told us that trout "respond only to quietude and humility and endless patience." If there is no crying in baseball, there should be no whining in fishing for trout.

And I certainly had no right to whine. We were on our way to Buffalo to pick up the Global One, and my wife agreed to humor me with a brief detour to the river. She stood on the bank and shivered as I checked out a few holes near the parking lot. As I searched the water I thought that perhaps the whiners might be partially right. Although, I had hooked into more than a dozen fish the previous week, they had been found way upstream. Many fishermen don't appreciate how steelhead move in waves and one stretch could be barren, while the next run could be full of fish. I haven't fished Elk enough this year to know whether the numbers are down, but I suspect the parking lot anglers were short on endless patience. In search of quietude, I decided my best bet was to avoid fishing the long slow pools -- where winter steelhead (and the humans that chase them) often hang out. Instead, I chose to explore the loud, fast water that most fishermen walk on past.

The water rushed over boulders and broken shale just upstream of a slow stretch that apparently held more anglers than fish. Winter steelhead generally avoid whitewater and fast runs, but this run included a handful of pockets deep enough for fish to hide in. I figured that a few fish that were likely pushed out of the pool down below by the day's parade of anglers might be hiding among the boulders.

I added a second split shot to make sure the fly would get to the bottom of the deeper parts of the run, and I promptly hooked into a solid buck. The run would quickly yield two more fish before the buzzer sounded and it was time to head back to the car to resume the drive to Buffalo. As I hiked back to the parking lot, I thought of the whine I had heard an hour earlier. My only whine was that I wouldn't have more time to enjoy the wonders of Elk Creek on a gray December day.

First Fall Silver and Synthetic Fish

From Oct steelhead 2010

October brought the best kind of weather -- cool nights and steady rains -- but I've been traveling a lot and working more, so I haven't had much chance to check out the early runs of the Fall 2010 season. But on Sunday, Anne (armed with camera) and I (armed with Scott 7-weight) decided to head east and explore. We started on the Conneaut River, which I vow to fish more every season. It's been years since I've caught the Conneaut when the flow/timing was right and Sunday was more of the same. The water was low and the flow slight. Only a handful of spots in the two miles of river that I hiked had deep enough runs to hold fish. The Conneaut carries a tanic color in the fall that helps shield the fish from view, and can tend to discourage the angler on an early season scouting trip.

Because Pennsylvania stocks the Conneaut, it is the Ohio river that gets the earliest run of fall fish. Undoubtedly there are steelies in Conneaut already, but I only saw one skipper caught in the morning and all I managed was a single sucker.

The morning started overcast, and it looked like it might rain so I decided to make the drive along Highway 5 and check out the lower Elk in Pennsylvania. As we pulled into the jammed public access lot it became clear that not enough Browns-Steelers fans had decided to tailgate in advance of the game. As I walked down river the fishermen were stacked up, filling every likely spot. Thankfully two anglers exited as I was considering my options and I moved into a deep run that still held a few fish despite the heavy pressure.

On my first cast I hooked a shiny female on a bead-headed brassy and slowly brought her to hand. Oh, if steelheading were always that easy. Anne got some nice pictures of the second fish of the day (by then the sun had come out and the clouds had vaporized). The bright sun made the fish even more skittish and we decided to end the day early.

After lunch at the Avonia Tavern, we checked out the steelhead at Trout Run. It's always a little sad to see hundreds of steelhead stacked up in the small creek trying in vain to find a way upstream to spawn. Trout Run is where the eggs for future stockings are harvested, so for those of us who love the Pennsylvania steelhead run it's a necessary evil.

From Oct steelhead 2010

While it can be fun to watch the fish try to jump the falls, it is also a reminder that there's nothing truly natural about these rainbow trout. As Anders Halverson points out, these truly are a synthetic fish.

Elk Creek With the Wife

I've been fishing Elk Creek for about 15 years and, remarkably, my wife has never tagged along. Anne doesn't fish -- at least not much. But she enjoys the outdoors as much as I do, and loves to use her camera to capture God's wonders. But she's always deferred on the long haul east, mainly because the thought of waking well before dawn doesn't have much appeal to her.

