The trip started on a big river. Temperatures slightly below freezing. 2 full days of being skunked as I watched fish after giant fish being pulled in beside me. Fishing a super fast, deep drift on the fly is challenging, to say the least. This river is known as one of the hardest to fish on the fly. 1 or 2 lake trout in a day is considered success. It just moves too fast & you have to get very deep. 10' off the bank might be 90' deep in places. The bulk of the fish were being taken on real brown trout eggs, followed by egg flies fished from a spinning rod with up to an ounce of lead. They were holding about 10' from the bank, 15' deep on a ledge that then dropped off to unknown depths.The fish I saw caught on the fly were by anglers using what amounts to a bobber & an egg fly, dead drifted. One of many valuable lessons this trip taught me is that the drift is king. If you can drift your presentation in the natural seam that bait and other food items are drifting in, you'll get the take. This was very apparent as I beat the water to a froth on day 1, which came to a close after 32 hours with no sleep & no fish for me. Day 2 would bring another partner, who would accompany me on the skunk train as the big river just did not want to cooperate. You have to put your time in, learn the drifts & learn the skills necessary to hook & land fish there consistently. This was evident by my friend's continued success with the egg beater. On a day where I hooked nothing, he had 11 fish hooked, none of which he landed, save for one hefty brown trout. There were numerous occasions where I would see someone hook up, only to sigh as the absolute giant char peeled out hundreds of yards of line, until it finally became apparent it was time to break them off. No stopping those fish.
She's a beautiful river.
The path to the first destination was a treacherous one. Dead Man's Corner, as it's affectionately termed, leaves no doubt as to where it got it's name. A piece of slate the size of a compact car sits slanted, the only way around a bend, where if you lose your footing, it's a slide into a turquoise abyss. Easy to make a wrong move @ 5 am in complete darkness as you ease your way around the 60 degree slope into the raging current.
For hours and hours I watched giant lakers chase emerald shiners & alewives to the surface, smashing them & causing a huge commotion, no more than 15' from me. I drifted egg flies & baitfish patterns all to no avail.
The big girl did ultimately produce though.
Dinner was good that night. Crab cakes paved the way for the perfectly cooked filet.
Day 3 would bring the most adventurous & educational day in my 25+ years of fishing.
The scenery was amazing. 4 of us descended upon a private property paradise in the heart of thousands of acres of apple orchards & vineyards. Imagine walking up on a bear, drunken in it's slumber from all the rotten apples it's eaten. Apparently they are much more prone to run you down and maul you to shit if you wake them from their booze soaked dreams. No time for pictures when you're running full speed!
The local tavern:
Other wildlife included foxes, 40 lb. coyotes, mink, deer fleeing as the sounds of distant shotgun blasts rang out, Saturday being the opening day of gun season... innumerable birds of prey, including owls, eagles & various hawks. With the abundant fish, it's really no surprise there were so many large birds present. I was informed that there were bald eagles on the property prior to our arrival. The host to the property, my right hand man for the day...told me he had only seen the eagle a few times, maybe thirty or forty feet overhead. As we were standing together in a very narrow valley, casting to visible fish, a mature bald eagle rounded the bend, talons outstretched as it came down to grab an easy meal. As fast as it made the turn, it saw the two upright intruders so out of place and immediately began applying the brakes, hovering briefly only 15' or so above us before taking off on it's way. Incredible. My buddy was overcome with joy. This was definitely the highlight of his day. He could not get over how close he was to the bird's grasping yellow spurs. This is somewhere he visits regularly, so to see his disbelief only added to the amazement that would continue to fill the day.
The 4 of us inserted ourselves down a steep embankment, perhaps an elevation change of 300'. 2 anglers decided to attack the lower one & a half mile stretch, an easier approach... while myself and the local were to travel twice that distance upstream, representing an increase in both elevation & danger. Little did I know what was to come. We left the other two & were in about a half mile before I had to take my electronics & beer laden backpack off and hoist it over my head as I hopped into a green pool of water that came up about waist deep. "Trust me, I take this route all the time" I was told, to ease my fear of jumping into what may have been a 15' deep chasm.. My second taste of excitement for the day. I made my way to the other side & we approached the first run I was to fish.
30+ inch fish were holding to a shale line in fast moving water. At this point I was taught how to drift an egg properly through a fast run, drag free. This would be the building block for the remainder of the day's lesson. If your presentation is not perfect, the fish will not take it. I caught all of my fish on 6 lb. test. This is the first key. Practically invisible line. Next is the amount of weight & where it is applied on the leader. Too close to the fly & it will sink too quickly, stopping the drift. Too little weight & it shoots over the head of the fish. This would be different in every run of water I would encounter. After adjusting the variables, I achieved the desired result, quickly hooking into a world class brown trout. The fish was a bit lethargic as the cold temperatures from the early morning lingered. I was impressed with the fight, interesting as it was. The fish did what it wanted at a leisurely pace before finally coming to hand. It was huge. Even though I've caught others, to me...this was my first trout.
