I wasn't looking for a new addiction...honestly. Between my latest craze for smallmouth bass the last few seasons, adding a new tool to my arsenal and taking up Spey fishing this Spring and then planning my first Steelhead trip for later this Fall, my fishing plate is pretty much heaped full. The last thing my schedule needed was another potential quarry to peak my interest and pencil their name in on what few remaining days were left of the Summer. What can I say, I'm a real pushover when it comes to just about any piscatorial pursuit. With that in mind it was a no-brainer when I got the call from a buddy last week asking if I wanted to go chase some river run stripers in a local body of water.
I hopped in the truck Saturday morning before the sun made an appearance and headed South for a few hours to my eventual destination. Some plans at home meant my partner couldn't show up until later that afternoon but I decided to show up early and scout the area a little bit seeing as it was my first time fishing this particular body of water. Boatless until he arrived, I decided to break out the switch rod and hike in below the tailrace of the river we would be floating to see if I couldn't get a head start on the fish catching activities.
Luckily the hike was short and the water cool, with the temperature pushing 104 degrees that first afternoon the weather was more conducive to sitting waist deep in the water and drinking beer than it was to fishing. I gave it my best shot anyway and swung flies through the swift tailrace for an hour or so until I got the call saying he was pulling into town. We met at a local greasy spoon and went inside to soak up some of the AC and grab an early dinner before we hit the water for the afternoon. A couple of double cheeseburgers and cold drinks later we were heading out to drop the boat in and get the party started.
I've caught my share of lake bound stripers before but never done anything like chucking big streamers from a drifting boat for them. To say I was excited to get up on the casting deck with a rod in my hands would be an understatement, I love streamer fishing and this was streamer fishing on steroids! We got in about five hours of solid fishing that evening and ended up with a couple of small fish to show for it.
Granted, these fish may have been 3-5 pound schoolies but they fought with enough attitude to make me realize that a much bigger fish would likely hand me my ass before I could ever bring him boatside. The fact that we only caught two fish was a little disheartening as we were both expecting a little more action, then again if a couple of fish that bend an 8 weight from cork to tip and do their best to show you your backing doesn't make your hands shaky and your knees weak you should probably take up golf. We got back to the ramp that night just as the last of the suns orange hue dropped below the Western skyline.
Back at the "sleazy 8" in town we killed the remainder of the night sitting in lawn chairs in the parking lot with a cooler of beer and a couple of cigars discussing tomorrows plan. While the fish might have won the first round, we were deadest on making sure it didn't happen two days in a row.
Sunday we got to the ramp before 6:00 and found ourselves waiting in a line with a half dozen or more other trucks and trailers with the same idea as we had. There were a couple of boats with other fly fishermen but the rest of the armada consisted of mostly center consoles with 75 gallon shad tanks mounted on the deck. It looked like the word was definitely out.
We made our way slowly upstream in the early dawn hours, trying to keep from running aground on any shallow shoals or rootwads that weren't apparent in the fast moving off colored water.
We made it a couple of miles from the ramp when we found a bank that had our name written all over it. Good current, lots of structure right on the bank and on the East side of the river so we'd have some shade for a good part of the morning. It didn't take any longer than the first drift down to know that the fishing was going to be a little better today as we each landed our first fish of the day.
The rest of the morning was pretty much non-stop action like I havn't experienced in quite some time. The section we were fishing gave up the goods drift after drift, not lots of fish but more than enough to keep your hands slightly shaky in between hookups.
While I've always considered stripers/white bass/hybrids to be one of the best fighting fish pound for pound, these fish that spend their entire life fighting river currents were just solid muscle. With every battle it seemed you had to grab the rod with both hands and hold on for dear life as these fish had some serious attitude.
Before the morning was over I was telling myself that an 8 weight wasn't enough rod for these fish...and we didn't even catch any big ones. As much as I'd have loved to connected with one of the 30 pounders that are definitely swimming in these waters, I'm almost as sure that my tackle would have been sorely undersized for that kind of battle.
By around 2:00 the temperature was back up to triple digits and the fishing was slowing down from the mornings fast and furious action so we decided to call it a day...one hell of a good day at that.
We ended up with 14 or 15 fish between the two of us, ranging from 5-15 pounds. I don't know about you, but if I can get numbers like that in little more than a half days fishing I'm pretty much ecstatic.
Needless to say the majority of the 5 hour drive home was spent manipulating schedules and priorities in my head to get the next trip back down penciled in on my calendar. I sure hope the fish are still biting by then....