Fly Fishing 201, Crane frustration, stinkbait, and Missouri pyromaniacs…

You can probably call me the “ultimate” newb in the group. Chance seems to have been born with a fly rod in his hand. Cole gave an account of his history with the passion last week. Donny bought his first fly outfit a little under a year ago. I, on the other hand, have just only recently dove head-first into the great obsession that is fly fishing. In the last three months I have evolved from talking about wanting to get a rod and give it a try - to owning a full set-up of gear, having fly fishing catalogs from Cabela’s, Orvis, and L.L. Bean scattered across my apartment, and collecting scrap pieces of tippet between my toes as I walk barefoot across my living room. As I type this there are three internet windows minimized up on my computer that contain information on gear reviews, fishing tactics, and water generation schedules. Yeah, I’ve got it bad.

Prior to this weekend I had only been fly fishing for trout twice on the Lower Illinois, which is a great place for a beginner to learn. But with a weekend trip to the Current River rapidly approaching, The Bum decided it was time to put us on some more technical water. So Chance, Cole, Donny, and I left Broken Arrow around 6 a.m. on Sunday morning loaded down with about three gallons of coffee, some EXCELLENT chocolate chip muffins courtesy of Chance’s wonderful wife (I hope she reads this so we can have some for the next trip), and bellies full of my more questionable homemade breakfast burritos. Our destination was Roaring River, with the lesson plan covering the skills of mending, proper weight usage, and fishing elbow-to-elbow with the rest of the crowd.

About two and a half hours later we pulled up to the park store to get our fishing licenses and trout stamps, along with a few last minute flies, then we geared up and headed down to a stretch of the catch and release area. There were a few cars in the parking lot, so we were pleased to see only one other fisherman in view. This water was like looking through glass compared to the Lower Illinois and definitely had more flow than we were used to, at least for me and The Don. Chance and Cole waded straight in and put lines on the water, while Donny and I worked our way up stream a ways. Within a couple hundred yards we found a couple pools with about a dozen fish stacked up like dominoes and we set to it.

We threw everything but our hats at them and couldn’t get ONE bite. We were trying everything. Mending, changing presentation, changing flies… it didn’t matter, nothing worked. The fish wouldn’t even move, not one look. I could hear Donny laugh in frustration as fish jumped five feet away, and I watched as a fish almost ran between my feet. Cole was still fishing around the same stretch he had started on, while Chance had moved around the bend and out of sight. Finally I heard Donny set the hook. ‘Ata boys were being proclaimed and hopes were rising while he landed the fish… a perch. Hmm… Well a fish landed is a fish landed in my book, and something was biting so I got back to fishing. I tied on an orange beadhead wooly bugger and got a couple of good fish to follow it, but they still weren’t biting. It was starting to warm up, and after another half hour had passed Chance walked back up to where we were. We decided to head to the truck and shed a layer.

After refueling ourselves on coffee and muffins we headed downstream. Chance said they had been biting around the bend, and had caught some ridiculous number of fish (like seventeen) on some magical little fly he had tied and only had a couple on him. So we tied on whatever we could find that looked similar and waded in. This is where mending school really began and within a couple of casts Chance had me on the fish. I caught one right off on a beadhead BWO emerger, but after a bit switched to eggs and they really started biting. These fish were good and fat, and seemed content on eating whatever color egg I threw at them. I must have been on the prime spot because Donny and Cole weren’t having much luck. After a while the fish quit biting and it had become a little crowded in our area, so we decided to pack it in and move down river a bit.

We headed down to the no wading area of zone two and spread out along the bank. This place was definitely a popular spot and had plenty of people moving around trying to find the fish. I got lucky and staked out a nice area where the water stepped down and the fish were feeding. I hooked a couple on eggs before I noticed the fish were feeding off the top of the water, so I tied on a blue winged olive and set my sights on the fish that seemed to be feeding the most. My heart would rise and fall as I would watch fish after fish come toward my fly… only to eat the bug next to it or shy away at the last moment. Finally, after this happened ten or thirty times, one took the BWO and I landed my first catch with a dry fly!

The rest of the guys had all moved up to where the trout had stacked up in a big pool next to a dock for the handicapped, and there were some real pigs in there. You could watch as a couple of 20+” monsters worked their way around the pool, and Chance got one to hook up and fight for a bit before it shook him off. Other than that not many fish were biting here, and space on the dock began to get scarce so we pointed the truck toward Crane.

