I spent an Awesome Friday and Saturday with The Family and Conor in NYC and scooted out this morning for a quick 3 hours on the Shenandoah just West of Ashby's Gap. James was looking to try out his newly won Orvis CFO reel so the morning was set for a quick adventure. The water was at its normal summer/low pool and warm. My plan was to swing streamers down the main channel as I made my way downstream along the west bank toward the island then through the deep seams on the western/left channel, then come back around the island, fish the shaded far bank, then make long casts, drifts and strips heading back to the bridge and the car. Besides the snake (see pic below) that gave me the creeps, the plan worked out perfectly and I brought 8 smallies to hand in this short but beautiful trip. I hope that you get out on river and enjoy these pictures.
The quality of the picture exposes an untrimmed knot! Bronzebacks love the minnow simulating golden retriever
James caught in the sun taken from the top of the island-channel
Lochness Monster? Nope just a big snake!
Fish-on -- I used an old pflueger 1495 Medallist from my grandfather for this trip
I caught 4 today on a barrel-head Kreelex pattern
James "fish-on" at the bottom of the island where the two flows join again
This nice smallie caught in a deep run on one of Harry Murray's recommended (heavy) crayfish patterns
The greens of the grasses and tree frame James on the far side of the island headed back toward bridge
"Fish come and go, but it is the memory of afternoons on the stream that endure."
- E. Donnall Thomas
Fritz on my favorite Bend of the North Fork
5 Days before Fritz and I hit the North Fork of the Shenandoah Woodstock, VA was underwater as tributaries of the North Fork took over the town.
We had hoped that the river had recovered fully, it had lowered to fishable levels but the but the smallies were more reserved than my last few trips here and I'd say that the catch rate was in the neighborhood of 50% of the last trip.
Fortunately however the catching was only a part of the enjoyment. The river was beautiful, Fritz and I enjoyed catching up, and we worked for the majority of the fish we caught.
We intended to go slow and deep with weighted flies for bigger fish but the river simply wasn't settled out and the bronzebacks were widely distributed throughout the water not holding particularly to classic holding water.
After sporadic success with most streamers we found (once again) that the fly of the day was the golden retriever fished in tandem. I believe the first retriever stimulates excited frenzy and the smallies then smack the dropper fly in their fury.
Most of the 100-odd smallies we caught were also, interestingly caught on upstream strips as opposed to the drift or sweep. Fritz and I could see bronzebacks checking out the flies on cross-stream strips, drifts and sweeps but they really hit very seldom with those patterns.
Fish on on an upstream strip along the bank
Its hard to find a fish that's a better fighter than a bronzeback
Get out on the river with a friend -- its hard to find a prettier place
When you have only one day to spend for some hard core fly fishing in New Hampshire, there's nowhere I'd rather be than wading the rough & tumble Connecticut River winding through the very northern most woods of the state by the Canadian border near the town of Pittsburg. So on my last day of my all-too-short summer vacation, my brother Marc & I loaded the truck and pointed it north through some of the Granite State's iconic towns North Conway, Gorham, Berlin, Errol and Colebrook. With a light morning rain and air temps in the mid-50s, we pressed onward and by the time we hit the water it was 10 degrees warmer and the rain was gone.
We rigged our rods with split shot, strike indicators and tiny nymphs -- size 16 or 18 Copper Johns, Princes or Pheasant Tails. The water flowed fast below the First Connecticut Lake dam, wading was challenging to say the least as we carefully selected where to cross, what pools and runs were reachable, etc... this was wild trout water fishing at its pinnacle. Not too many rivers offer the opportunity for a grand slam of coldwater fishes -- rainbows, brookies, browns and landlocked salmon, but the Connecticut is one of those rare gems.
