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Old 10-11-2011, 02:06 AM   #1
MikeWaters
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Default Fly fishing trip #2 to the Lower Mountain Fork River

Our first trip was with a great Orvis-endorsed guide. If you need a recommendation, send me a line and I will pass on a referral. He taught us something very important that neither Paul nor I were familiar with: nymphing. And as it turns out, the trout in this river are extremely picky about presentation. The key is to get your drift speed exactly the same as the speed of the river, while keeping slack out of your line, so you can set the hook. Easier said than done.

So Paul consented to yet another trout trip with yours truly. It had been a rough week for me at work, with limited sleep. But this was a free weekend, and those don't come all that often. Got into the motel late Friday night, and the Indian proprietor recognized me and Paul, and made a big deal out of us being repeat customers, in front of a new customer. Very friendly guy, probably one of the "Motel Patels" as my Indian friend used to joke. I had thought this would be a particularly good weekend to hit the river, because of the OU vs. t.u. game in Dallas. You figured that most of the worst human beings within 200 miles would be out of commission. I was thus surprised when the new customer said that all the campsites in the state park had been taken. Why? Was the weather cooling off and that was enough reason? Mr. "Patel" let me in on the secret: it's hunting season. Ahh. Hunting trumps football, even for Okies. But maybe the river would still be pretty empty of other anglers.

There in the motel, while digging through my fishing gear, I stumbled on a nasty surprise. My wife's keys. How in the heck? Did one of my kids knock the keys off the vanity into my plastic container of gear? Who knows? The call to the wife was full of consternation and indignation on the other side. On my side it was "the bad news is that I have your keys." Fluffing of feathers and squawks, followed by "what's the good news." "The good news is that your keys are not lost. I found them." Why can't some people appreciate good news?

Next morning up at 6am, hard to drag myself out of bed due to sleep deprivation during the week. A breakfast of pop tarts, and we were off. The firs stop was at Evening Hole, which was the same place we had started at with our guide in August. It had been a good spot, and we knew the holes and techniques to use. I caught 6 bows with a push technique directly in front of me, going towards a hole. You stand in the shallow part of the river right before the deep hole. And you bring the line to your feet and let it drift in front pushing your rod out forward so you can track the slack, and be ready for a strike, then gradually letting the rod lower as you get further out. I'm embarrassed to say that 3 of the 6 caught were hooked on the body. That happens when you are late setting the hook. The trout has spit out the nymph, and it is by the trout when you set the hook.

I may have mentioned in my last report that here at Evening Hole, the trout would actually get right up next to your legs, using your legs as a break in the current. In fact, that's why you push forward in front of you with the line, because the fish will start to line up in your current shadow. Paul and I stood together and could see the fish right in front of us. I got some pics of the fish, as well as video with my point & shoot. Can you see the bow?




Here is underwater footage of a rainbow in the same place:


At the Evening Hole, you are not allowed to keep any trout under 20 inches. So we decided to head upriver where you can legally catch and keep any size rainbow. Since I had started fly fishing this summer, it had been my goal to bring a prize back home for human consumption. At least one. And on my trip with the guide that had not been possible due to his rules. These guides are pretty uniform about not allowing their clients to keep fish. But in my defense this river is stocked with rainbows every 2 weeks, and every fish I kept (foreshadowing) was no doubt once stocked and not wild-born.

It's funny, when you are with the guide, you are kinda keeping mental track of where you are fishing. Because you figure you will be back later. It's also funny when you come back several weeks later, how hard it is to remember where the holes are. We went upstream to the Spillway Creek. The first hole wasn't very successful for me, pretty far upstream right where the big bend is. Then again, that hole had not worked for me with the guide. So we started heading back downstream. Came on what I thought was the hole that had been gangbusters for me the previous time. The rock that I had fished around the previous time was now underwater, so the river was now a bit higher than it had been during August. And I was not having success.

Then I moved past the log-break in the stream, and boom, got a hit. I have had several experiences of losing fish off my line. So I was full of nervous tension and called out for Paul, just downstream of me to help net the fish, so I wouldn't have to bring it in close. The fish got right next to him, and he misses with his net. Then again, right next to him, he misses again! And then gets off the line on his next run. I was kinda pissed. It was like my partner in crime had back-rimmed a game-winning slamdunk. But I realized I needed to man up and net my own fish, rather than blame my partner. Finally did get a couple of rainbows on the zug bug nymph, which I purchased at thetroutspot.com.





The technique used here is a side presentation of a nymph. Cast to 2pm and drift it to 5pm. The presentation is absolutely critical. And I am not very good at it. I was set up with an indicator, split shot, nymph + drop nymph. Lots of tying. And tangles. In fact, I spent a good part of the day untangling and cutting my tangles.

I was having a long dry stretch, while Paul was having a very nice stretch. He's a better fisher than me, but also more experienced. We (meaning I) decided to further upstream Spillway Creek to "Heart Attack Hill" and fish there, just as we had in August. Back in August I had had zero success there, and it was a frustrating finish to an otherwise pretty good day. I didn't want to be skunked again. I took a promising spot, and Paul took a spot just upstream of me. I wasn't having any success, but Paul suggested I get on the other side of the river and fish the rock he was fishing around. Said he had gotten some strikes. It wasn't long before I had a nice strike and set the hook. Biggest fish of the day, at about 13.5 inches. Nothing to write home about, but I was glad that I had finally broken a long dry spell. It was caught on a pheasant tail nymph (size 16).




A couple more small ones were caught behind a big rock. It was getting late. There was an albino rainbow that we could see. So I was sight-fishing trying to hook him. Not sure what I would have done with him, don't think I could actually eat an albino fish. So I would have let him go. It's not generally a good survival technique to be an albino fish in a dark river. I had caught five, only one more to the limit, and I decided to try a dry fly for fun, since I had seen a few slurps on the surface. No luck, and it was time to wrap it up. By then I was exhausted, having trekked around the river all day without a break.

But the best part was being with Paul. He's a wonderful man that I had spent many campouts and evenings with in my prior calling in my past ward. Although our ages are very different, we have similar interests, and he is a good friend. We talked of many things--old friends, church history, family, land, fishing, and the list goes on and on. After all, it was more than 6 hours of driving. I'm not sure that I make for a good fishing buddy, but I know he does. We're going to get his (adult) son out the next time we go. Maybe do a little reactivation work with him.

I commented to Paul that the trip was not very zen. I'm just not good enough to relax at all, and I'm very results-oriented because I know that lack of results is because of poor technique. So the focus is on improving technique. But even without zen, I love the challenge of applying knowledge to the task at hand and being rewarded from time to time with a bit of catchin'.

If you get an itch to learn how to fly fish, you had better go for it. It's a sorry man that wanted to fly fish, but died before he ever did. Trust me.

And yes the fish were very yummy, a little flour, salt and pepper. My young daughter didn't want to eat any, but she finally did, and ran into the living to tell me that she had eaten 3 big bites, and it was "delicious." That makes it all worth while. Someday she will be on the river with me. And that's even better.

Last edited by MikeWaters; 10-11-2011 at 03:55 AM.
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