North Fork Deluge

I won't get back on a river 'til August 5th so I jumped at Paul's invitation to hit the river Saturday. I wanted to get home to see my Jenny so we only spent 6 on the water and we had a great time.   We slid in at the low water bridge off Rt 609 and tubed and yak'd through the first two hundred yards where before we wet a line and immediately began to pick up feisty smallies.   As compared with the South Fork we decided on 'more intimate' as the best way to describe the North Fork.  This 2.5 mile horseshoe is loaded and provides some all kinds of opportunities.  I love swinging streamers through the riffles and caught more than my share, but the deeper, cooler pools were stacked with swarms of smallies and it was hard to leave them.

As my 4 hr time limit came and went I started pushing toward the takeout and we got a taste of what Noah must have known ... driving, heavy rain the kind you just laugh at and enjoy, what else is there to do?  We packed up in the driving rain, the jeep did not care and I headed home.   Paul on the other hand had the whole day so waked back up the river and caught another bushel or two for another 6 hours!  He caught two 12-inchers and hooked into a 18/19" only to have it break his line....what a great place. 

It's less about catching numbers of fish 

and more about journeying to the point 

where you get the strike.

New Hampshire Summer Slam - Brookies, Browns, Bows and Salmon

     When the number of moose per square mile outnumber the people per square mile, you know there must be terrific fishing nearby.  Such was the case in early July when after holding a memorial for our dad on Duncan Lake, my brother Marc and I headed north to Coos County for what is fast becoming our annual pilgrimage to New Hampshire's northern wilderness.  The drive up through North Conway, Berlin, Errol and Colebrook was met with unrelenting, driving rain and we figured the rivers would be running fast and high early on (they were).  But hey -- we're here, let's go fishing!

We fished the trophy section of the Connecticut and reports were that the water had been pounded like those sides of beef in the freezer from the original Rocky movie.  Eight cars up by the dam, a few along the road -- I'm guessing those fish have been seeing flies thrown their way all day, every day during the week surrounding the 4th. Low and behold, Marc had fish on first cast!  The hot start didn't last as the fish were few and far between.  Nevertheless, it felt awesome to be back in the cold, clear, moving water of the Connecticut.

Here's some video from the Connecticut.

With several other options besides the Connecticut to fish, we struck out for the Mohawk River, which runs from the Balsams to Colebrook along Route 26.  A couple of years ago, we dropped in that river to check it out and found a brook trout dry fly bonanza.  But as we hit the river this day, it was kicking high and hard - a far cry from two years ago.  We tried dries and droppers, and Marc picked one up but that was it.  After working upstream we debated packing out and trying somewhere else as it just didn't seem fishable (in fact the previous day's rains caused tremendous flooding on the Pemi by Plymouth State).  I told Marc let me changeout and try a streamer for a few casts.  Golden Retriever plus two split shot -- down and across cast -- boom!  Fish on.  A gorgeous 7 inch wild brookie brought to hand.  Another cast -- another fish, and another, and another.  We cracked the code on the Mohawk.  Casting 6-foot, 2-wt fly rods made for some incredible action as Marc and I took turns working runs downstream,

Fish on.

The last time we fished this river the water was shin deep with a gentle flow.  Not today. 

Here's some video from the Mohawk.

Having found success on the Mohawk, we packed up and headed out to find some more trout waters. We headed for another stream that had proven successful in past year -- sorry, but can't name this guy.  With only 24 hours since the heavy rains, the stream was swollen and running much higher and faster than before.  We again tried dry / dropper combinations, and though Marc caught a couple, I wasted no time in switching to streamers.

I'm not sure what it is about Golden Retrievers, but it's a proven fly for trout in the Northeast, Mid-Atlantic, Midwest, and I suppose I'll try it next time I head out West. Fishing 2-weight rods again made for entertaining hookups with wild brook trout providing non-stop action.

Though none of the trout were measured in pounds, it's awfully tough to beat fishing remote streams for wild brookies in absolutely gorgeous country. 

For a small stream we found some deep holes.

Below is a video of the day's action.