This was Marc and my 3rd year in a row up to Pittsburg, and in addition to spotting our fair share of moose in the woods and drinking the locals favorite Buckrub Brown Ale, we've improved our knowledge and understanding of the river -- and with that comes greater success. This trip proved both exhilarating and frustrating as we caught more and bigger trout and salmon than ever before, yet we lost more bigger trout and salmon than in previous trips. The Connecticut is a beast of a river.
The video is a compilation of the day's highlights.
I knew the day could prove something special when I landed a salmon, rainbow and brookie on my 2nd, 4th and 7th casts. I like to start fishing by heading up as close to the dam as possible... it's fast, slick, mildly dangerous, but those riffles and runs have some solid trout and salmon holding on the edges and seams.
I'm talking three different fish species in the same hole -- how awesome is that for fly fishing.
This was only the first hole.
Fish on.... now the hard part begins
After picking up several salmon and trout in the headwaters, we hit the trail and bushwhacked our way through the woods downstream to some waters we had never tried before. I've never fished in Canada and the deep woods of the north, but this was as close to heaven with the inspiring splendor of the wild river teaming with aggressive, hard-fighting trout and salmon, unspoiled woods with sloping ravines funneling the water, and no one around except your brother, some moose and bear in the brush.
Check out some more pics below...
Grand Slam complete -- rainbow, brookie, salmon and a brownie
What a river -- March has fish on!
This brookie fell for a #18 Copper John. It took several minutes to work him to a slower pool where I could finally get a net on him.
I can't wait to go after him again next year.
This brookie came to hand.
As did this nice salmon.
However the biggest fish of the day, and Marc would attest it was even bigger than his brookie, was the landlocked salmon I battled, and ultimately lost in the center of the river. It's worth a quick story. I was fishing some fast, deep water about 50 yards upstream of Marc when a huge salmon took my fly. It quickly skyrocketed out of the water, reminiscent of that scene in the movie Hunt for Red October where that sub did an emergency surface and blasted into the air. The salmon was a monster and quite possibly my biggest fish ever -- pushing 5-6 pounds. I yelled above the roar of the river for Marc to come lend a hand. He positioned himself downstream of me and thus began the game of trying to steer and lead the fish to my brother. As we had lost several nice fish during the day by being too aggressive, patience and teamwork seemed to be the best bet for success... and it almost was... As the fish was being led within inches of Marc and his awaiting net, the salmon must have seen my brother or the net and again blasted out of the water striking Marc square in the chest, then free & clear back into the rushing river. It was an amazing battle right to the end.
Exhilarating - oh yeah. Frustrating -- well you can't win them all. We wrapped up the day with some good laughs, tired legs and about 25 fish brought to hand and another 7-8 (mostly big ones) caught but not landed. An awesome day concluded with a couple of cold brews at the Buckrub Pizza Pub. Till next year.
Summer's are too short, especially when you're a high school JROTC instructor/teacher on a 12-month contract with plans to do more and see more people than can possibly be squeezed into a 2500 mile road trip two-week vacation. But that doesn't stop me from trying. As I'm writing this, I'm doing so from a hospital bed at St. Vincent's Hospital in Jacksonville, Florida recovering from total knee replacement surgery.
Native NH Brookie
So I had 5 short days in the Granite State and those days would be filled with a golf outing with 3 high school buddies at Portsmouth Country Club, a family reunion at my brother's Maine camp, a day hiking with my bride on the Kancamagus Highway in the White Mountains (one fish / one cast ... see pic), a day driving up to the NH-Canadian border with my brother Marc for remote wilderness fly fishing on the Connecticut River in Pittsburg (covered in next post), and one day fishing with my son Eric at Archer's Pond in Ossipee. I am thrilled my son enjoys fishing. So when he came up to New England, we planned a day of bass fishing since that's the species he's been targeting the past year or two in Texas. We decided to have a spin fishing versus fly fishing competition, and I humbly report he outfished me in both numbers and quantity.