Now we had all heard and read about Chance’s adventures on Crane Creek in the past and the challenges it presented, but none of us had ever been there. Just listening to a description of the place and the methods required to be successful were enough to plant the seeds of doubt in my mind… but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to give it a try. Our 9’ 5 wt. rods weren’t going to be much use here so we rigged up a couple of Chance’s short rods and tramped down to the water. Fully intending to play guide for a while, Chance didn’t carry a rod, and was tossing last minute tips and strategies over his shoulder as we made our way downstream. The plan was to take turns fishing our way back toward the bridge, and I was “volunteered” as first at bat. Well, I spent my time at the first hole learning how to cast a 6’ 3 wt. from my knees. No luck. We started working our way upstream, leap-frogging from bend to bend. Donny’s 9’ rod put him at a severe disadvantage here, but he did find some neat fossils on the riverbank before finding a deep pool that he could jig his fly through. I skipped up stream a ways and found a long, straight stretch of the creek that I could cast down the middle. Or so I thought, as I quickly found myself a tree-fish that kept half of the leader as a trophy. I decided I better give Chance his rod back before I broke it. Cole was finding tree-fish too, so we fired our guide and told him to go fishing. After all, we wanted to see a McCloud first-hand and daylight was rapidly fading. Not one to let his buddies down, Chance hooked up on his second cast!

And again not ten minutes later!

By this time I was content just watching and learning, but Cole on the other hand had declared a vengeance against Crane Creek and its McCloud rainbows. As daylight slipped away and we found ourselves walking back to the truck, Cole was still fishing his way upstream. It wasn’t until we had all of our gear packed away that he came walking out of the woods, vowing to come back and conquer the Crane on another day.

Often when you’re traveling you get to experience new things, sights and smells that you don’t encounter everyday in your neck of the woods… like the sun rising over a snow capped mountain top, or the smell of a turkey farm alongside the road. We weren’t ten minutes on the road to home when a smell overcame the truck that sent us all to gagging and the windows down. We couldn’t get away from it! It smelled as if some gremlin had lined the a/c vents with Danny King’s stinkbait. I’m telling you this smell was vile, and we could not find where it was coming from! When the light-headedness finally passed another smell greeted us… smoke. I was starting to wonder if the eye watering-lung burning-stomach turning-gag a maggot-stinkbait odor had fried my sense of smell when Donny spotted a burning brush pile. And another, and not a mile down the road another! The more we got to thinking about it we realized we had seen something burning nearly everywhere we went in Missouri that day. By the time we crossed back into Oklahoma, we had counted over a dozen burn piles. After we got home I looked around on the internet to see if Sunday had been Missouri’s “burn stuff in your yard” day or if we had unknowingly run over Bigfoot and carried his stench home with us- but couldn’t find a thing. I guess we’ll have to do some investigating on our next trip into The Show Me State…



Crik

The Passion of the Fly

Like many of you out there who enjoy the sport, I grew up with fishing as a part of life. I can't tell you when my first experience with fishing occurred, nor can I tell you when I caught my first fish. I do, however, vividly recall the first fish I caught that left a lasting imprint on my young mind. It was a three pound largemouth bass taken on a windless, balmy summer evening by a black and green beetle spin, just off the edge of the moss line in our family farm pond. I remember the wake the fish made as it chased down my lure and the feeling of extreme anticipation (and maybe even a little fear) as I watched the fish take. I remember feeling the strain of the fish as I set the hook on my fiberglass rod topped with the always faithful Zebco 33. I remember marveling at the size of his huge mouth as I hoisted him from the water. To anyone else in the world it was just another bass, but compared to the tiny bluegills I was accustomed to catching, this fish was a "monster"!!

Growing up in Western Oklahoma, a guy like me would be the last one you would have expected to pick up a fly rod. Granted the species I chased as a youngster in the local farm ponds differed somewhat from those traditionally pursued by fly fishermen of the time, but the experience for me was still the same. I remember being told that a fly rod was used mainly by well dressed, well spoken anglers for trout who resided in far off lands of clear blue skies, with no wind, and misty mornings. So, why the Hell are we going to use one in Oklahoma, I wondered in my teenage mind? After a little practice in the yard and the reassurance of "you'll get the hang of it," my Dad whisked me away to our local haunt to show me just what could be done with this new found instrument. To say the least, that first time on the water was a little awkward as I am sure all beginning fly fishermen would agree (with the exception of Chance who I think was born with a rod in his hand!). But, I knew a few things for sure after that day......when you actually managed to get the line out on the water without it looking like a bomb went off, bluegill would absolutely murder a small popper twitched ever so slightly over their nesting grounds, a bass would explode seemingly out of nowhere on a hair bug, and both fought more (at least in my mind) on a fly rod in the hand than the 'ol spincast outfit. It seemed as though every fish caught felt like the legendary "monster" bass I caught all those years ago.