Part of the experience in fly fishing trips to northern New Hampshire is the charm of the small towns.  Due to my delay in booking lodging, Pittsburg had no vacancies so we ended up staying in Canaan, Vermont -- just across the state line from Stewartstown at the Maurice Motel... a throwback motel akin to the days when our family used to drive to Florida for vacation in the 60s  The Buckrub Pub remains a favorite for a good meal and a Buckrub Brown Ale.  The Wilderness Restaurant in Colebrook proved a good stop for both breakfast and dinner, and the Colebrook House of Pizza was a good choice for late night pizza.  Across the street from the motel was the Timeout Tavern where we had the good fortune to sync our visit with a Saturday night live performance from the band Rock On.  Entertaining in all aspects -- the band must be a well known attraction in the north country as the place was jammed with folks from their 20s to 70s all cutting up on the dance floor. 

We lugged a canoe up on this trip in hopes of timing our trip with the famous, but short-lived "Hex hatch" on some of the ponds in Coos County.  We fished it 3 nights and about all I can say is "friggin' unbelievable!"  Picture a glassy trout pond just before sunset.  A few flies begin popping off the surface, then a few more, then a few more, and then brook trout begin busting the surface in all directions.  Some gracefully slurp in the flies while others mimic Great White Sharks launching for seals.  Rigged with Size 4 dry flies -- these mayflies are huge and resemble mini-sailboats when sitting on the water -- we anchored and cast to the rises for the 30-40 minutes before total darkness took over.  But during that window -- wow.  Violent takes, rod-bending runs and head shakes was the norm.  Drying the fly in between fish proved the most challenging obstacle to hooking more fish, but each night we elevated our game slightly and more fish were brought to hand -- 10 the last night.  Darkness prevented more pics and videos but we each landed several in the 14-16 inch range.

Here was one.  I'll need to figure how to photo and video document this event better in the future. But if you have not fished a Hex hatch -- you definitely need to add it to your bucket list.

After a couple of days we ventured back to our nameless stream to fish a different section.  Upon arrival, the water had receded tremendously and the high, fast water was but a distant memory.  Instead, a more gentle lower, slower flow greeted us and we straightaway loaded up a dry / dropper rig for our trek upstream.  We found multiple sets of moose, bear and deer tracks along the stream the further upstream we ventured.  As for the fishing -- it was one of those lights out days.  Brookies rose consistently to our offerings of Elk Hair Caddis or Parachute Adams dries.  We eventually removed the droppers and fished dries exclusively upstream.

Classic freestone water.

Where you thought there should be a trout... there was one (or two, or sometimes three or four).

Each bend in the river revealed more gorgeous water.

When we fished as far as were going upstream, we changed our approach for the downstream trip switching to streamers.  Of course the Golden Retriever proved deadly, but solid hookups came from Mickey Fin (our dad's favorite fly) and Royal Coachmens. 

Note the water difference 48 hours after the heavy rains  A totally different stream.

Here's some video of the day.

Our last day of fishing was a guided drift boat trip on the Connecticut -- something we've both always wanted to dry.  Our guide, Ken from Osprey Fly Fishing Outfitters proved an awesome choice as he was knowledgeable, friendly, patient, his boat was comfortable and his wife made great lunches.  We drifted from just north of Colebrook about 12 miles downstream to our put out.   The first takeaway from drift boat fishing is the guy in the front has a huge advantage.  I started in the front, and proceeded to catch several browns and brookies early on.  We fished size 16-18 emergers.  I expected us to be swinging streamers to the banks all day, but that was never the case.  We fished seams and runs throughout the day until... hatches started and trout began busting the surface.  March was in the front when the late afternoon / early evening hatch kicked into high gear and he surgically began picking off individual rising trout with perfect drifts right in the feeding lanes.  This was really amazing.  Over the last few hours the bite turned on and we had a blact catching trout on dries.  Though no tape busters were brought in, solid and fat 11-12 inchers were taken with regularity.  Marc caught upwards of 30 and I probably had half that over the course of the day.  I'm glad we did it, and I would recommend Ken to anyone considering a similar experience.

Local knowledge of the river was a must... and Ken had it.

Here's some video of the day.