We used my dad's old 11-ft aluminum boat... the same one he used to troll for those big lakers on nearby Dan Hole Pond. It's been patched about a dozen times, but it's lightweight and stable - ideal for paddling around a 10 acre backwoods pond. We fished around the shoreline, honing in on submerged structure and there was a lot of downed timber. Eric caught a few really nice largemouth using a small lure that resembled a crawfish and had terrific action through the water.
We missed a couple of really big ones that got tangled in submerged logs as the water clarity allowed for front row viewing. But god things come to those who wait... and are persistent and when Eric hooked into another big one, I paddled out to deep water as soon as he hooked up. His biggest fish ever.
All in all we had a terrific time. He's now off to school at Texas Tech this fall. I know he'll find a few bass ponds in the area. I'm thankful there's another fisherman in the LaRochelle family.
James in full smile captured in black & white moves on the North Fork o the Shenandoah -- Easter Fly-Fishing Magazine worthy photo?
Abby and James gear up below the low water bridge put in off 609
We headed for the river Sunday morning with great anticipation. I had fished the Shenandoah on Saturday and Fritz had fished in Toms Brook on Saturday reporting that the river was lousy with bronzebacks. James' daughter Abby joined us, their outings together, and an Orvis 101 class led by Mark and Duber set her up for smallie success.
James mends a drift into a seam with his new 5wt
I promised Abby 20 fish as we T-swizzled our way south on 81. The air was warm and heavy as we unloaded at the low-water bridge off 609 in Woodstock. Shafts of sun occasionally speared through the marine layer increasing the heat, but the day would remain partly cloudy...perfect for fishing. The water was fishably high and stained, rising and becoming increasingly brown throughout the day as the river drained the rain-soaked valley.
On river instruction at its best
Abby and James began in their canoe and after a short casting refresher we moved down to the first dead-fall on the left for Abby to catch her first fish. The (small) smallies didn't disappoint and a feisty bronzeback soon bent Abby's 5wt putting a smile our faces. A golden retriever was my guide-fly for Abby and and the smaller bronzebacks couldn't resist the standard version tied on a size 10 2x hook. Thanks Mossy Creek and Scott for showing my how to tie this pattern. I used a barrel-headed, heavier version tied on a size 6 2x hook with 10 wraps of .2 lead to ply deeper water but the current and an infestation smallies caused me to rarely get it down deep enough to pester larger fish.
After we sorted out our fishing rhythm it worked best for James to canoe and for me to wade with Abby tethered in the canoe in front of me casting to either side. This allowed some spacing and for Abby to flip back and forth between an ultra-light spinning rod I'd brought with a 32-oz white beetle-spin and the 5 wt we'd rigged for her.
Working three in a line we moved downstream chatting, reading water, working on casting technique and being rewarded by smallies who struck on most well presented casts. We made a game out of having to touch the bass (brought to hand) to count it as caught and all of our catch mounted quickly.
Abby became a skilled fish de-hoooker
We sandwiched on the table rock on the right 1/2 way down the first straight away and the first time I checked my watch it was already 14:21! We'd been fishing for more than 5 hours before I even bothered to check it. We'd fished about 50% of the float and we decided to fish for a few more minutes as we had alot of river before us before the takeout.
I had told Abby and James that my goal was to catch 100 smallies on this trip and I approached, but didn't meet that lofty goal. Another 90 minutes and I might have made it. Abby ended the day with a fish on her last cast and 23 brought to hand. James caught his share, but his reward was a great time with Abby. The fish were almost exclusively small today but many small with a new anger is many times better than only a few larger ones. I think that we might have made another convert.
With his new 5wt James caught many a bass
The caption might read, "Abby consoles her dad after the big one got away," but she's really just reaching for some melon!
Abby with long rod -- "fish-on"
Proud angler
James, a pro, works a down river seam
My arsenal for the day
Sentinel tree guards the horseshoe
Our team moves through the horseshoe bend in line
I'm actually "fish-on" as I hit a deep spot and scramble for a foot hold