So, that is how the "Passion of the Fly" began. The more I fished with the rod, the more I began to understand fishing as a "sport" instead of a means to make a meal. I began to build a respect for the fly rod and the connection it seemed to make between fisherman and fish. But, little did I know that my love affair with the new found method of fishing would be cut short. I'll admit that there was a darker time in my past, mostly due to being a teenager and Western Oklahoma winds that no living creature should ever have to endure, where the fly rod was laid down in favor of the quicker and "easier" baitcaster!! But, throughout that "experimental" stage of my youth when plastic worms, spinner baits, and hula poppers were the norm, the faithful fly rod always loomed in the back of my mind. Sadly, it was quickly dismissed as too much "work" for a kid interested only in catching and keeping as many fish as he could, in the least amount of time possible. And so the neglect of the fly rod continued for many years as high school came and went, free time in college was spent performing other "necessary" extracurricular activities, and slowly my life ahead began to take shape.

It wasn't until I had settled on Broken Arrow, OK as the location for my official transplant, and my second year of marriage had nearly been put in the books that I received a call from an old college buddy, Mr. Chance Maxville. The plan was to spend a four day weekend on the Current River in MO chasing trout with fly rods. Fly rods? Trout? Are you serious? I hadn't cast a fly rod in dang near a decade, not to mention I had NEVER fished for trout in my life! Reluctantly I agreed to the whole madness, on the condition that I could bring a spinning rod with an assortment of essential "trout lures" that all the Internet articles said I needed as a back up for my fly rod.

Needless to say, the spinning rod never saw the light of the day after our arrival in MO. I was "convinced" by the other members of our party that the fly rod would be a much better choice. After an afternoon of frustration of not having cast the damn thing (even thinking about it now gets me frustrated!!) for so long, and managing to catch only tree trout & bush bass, I finally hooked my first trout ever on a dry fly. It was a beautiful little brown like nothing I had ever seen. And, to sweeten the deal, it was taken on a dry fly tied by none other than Mr. Derek Matz, one of my best friends and fellow sufferer of all things fly fishing. Upon landing that fish, the Rolodex of memories in my head began to spin taking me back all those years to the farm ponds of Western Oklahoma where I chased bluegill and bass on the fly. It wasn't until later while sitting around the glow of the campfire that I realized what had occurred. No longer was I the kid that cared only about catching as many fish as I could, as fast as I could. With that one trout brought to hand by a fly rod, all the frustrations of the afternoon had melted away and I realized that fishing could be about so much more. The stars must have aligned just right that night, & the fish gods must have smiled, because the following day of our trip was amazing and one we still talk about to this day. There is nothing like catching trout with dry flies on a scenic river to bring a new meaning and kindle the spirit for the sport. To this day I thank Chance & Derek for convincing me to go on that trip, and for steering me towards fishing with my fly rod once again.

Due to the demands of life and the pursuit of the "American Dream" the opportunities for me to chase fish on the fly since that trip have been a little sporadic at best. But, because of that, any time I do get the chance to chase fish with a fly rod in my hand, be it bluegill and bass from the neighborhood puddles or trout stocked in the Lower Illinois, is time well spent to feed the need. Sure, I still enjoy chasing fish with conventional tackle and have nothing against those who do. But to me, there is nothing like the calming factor and connection you get when fishing by a method used for hundreds of years by previous generations of anglers.

So, in closing I would like to thank Chance for getting me interested in the sport again, and for allowing me the opportunity to post about it on this blog. I feel fortunate to have a friend who feels so passionate (to the point of being obsessed) about the sport, and who has given his time & advice to make me a better fisherman.

Until next time......keep squinting, and tight lines.

_c_A_c_

Happy Easter! Enjoy the pictures!

Camping, Rising Trout, Turkeys Gobbling, and the smell of Sasquatch...

The trip had been planned all week. Plan A was to go to the White River and fish the Caddis hatch. If that was a wash due to generation, Plan B was to go to the Current River and fish the Caddis hatch. One way or another we were going to be fishing over rising trout this weekend.