But this morning I was in no hurry to get out early, and Anne took me up on the offer to head east together. We started out at the Legion Park and found the water high and dark (due to the decaying leaves). Anglers were reporting few fish and there didn't seem to be promising spots to fish that would be convenient for Anne. So we headed south to a stretch of the river upstream from Folly's. I hadn't fished the stretch in years, but found it to be in good shape. The water was clear in the riffles, but murky in the runs. A nice stretch of broken water was open and I moved in while checking with the man fishing upstream. He said he had hooked a few, but had only landed one. He landed another while I was getting rigged up and I figured we were in for a good day.

On the third cast I hooked and landed a nice male on an orange crystal meth with a bead. I proceeded to hook several more over the next 10 casts and lost them all. And that became the storyline of the day. The fish would move through every 20 minutes or so in pods and I'd hook several in a row, only to lose them all. The fish often charged right at me, sometimes in the water and sometimes through the air. Suffice to say the fish were hot and my skills were limited. Anne took several pictures, but grew tired of sitting on a log watching me fail to land a fish. She had decided she wanted to get her picture taken with a steelhead. And I spoiled the plan by failing to land another. Hopefully it won't take me 15 more years to give her a another chance to have her picture taken with an Elk Creek steelie.
Anne has Erie trips usually involve getting up before dawn to get on the water at first light. So AnnNow that the kids are off doing incredibly amazing things of the

Hidden Fish and Pocket Water

Avid Lake Erie steelheaders encounter three kinds of fishing situations. First, one often has the chance to site fish to pods of steelhead in murky to clear water. Second, is blind fishing in a spot where fish have been caught before. You may not see the fish, but experience guides both your expectations and your drift. Finally, and most challenging, is fishing a new stretch of river where one has to think and study the water to find fish.

On Saturday, after hooking a few fish on a familiar stretch of Elk Creek, we went for long hike to fish a stretch that I had never tried before. The water was a little murky, particularly in the faster runs. And the fish seemed to be avoiding the slower pools. The strategy was simple. Find fast, deep water and probe the depths for steelhead. There are very few spots on Elk Creek with good pocket water, so there was a lot of hiking and occasional fishing. The key was finding spots where busted shale and rare boulders conspired to channel the current through narrow chutes. Whitewater would bubble up as the water crashed into the rocks, or tumbled over shale shelfs. The whitewater provided additional cover to the steelhead. The water rushes through the chutes so fast that it can pick up and carry even weighted flies past the fish so fast that the fish don't even notice. The conflicting currents can create small areas of slack water; that is why it's know as pocket water. A well placed cast, followed by a few strategic mends can slow the drift and get your fly down deep in the pocket, and out will pop a silver-as-a-dime steelie. At least that's the theory.

The above female proved out the theory on Saturday. After inhaling the pink and red egg, she took off screaming downstream. The reel spun and I chased. At one point, she charged back at me and I quickly picked up as much slack as I could. After a few minutes, I was able to bring her to the bank and snap this picture before returning her to the stream.

I learned a few more spots that hold fish on Saturday, and look forward to the next chance to pick some steelies out of the pockets along Steelhead Alley.

Time to Start Thinking Steel

This week has been the hottest of the year. Nonetheless, it is time to start thinking about steelhead. We are less than 30 days from the first reports of steelies sticking their noses into the Erie streams, only to rush back out when the temperatures rise above 80 again (which they will).

This year will be a little different for me. Instead of planning my first steelhead outing of the year, I'm counting down the days to Yellowstone -- read the Chi Wulff blog for the latest news from there. By the time I'm back from Yellowstone, I'm hoping the first serious run of fish will be in Conneaut and Elk creeks and it'll be cool enough to merit a drive east. Last year the first steelhead didn't come until October. It's been a cool summer (except for this week) so I'm betting on an early run.