The day went on.
This was one of the many fish I landed that had large holes in it from the eagle's talons.
We snaked our way up steep wall canyons of slate, passing by holes with names like "the bomb shelter", "the stage" & "the aquarium", each with a story outlining the history of the hole & how it received it's name. The bomb shelter is a jade pool with a large blowdown that is consistently home to some truly large fish who linger in the safety of the submerged branches. These fish were bigger than any we saw or caught throughout the day. They are safe there, casting to these fish would be foolish as they would immediately seek refuge in the complicated mess below. The stage is a hole that has a large, flat surface with a concave amphitheater behind it. The bank curves inward over sixty feet & rises twice that. Large trees and their exposed root systems hang overhead. The acoustics here are amazing as the creek makes a hard left turn, bubbling over shale stair steps. Moving upstream, through winding little chutes & steep terrain, we came to the aquarium. The aquarium is a deep, deep cut, maybe 20+ feet...but only 10' wide at places. We estimated there to be 300 or so fish condensed into this run that equates to a large fish tank. It was appropriately named as you just stand there in awe, peering into the deep, clear water full of fish. Here the fish are staging to make their final few jumps up a series of waterfalls.
I too was faced with a decision concerning the waterfalls. I could wait behind while my partner moved forward through the dangerous pass, I could rappel up a 75' shale cliff face and hike an additional strenuous 500 yards or I could attempt the pass myself.
You have 2-3" of space to place your boots, one at a time. Not a lot of room for error as you can see, if you fall in it's not going to be good. This is the view I was looking at as I considered my options:
And this is the view I had looking down after one of the craziest things I've done to get to fish:
I must admit I was proud of myself as I looked back at what looked like an impossible pass.
My main instructions were "do not panic, whatever you do". It took everything I had not to panic. I was scared on the way up. I took a knee & thanked the man upstairs before moving on.
The life threatening ascent was totally worth the effort. Above the chute was a large pair of waterfalls where two creeks combined.
I landed more fish and had more memorable fights here than anywhere else on the trip. Fish rocketing off waterfalls. 34" chromers. It was here that I learned the true power of these fish. They are arguably the fastest freshwater fish, reaching speeds of 20 mph. I can say with 100% certainty I saw 20 mph fish. I hooked one that just never stopped. It jumped down waterfall after waterfall, a speeding silver bullet until finally I had to just give up, palming the reel until the line broke free. I could still see the fish rocketing down the mountainside as I turned to head back to the pools.
The topography was surreal.
So was the fishing.
I had options going up the falls. I had no options going down. Going down them was more hazardous than the ascent, so we were to take the "safe" route & travel a ridge along a goat trail. This is the view looking down at the aquarium:
Looking upstream at the falls where my prayers were answered:
The ridge gave us a great vantage point over the various holes we had fished through. Yet another amazing view.
There was only one way off the ridge, and it was interesting to say the least.
My rappelling gear consisted of two fly rods, a heavy backpack and my bare hands. Believe it or not, it's pretty easy to hang on when you know if you lose your grip you're falling 50' onto slate.
After the journey down the two ropes, we fished our way slowly back down the river as darkness descended upon us. We arrived at the foot of the 300' incline we had eagerly jostled down over 12 hours earlier. We climbed it with only slightly less enthusiasm. Estimated distance traveled is around 5 miles of what I would call "complicated" terrain. I limped pretty good the following days, as my thighs were turned to mashed potatoes as we quickly tried to beat dusk. We busted up the other 2 fella's nap party at the truck, broke down our gear and hit the road back to our friend's house, then on to the hotel. The fishing portion of the trip was done. Everyone had a great time. Things will never be the same. I find myself saying that after every fishing trip I have been a part of lately. My early trips to Cumberland chasing striped bass with live shad, recent Cumberland winter trips where the surface blitzes last hours into the night, epic Tennessee trips where I've landed true cow bass over 40 lbs., my first trip to the salt, this year... to Montauk, the epitome of surf fishing the NE coast & a true striped bass fanatic's paradise... & now this gem of a memory. Through connections made on this trip, another fire was lit for a striper trip to the south coast of Maine. I learned how to drift complicated seams drag free, land huge fish on super light tippet, rock climb & rappel guerrilla style & fool the pickiest of an adversary in gin clear water. In this constantly evolving game we play, if you remain a student, things will never be the same.
They just keep getting better.
A special thanks goes out to my loving wife, who puts up with me being gone on crazy fishing trips and being a fly fishing nut in general. She had cold beer & homemade beef stew waiting on me when I got home. A perfect ending to a perfect trip.