Well, the whole thing was almost a bust when a big storm rolled through the area on top of the snow storm that hit us a week ago. We knew Plan A was out the window because Bull Shoals Dam was generating HEAVY already. So we spent the next 2 days watching the U.S.G.S. StreamFlow website, specifically the stream gauge at the Current River just outside of the state park. The rain caused the river to come up slowly over those 2 days but Thursday night/Friday morning it leveled off at 185cfs. That doesn't sound like much but on a river thats basically blown out at 225cfs, we were worried. Friday at work I spent most of the day watching the stream gauge to make sure it had leveled off and watching the weather forecast because another storm was supposed to move through saturday night/sunday morning in Missouri.

I left work and called Joey to see what he thought.After a little discussion and a phone call to the state park office at Montauk, we said screw it...we're going fishing! I packed all my gear up and set the GPS for the Tan Vat access on the Current River. I picked Joey up in Joplin and pointed the truck towards Springfield. After a quick stop at WalMart to get our trout stamps for the year along with a few odds and ends, we were back on the road and heading for the Current River! We arrived at Eagles Park campground a little after midnight, set up camp, and then crashed out so we could get an early start the next morning.

The next morning, I was awakened by the sound of 3 different turkeys chirpin' and gobblin' back and forth to each other. Can't beat having that as an alarm clock first thing in the morning, it was a good sign of things to come. We geared up and got the rods rigged up, then walked across the access road to the Tan Vat access point to take a look at the river. To our relief, the river looked really good. It was running a touch high, but had a good emerald color to it which meant we could fish heavier tippet and bigger flies like we'd hoped. We decided to hike upstream to just below the state park boundary and fish our way back downstream. If you've never fished this section of the Current River, you're really missing out. Lots of awesome water. Deep runs, swift riffles with nice seam lines, and lots of pocket water too. And trout everywhere!! We worked our way downstream picking up fish on a san juan worm with a caddis emerger dropper, with most of the fish coming on the emerger. Joey caught a very nice brown shortly after we started fishing, probably pushing 18", just a damn nice fish. The fish were all healthy and full of fight, especially in the swift current.





We made our way downriver into the section known as the "Rock Garden". This is an awesome section of the river, but it also gets a ton of fishing pressure too. The fishing can be great or it can be very tough. Today...it was tough. We didn't catch a single fish from this section, I didn't even get a single strike although I switched flies several times. We got to the tail-end of this section and noticed some caddis finally beginning to come off. The trout started to rise shortly afterwards but it was very sporadic as far as their feeding goes. I saw 2 fish rising in a seam behind a boulder so I switched to a #14 CDC Elk Hair Caddis which was the killer fly last year during this time. Several casts later I was rewarded with a vicious take and brought a chunky 15" rainbow to the net. Success!! There is just nothing like catching trout on dries....I'll take 10 fish on dries over 30 fish on a nymph rig anyday! I tried for the other fish but missed him which put the fish down so I moved downstream. Found another trout rising in front of a boulder and went to work on him. My heart stopped a few times on this fish as he rose and ate a natural right next to my offering. A few more casts and refusals later, I finally made a perfect drift and the fish ate! This fish was very acrobatic and made a few awesome jumps before coming to the net. Freaking sweet!

We continued working our way downstream, targeting every rising fish we seen and we were able to bring several to hand. The hatch slowly tapered off and I finally broke off my last CDC elk hair on a fish so we decided to head back to camp, get a fire started, and get some lunch before we headed downstream of Tan Vat. The morning bite had been good to us, so we had high hopes for the rest of the day...





After a healthy lunch of campfire grilled brats, summer sausage, cheese, and crackers...we were ready to hit the water again! We decided to hike downstream of the access and then fish our way back upstream. The afternoon turned more into a scouting trip for my Current River trip with some college buddies that is coming up in a few weeks. We would hike a little ways, stop to look at some water, and then keep hiking. Before we knew it, we came upon some people fishing and realized there was a parking lot just below them. We had hiked all the way down to the Baptist access point! I decided to fish below Baptist before we headed back upstream. There is some sweet water below Baptist and I don't think we even touched a fraction of it. Joey pulled a few nice rainbows out of some deep runs and I picked up a 'bow next to a log in some slower moving water beforew we decided to head back upstream. We didn't fish much on the hike back upstream except for the section just above baptist where I pulled out a decent rainbow next to a nice undercut bank and Joey missed a few fish. The clouds were starting to move in so we decided to cover some ground quickly just in case the weather was going south as it was forecasted to.