Northern New Hampshire once again did not disappoint as another memorable fishing adventure was embraced once again.  Dad, this trip is dedicated you for giving your two sons the same passion you had for chasing trout across the Granite State.

Until next time, tight lines.  

Forest Bathing

Matt, Jeff, Paul and Frank

Paul’s brother Frank was visiting from the Rockies and life-long friend Jeff was joining them for a fishing adventure and I was lucky to be invited. We met at the familiar Newport boat launch on a dazzling-perfect Shenandoah Valley summer day.   

Frank w 1st Smallie (no comments ...they get bigger)

 In contrast to our last visit the river was running optimally low at 2.14 on the Luray gauge as we slid into its warm flow.   Paul outfitted Frank and Jeff w float tubes and flippers. I had my kayak and took my Patagonia Sling Pack (thx Ritchies) for a shakedown cruise (loved it).

Bernett family reunion in the best of places

Typical small smallie

The strikes were oddly slow for such a seemingly perfect day and we really had to work for our hookups (although leaving your rod over the side and ignoring it seemed to work as well ☺.  It was a nice crew, Jeff, an avid biker, quickly fell in tune with the rhythm of the river and looking upstream it was hard for me to tell Paul and Frank apart in their tubes as their graying stubble looks about the same.   

Looking back up-stream Jeff, Frank and Paul fish the disaggregated water under the cliff

By lunch I was convinced that I’d have to enjoy the scenery and be disappointed by the catch-rate, but as often happens the bite began to pick up lifting our spirits.  I enjoyed looking back over my shoulder, hearing the banter of friends enjoying time on the river.   I’d recently listened to a radio essay about forest bathing and being on this river, in this paradise, reinforced to me the powers of this ‘forest’, a place and chance to wash.   As I was flush with 6-9” smallies Jeff hooked a 14 incher and Frank, not to be outdone, tamed a water walking 17.5 incher, she wasn’t girthy, but the length filled the scale on Frank’s tube.

Paul smiled at their success and kept us apprised of his hits and misses ☺ with his hearty exclamations.

Rod holder points to the deep(er) seam in last rapid

The last rapid was fantastic; I arrived ahead of our team and brought 10 bass to hand in about 15 casts.   Fighting these water walkers up current, rods bent over tips pointing toward the catch is about as good as it gets.   Darn they are ferocious fighters.  Jeff and I wrangled the left third of the rapid, Frank took the middle with Paul on the far right, where the flow was greater than 12” deep there were aggressive bass.  

Jeff stands...fish on in the fast water of the last rapid

At 1840 we’d had enough and were eager to put a win in the books before the fast river claimed one of us (ok me) so we floated passed the site of my Canoe wipe-out last week with Hen and made it safely the takeout winding up another great day on this fantastic stretch.    Thanks for inviting me along!  

Fishing 4 abreast at the top of the last rapid

This trip was the last stand for these worthy hooves

Catch you on the River

2017 Smallmouth Rodeo

Overnight fishing trips for me began more than a decade ago with a fall trip to the Salmon River with the Pfeiffers.  Spaced throughout the year I greatly look forward to these trips and savor their memories.  I didn’t get to the Upper Connecticut River in June so I was very anxious to hit the South Fork of the Shenandoah July 7th and 8th.

 I cast the net to the usual suspects Henry and Paul were eager and able to join with James, Fritz and Jacob planning to join day 2.  Anticipation for the trip made good York vacation conversation and between frozen-numb swims Henry researched and ordered a sweet new fishing kayak, to our chagrin it didn’t arrive in time so we loaded my trusty canoe and headed towards the Virginia Mtns early Friday morning. As Sunfowers are more beautiful than words to describe them… so’s this section of the South Fork even though it was running high at 2.83 on the Luray gauge (below 2.3 is optimal).  

 We had Christmas-morning smiles as we met Paul and geared-up.  A mixed array of long rods hit the water.  Of note, Paul has been experimenting with rod making. I’m not talking about buying a kit…Paul harvested and dried bamboo and built specialty lathe and planning tools to build rods …  miniscule tapers ….incredible. I brought a bruiser 6wt for casting heavy-weight offerings and Henry brought me, straight from a UK buy, an Orvis 9’3” 5wt ‘Spring Creek’ 5wt from the original graphite series.    It’s lovely, long and casts like a dream, if it were in a magazine it’d be in the middle. Shout-out to Lucy Ritchie my UK eBay agent! 