Santa Clouser

The Lake Erie tributary Elk Creek is home to a nearly obscene number of steelhead every fall and winter as thousands of stocked fish return from the lake in a mainly futile attempt to spawn. I always will remember hooking my first Elk Creek steelhead on an icy February morning more than a decade ago. I watched as the steelhead turned and inhaled a pink egg fly. It occurred on my first drift. It was that easy.

Elk has given up many more steelhead since then, but not always that easily. The nice thing about the sheer numbers of fish in Elk Creek is the river provides us with an opportunity to try different techniques without worrying about not catching fish. This past Dec. 26th was just such a day. The fish were plentiful and by late morning my arm was tired from fighting eager, but sluggish steelhead. The flow on Brandy Run was dropping from 12 cfs to 8 cfs. The color was dark green in runs over three feet deep and fish were packed together in tight schools. The bad news in this environment is snagged fish become commonplace. One way to avoid foul hookups is to swing a fly in front of the fish.

After foul hooking a few fish in a row in a very crowded run that looked to hold a few trophy fish, I decided to tie on a clouser minnow onto my shortened leader and try the swing. The lead eyes kept the fly near the bottom and after several uneventful swings, a steelhead crushed the fly and put up a hearty fight before coming to shore. I kept the clouser on for the rest of the day and regularly hooked steelies, including one monster from a deep chute. I watched as he rose from the bottom to take the fly. As soon as he felt the hook, he leaped from the water and raced downstream. The first and only jumper on this cold day (the temperature hit 40 degrees as we were leaving at 3 pm). Yes, the fish were relatively easy, but there's something special about watching a giant fish rise up from the bottom to inhale a fly.

Elk Creek again reminded me that while drifting nymphs and eggs is a lot of fun, nothing beats doing the swing with the steelhead.

Novice and Steelhead

Elk Creek near Erie, Pennsylvania, is a river meant for novice steelhead anglers. Stocked with thousands of steelhead every year, the small stream literally overflows with fish ranging in size from 14 inches to more than 30 inches.

The narrow river flows over shale bedrock for most of it length and holding water for the fish can be easily found. The water clears quickly and the schools of fish can be spotted, easily as well.

On Friday afternoon I had the pleasure of taking a novice to Elk Creek to experience the early season steelhead run. Rebecca had fished for steelhead once before, a spring outing that allowed her the chance to hook and land several fish hanging out in shallow runs while they prepared to spawn.

On Friday, Elk Creek was clearing from a rain that hit late Wednesday and early Thursday. The air temperature was 52 degrees and overcast, but clearing. Since no one works anymore (this is just a slight exageration) the parking lot at Legion Park was full of cars and the river was littered with fishermen. Thankfully, after a short walk downstream, we were able to find a deep run at the end of a large pool that was populated with fish, but not fishermen. Twenty yards downstream the tail spilled into a fast riffle where one angler flailed away without success. A few spin fishermen tried the slow pool. And before we could get started, another fly fisher set up shop across the stream from us and slightly upstream. I tied on a red and yellow sucker spawn with a psycho nymph trailer. A white strike indicator and tiny spit shot were added to the leader and I made a short cast to try begin to show Rebecca the tricks of dead-drift nymphing. On just the second cast the indicator paused, the rod lifted, the hook set and the fish took off. She turned into a brilliantly silver hen about 24 inches long. She put up a hardy fight, before coming to shore.

The hen had taken the nymph and many more would follow her lead this afternoon. Rebecca would learn that landing fresh, fall run steelhead required a delicate touch and a steady hand. She also learned that pinching fly line against the cork handle of the fly rod is a recipe for snapped line. We manage to lose more than our share of steelhead this day, but we also landed several. While Rebecca dead drifted, I tried swinging wet flies and woolly buggers. I was pleased to land my first steelhead on a wet fly, a pheasent tail with an over-sized hackle. The hen crushed the fly, put up a very spirited fight and then came to shore, just like it was supposed to happen. Rebecca wasn't the only novice enjoying the remarkable day on Elk Creek.