We did stop at a section of water next to a steep bluff that has a nice undercut rock bank along with a few nice boulders laid out in the stream. While fishing this stretch, the caddis started to come off again...except this time it was VERY heavy! Swarms of bugs were moving up river....but there wasn't but a few trout rising that we could see upstream or downstream. Joey plucked a nice brown from behind a laydown with an Elk Hair caddis but that was it. I didnt even get a look from any of the fish I presented my caddis to. It was weird to see the bugs coming off so heavily but very few fish were taking advantage of it.



The bugs were still coming off really heavy when it started to thunder off to the East so we decided to pack it in, head back to camp, and then drive up to the state park lodge to use their wi-fi to check the weather with my laptop. We hustled our way back to camp hoping and pray the weather wouldn't be too bad so we could stay and fish. Those hopes were dashed quickly as we were walking up to our website, the clash of lightning and thunder rumbled closer. We decided to just pack it in and head for Joeys house in Arkansas instead of trying to ride out the storm in our tents all night. Just as we were getting out of our waders, it began to rain. Shortly after that, it was just a circus act of stowing gear away in the truck, rolling up sleeping bags, and tearing down tents. I didn't even get my tent put back in its bag, instead I just rolled it all up and stashed it in my tool box in my truck. We jumped into the cab of the truck just as the light rain turned into a complete downpour!

Accepting defeat, we pointed the truck back east towards Joeys house in Springdale, Arkansas to ride out the storm. We took the scenic route you could say, stopping by Crane Creek to see if it would be possible to fish it the next morning. We pulled into the city park, ran over to the creek only to find it running high and looking like chocolate milk. The final nail in the coffin for our plans of fishing Sunday was seeing that lil' creek basically blown out.

It was a good day though, caught lots of fish on dries with most of them being browns. Thats one thing I love about the Current River below the state park, the ratio of browns to rainbows caught is usually like 2 to 1 whenever I have fished it. Its probably my favorite place to fish in Missouri with Crane Creek coming in just behind it. I can't wait to get back down there in a few weeks, hopefully the caddis will still be coming off and the trout will be a little more cooperative this time.

Introducing some newbs to the addiction!

Planned a day trip to the Lower Illinois this past Sunday with a couple of buddies, Donny and Chris. They are both new to the addiction and wanted to get some time on the water. The lower Illinois is USUALLY a pretty easy place to get into some fish so our confidence was high.

It was a normal morning of gathering gear and making coffee for me. Got everything loaded up, jumped in the truck, and set a course for the Tulsa Bass Pro Shops to pick up Donny and Chris. Got to love early mornings with good coffee and the anticipation of a day on the water!



Picked up Donny and Chris along with all their gear so we pointed the truck towards Gore, Oklahoma. Talks of fly selection, reading water, and worries of what Chris's home-made breakfast burritos could bring later in the day passed the hour drive and before we knew it, we were pulling up at the Watts parking lot to see that we were the 1st ones there. Everyone got geared up then I got Donny and Chris lined out with a setup to start the day off.

I wasn't sure on where to start the boys at on the river. It had fished differently than in the past when I was there a few weeks before but I went ahead and decided to head downstream so we could fish our way back up. We put in at the little run down below the parking lot, I picked up a couple rainbows really quick so things looked promising. Again though, like last time, it went dead after those first couple of fish. Donny and Chris didn't even get a strike the whole time so I was feeling a little pressure to get these guys on some fish.




I took the guys upstream to the hole where all the trout were stacked up last time feeding and there they were once again, eating bugs like crazy! I put the guys on hold while I tied on a softhackle and made a cast. A few quick strips and it was fish on!! I got the guys rigged up with soft hackles, gave them a crash course on how to fish them, and put them in a couple of prime spots with several fish feeding in front of them.



At this point in the day, at least for me, is when things really got stupid. I was missing fish left and right. When I actually would hook a fish, the knot would come undone or the tippet would break. Frustration had set in so I took a timeout from fishing and walked up to where Donald and Chris were fishing to help them out for a bit. After a few minutes of fine tuning their presentations, I decided to walk back down to my spot and see if I got the monkey off my back. I had no more than take a few steps and I tripped over a rock which caused me to lose my balance and take a swim in the river. Luckily, I had my wading jacket cinched down pretty tight around my waist and only a little water came in the back of my waders to where just my lower back and butt got wet. It still added to my frustrations for the day as I was wet and everything in my waist pack was soaked.

