Was this it?

I went to RI Friday night with Steve Culton. He forgot the port, but the cigars were good and the fishing was sensational. We didn't catch much - maybe half a dozen stripers between us - but the work week had been hard and to stand in a salt pond in the midst of thousands of menhaden, literally bathing in fish, with the wind blowing and the senses alive, well, it's a wonderful way to end the week, and quite necessary. It hardly seems to matter that the fall run seems to be "disappointing" this year, or at least that we haven't been lucky enough to guess the right night.

Ready for RI&PP. I have a new head lamp. It shines blue as well as red.

I always look forward to visiting my parents in law, who have a wild brook trout stream at the bottom of their garden. They happen to be nice folks too.

I followed the brook as far as I could and ended up in mountain goat territory, catching one trout in each pool along the way; from 9" beauties to some of the smallest I've ever seen - fish of little over 2" that would look a better prospect with a yoke sack attached. I sat on a parapet downstream of the culvert (above) and pinged a hopper up into the opening. I think the fish must see out the heat of summer in this deeper hole, as I took 6 of them from this one spot alone.



 The stream is in western CT, barely an hour from NYC. I think this is an incredible fact.

I think it may have been the best day of the year.

Here is a picture of one of the fish. It isn't very good because I couldn't capture all the colors and vibrancy of today.

You really had to be there.

-- JA
 

Bison for Salmon

Like me, my oldest fishing friend Colin has just turned 40. He continues to target Atlantic Salmon in Scotland, while my move to New England took me away from such pleasures and towards a new affair with saltwater stripers. Since I recently took up fly tying, I said I'd attempt some salmon flies as a birthday gift, and I wanted to tie the very simple Sunray Shadow, or the "moustache" as we call it - a killer top water salmon fly. Flies like this - the Collie Dog being the most famous - are quite long and undulate in the water as they're stripped in short pulls across the surface. I've fished seemingly dead salmon pools and had fish on every other cast slam this fly. Converting takes to hooked fish is another story, but the Sunray certainly causes a stir. 

I didn't have the Kashmir goat hair required of the original, but I had some nice goat wool, yak hair, bucktail, and some Bison, the latter donated by Andrew from his chum Steve Rinella (a piece from the very buffalo of his book, American Buffalo - In Search of a Lost Icon.) I tied the flies with variations of these materials. It took me some weeks to source the other materials - the small bore aluminum tube and the rubber hook inserts where finally located in the excellent hardware store in Old Saybrook, CT. 

They might just work, and I'll report if and when Colin manages to hook a salmon with one. Obviously I'm hopeful that an Alaskan buffalo proves the downfall of a Scottish Atlantic Salmon.

Close up - the brown buffalo hair (middle) has an eel-like waviness that I like.

JA

Drenched

Last August I visited a local spot on the Sound and happened upon several decent stripers - it was a warm afternoon and I recall throwing a black Clouser on an intermediate line up current and "nymphing" it back to me. It's the Dog Days again and although I know chances aren't good, I'm compelled to go and see. Better anglers time their visits to coincide with more productive times, but predicting patterns in movement of bait and predators, tides and climate, is fine on paper. The reality is I get curious and need to take a peek. I'm lucky being 5 minutes drive from some water. I'm also cultivating an impressive collection of cigar tubes and sand in my car - more motivation to go fishing.  

The culvert had begun to dispense the outgoing tide. An obvious rip formed in the shallows of the bay, moving water in contradicting eddies. There was bait everywhere - the tell-tale signs of blue crabs paddling in the surface film (do they know what they're doing or are they helpless to the current?); tiny silversides in singles and very occasionally bursting in numbers; and something else, either tight schools of bait or bigger animals cruising the flat water in noticeable V formation.  Perhaps they are shad, or the bunker that we tried so hard to catch last year. They say shad are easy to catch - perhaps when they prove difficult they are bunker! 

I spent an hour fishing a floating line and a Big Eelie fly; nothing scientific, just the first to hand. For better or worse, having lost my beloved 10' 7 weight last year to a car door, I may be getting more proficient with the 9' 9 weight, seemingly the industry standard. At any rate, last night I was pleased to be able to double haul the whole line *quite effortlessly with only 2 or 3 back-casts (*fake, windless conditions). 

Casting was the highlight tonight. I knew I'd catch nothing, so I was on the money, the pattern verified. Osprey, night heron, blue heron, and all manner of LBJs were around at dusk. Thankfully they were the only creatures to see me run for the sanctity of my air conditioned vehicle after only an hour, drenched through. 

--Jon

Block Island All-Nighter: Andrew's Last Stand

The poor bugger is leaving for Ohio, where there are no fish. So we went to BI to get him a keeper bass before he's landlocked. Me, Steve, Bob, and Andrew have been fishing together quite a bit these past years, so it was the right posse. We behaved quite badly without contravening any laws.

We fished all night and Andrew got into a few large stripers in the mid 30" range, exactly the class of fish he wanted. We went to a beach and within a short time he was dancing porgy and large ocean bass. It worked out just perfectly because on this very rare occasion he caught many more fish than I did and by far the bigger specimens. [Of course, I didn't actually attach a fly to my line, so keen was I for Andrew to have the sport just this once].

Here's the tale.

We crossed Block Island Sound on a trawler.


I am the best looking of the group.


I really am.


This is not a "wiper".


I don't know why he always tilts his head like this. It's a gay thing, I think.


Steve insists on thrusting all his fish up to the camera to make them look bigger. It's the modern way.


All done.


JA

Boat!

Turning 40 has a silver lining - a birthday present of a long awaited fishing kayak. She tracks wonderfully and is quite quick, as well as being nice and stable for fly fishing the local inland waters. Fitted with a rod holder, I'm ready to roll. This morning, the only fish I saw were of the jelly variety. Which is fine, as I'm enjoying the simple wonders of just being afloat.

12' Sit on Top Perception Pescador