As always happens we spent too long in the upper lake section and Henry killed them in this section putting 20+ fish on us (we’d never catch up).   The height of the river wasn’t a problem in the lake section but when the river narrowed in the first rapid we felt its channeled power. Even tethered to the canoe, I can usually traverse the rapid and fish where I choose – no chance today.   

Encouraged (swept along) by the strong current Paul and I worked quickly down the left hand side of the channel. Henry, one of Neptune’s Creatures, moved into the side channels where he found fish and slower water but cloudy water hid rocks which found his knees and thighs opening up some colorful flesh, good news … no sharks in this water.  

 At some point below the first rapid, we hit our stride and began to pile up smallies.    Paul had quickly sync’d with the slow, but true action of his bamboo stick, he’d used an Orvis 7’9” bamboo taper (not sure if it was the F&Fine) and could cast our heavier offerings up to about 30 feet.    I really enjoyed the length and play of the Spring Creek.  These early Orvis Graphite rods have a narrow almost elegant grip and this one’s length really transmitted the fight, but still reserved plenty of backbone in the last third provided one has the patience to let it load deeply. 

The smallies weren’t large, mostly 7-9 inches, but just after lunch I landed a 12” which would prove the largest of the day.    He was no monster nut he was lovely and like all was released back into his haunts.  Henry actually caught the largest fish of the day, a small channel cat which Paul helped him release so he wouldn’t get barbed. 

In the middle section, around the high cliff on the left, Paul and I switched rods and I pulled in 3-4 with Paul’s bamboo and he brought in nearly a dozen with my Spring Creek!   As late afternoon closed in we urged Henry forward and found pushed to the upper section of the last rapid at 1830.  We’d been on the water for 9.5 hours at this point, were exhausted, and the excitement was just about to begin.   

Paul and Henry had both already passed the century mark so Henry took the canoe from me so I could see if I could join them.    Henry Rigged up his Epic (straight from NZ) 6wt and I brought out my 6wt to deal with the heavy fast water.  We found a familiar (deeper) channel amid the 150m wide rapid and began hooking up in the swollen-wild water.   Along with the comraderie this was one of the reasons we’d come.   Fighting these ferocious fighters upstream in current adds 6 inches of ‘feel’ to the fight and these fish did not disappoint. 

 Paul joined us straight away and as I was exhausting in a catch I saw a canoe waving a paddle at us from a couple hundred yards upstream. I thought I lost and they’d found a loose paddle and were hailing us, but after a few seconds realized that I recognized the profiles and that Fritz and Jacob had joined us early.   As it turns out they were not able to join us Sunday so had decided to join Saturday afternoon, but Fritz’ trusty Ranger had taken ill (cracked radiator) and they got a late start to join us.    

They were questioning whether we’d still be on the river, but Jacob quickly noted that Henry was fishing and that it’s near impossible to get him off the river before sundown so they came and we were elated they did.     

My favorite time on the river was fishing 5-wide, Paul tucked into the deep, rocky seems to my far left, Hen just to my left fishing the seam in front of us,  Jacob on my right fishing the another run w/in the river  and Fritz on the far right quickly hauling in fish after fish.   What a treat, what a river, room to fish 5-wide and each enjoy each other’s catches.  The hatch we were waiting on never materialized but as the sun lowered dark clouds and lighting obscured the mountain downstream heading towards quickly.  Thankfully the lightning passed just before the wind hit and heavy drops in a cloud of white engulfed us.   We were already drenched and the fish were biting, so with little choice in the matter we fished right through the squall wiping rain from our eyes pulling in fish after fish.   I went over the century mark during the storm, my fishing fever subsided, the squall passed revealing a near full moon rising over our right shoulder.

Why didn’t we fish day two?   That’s a story for another day.

“I do not envy the man who eats better meat than I do, nor him that is richer, or wears better clothes than I do; I envy nobody but him, and only him, that catches more fish than I do.”

Isaak Walton, from The Complete Angler