We were able to get into some fish before the sun came all the way out and the fish quit feeding. Donny caught his first rainbow and but it slipped from his hands before we could get a photo. This happened a few times so no photos for Donald of his first trout. Chris was having a pretty rough time with his casting and had missed a few fish but we still had most of the day left to fish. We packed up and headed upriver to fish by the dam.

We hiked up to the dam to fish the boulder area and a few other holes that normally hold lots of fish. Once again, the fish were not where they have been in the past. I think a lot of this can be attributed to the fact that the river was completely bottomed out. I hadn't ever seen it that low before after they had turned off the generators on the dam. The holes that normally held fish were barely ankle deep and the area next to the boulders was vacant of any fish. Come to find out the fish had moved out into the "pond" that forms next to the dam and were cruising around in little schools. I perched up on one of the boulders to watch the water for a little while and noticed lots of fish cruising around. The guys walked on up a little ways and began tossing the soft hackles again while I tied on a olive bugger.



We got into several fish quickly with Donny really putting it to them. I caught a few on buggers and a couple more on a olive sculpin...the fish were killing it by stripping it back to you at a fast pace. I still was having issues with knots coming undone and the tippet breaking on fish though, I almost threw my rod down at one point I was so pissed. I hadn't had a rough day like this in a long time, just couldn't figure out what the deal was. My tippet was new and my knots seemed to be cinching up just fine so I was clueless. I finally completely rebuilt my leader from the butt section to the tippet and called it good.






We hiked back downstream to fish the area around the island in front of the parking lot. I hadn't spent a lot of time in this area but was impressed by what I found as far as numbers of fish even with the super low water. Again, they were just cruising around the deeper water or around the laydowns looking for food. I hooked a few more and caught 1 more rainbow before the horn blew to notify everyone that they were about to start generating. I put Chris on a hole with a big laydown that had several fish holding around it but we couldn't get a solid hookup. The guy was trying his butt off but either flat out missed the strike or broke the fish off. The water started coming up shortly afterwards so we hauled butt over to the truck and drove down to the T&M gravel pit access.



We hiked downstream and found several fish in a pod actively feeding. I put Chris on these fish and tied him on a olive bugger to see if we could make something happen before we ran out of time. He got a little anxious on one of the 1st few casts and broke a fish off on the initial hookset. I gave him my rod and re-rigged his while he tried his luck again. We couldn't get another strike before the water started to come up so we called it a day.

We put in a solid 7 hours of fishing and had a pretty productive day. I think we could of caught more sheer numbers of fish if I wasn't in a slump and the guys had their technique down a little better but it was a good day though. Donny and Chris are now engulfed with the addiction of catching fish on the fly. They were already talking about their next time out and what other gear/flies they needed to buy on our way home.

All in all...not a bad day...

Springtime Stripers and Hybrids on the Spey!

Springtime is almost here! I can't wait to start chasing the stripers and hybrids on the Lower Illinois and Arkansas rivers. For now...I can only dream...







Oh springtime...it won't be long!

Finally!! Its time to fish again!

Its been a long winter to say the least. I spent most of it shooting ducks with my college buddies out in Western Oklahoma. Duck hunting is the only thing in the world that will keep me from a trout stream for an extended period of time. I love it almost as much as fishing...almost!! We had a very successful season though, lots of birds came south this year for us to shoot. I also introduced a friend of mine into duck hunting and it basically took over his life, completely ate up with it now. Here are a few pictures from this season...





It was a good year for waterfowl but season ended, it was time to put the shotgun away and dig out the fly rod. It had been a few months since I had fished and I was missing being out on the river. I've been fortunate enough to make 2 trips in the last month to chase trout. The 1st trip back to fish with the long rod was on the Lower Illinois and then just last weekend, I made an excursion east to fish for the wild McClouds on Crane Creek.

The weather finally cleared up enough that there was no generation on the Lower Illinois so I made a day trip over to Gore, Oklahoma several weeks ago. It was a cold and wet morning to be out. The wind was coming out of the north and sweeping right down the river...a touch on the miserable side but I didnt care, I was on the water! I pulled into the parking lot at the Watts area around 8 in the morning and geared up for a chilly morning. I walked downstream of the parking lot to the little chute below the tailout of the big hole in front of the parking lot. This is one of my favorite little holes...always has lots of fish. I started out fishing a pink san juan worm below an indicator and started making my way down the run. I picked up a few rainbows pretty quick and had a few LDRs...the morning was looking good and then the fish just shut off. The wind picked up and really started to blow. I called it quits and headed upstream to get some bloodflow going.

I walked up to the head of the run above the parking lot and started fishing my way back downstream. I tried several different flies that are usually deadly on the Lower Illinois but just had a couple of strikes. I was starting to scratch my head and get really frustrated when I noticed some fishing rising in a little back-eddy behind the a gravel bar at the tailout of the run. I hadn't actually ever seen trout eating bugs on the surface down there before, I walked over to the gravel bar and just watched the fish for a minute. Couldn't identify what bug they were eating but I tossed a few different dries with no luck, not even a half-hearted rise. I went back to the fly box once again and started pondering what to do. The light finally went off upstairs and I recalled a trip to Taney over the summer where the fish were doing the exact same thing but wouldnt eat a dry. The fish were midging but I slayed them on soft hackles.

I flipped open my front pack pocket and picked out a soft hackle. It was lights out for the next hour and a half. It was basically stupid fishing, completely stupid. I was getting a strike almost every case, didn't matter how you fished it. I could swing it or strip it back and the fish would just eat it up! I hooked the same fish 3 times before I finally got a solid hookset to actually land him. It was a ton of fun to say the least, a great way to get my fishing bearing back. The action finally stopped when the sun came out...it was literally like a light switch. I packed it up after that and headed home. It was a great morning...

A few weeks later, I loaded up and headed to Missouri to fish Crane Creek for some wild McClouds. I absolutely love this little creek...its such an awesome place to fish. I met Joey at the city park with plans to walk downstream to the dairy farm and then fish our way back upstream. We peaked into the creek at the city park right in front of where we parked and was astonished to see 3 trout all over 16" with one of them being 18" easily. We made a few casts to them but they spooked immediately and ran for the big overhanging bluff. Sooo...downstream we went!

This section of Crane has some really good looking water. It has lots of deep holes...really deep holes especially for such a small creek. We scouted out several holes that had some nice fish and made our way downstream. We were nearing the conservation area boundary and our worst nightmare became a reality...we stumbled upon another fisherman who had just started fishing his way upstream. It was a big let down. After some idle chit-chat with the guy, we walked on downstream to the boundary. We were able to put a little distance and un-touched water between us so we started fishing.

I picked up a few little McClouds in a small hole behind a log jam with a red tungsten san juan worm. As we were passing over the log jam, we peaked through the log jam and was astonished to see LOTS of trout stacked up under the log jam. Big trout too! There was a few fish in the 20" range along with lots of fish in the 12" to 15" range...it was sickening but also good to see that there is a healthy population of nice fish in this creek. I can only imagine what you would find if you were able to throw on the scuba gear and look under all the log jams along this creek. I bet there are some real toads in this creek that nobody has probably ever seen.



We continued our trek upstream, catching a few fish here and there. Joey spotted a nice McCloud tucked up underneath a rootball and bombed his egg pattern above it to get a drift in. The fish inhaled the egg and the fight was on! The fish ran straight at Joey and ducked into a rootball just below him. After a few minutes of trying to knock the fish out with his net, it finally came out and was netted. It was an awesome fish...solid 18" with tons of color. He always catches the big fish...

We kept fishing our way upstream and we finally got into the water that the guy had already fished. It was dead the rest of the way up the creek till we got to the city park. We switched flies, change depth, added more weight...and couldn't buy a strike. You definitely can't fish behind someone in this little creek. It sucked...and we saw several BIG fish too but they were all lockjawed or spooked.

We got back to the city park and made a few casts to the fish we'd seen earlier. We were a little more stealthy this time and got down on our hands and knees for the approach. I bombed a cast up over the biggest fish and got a perfect drift down to him. He sipped the bug up and I set the hook...only to have my tippet break where my weight was pinched on. Big let down to end a sub-par day on Crane...but it still was a lot of fun fishing this little creek.

I'm glad to be back out on the water. Its going to be a great year for fishing if we don't get flooded out with all this rainfall we're supposed to get this spring. I'm looking forward to chasing stripers with the new spey rod, catching smallmouth in Arkansas, chasing carp in western Oklahoma, and, of course, catching trout all summer long!!

So much fishing to do....so little time!!