So…2 of my favorite fishing partners are headed to Alaska in less than a month and even though I’ve logged many hours on 2 streams a few prop spins north of where they are going to touch down, I find myself more and more envious of their upcoming adventure.  I don’t envy them for all the normal reasons, I know the trip they are going to have well, it was my life for many days, I envy them  because of the changes that have occurred.  The one thing that hasn’t changed all that much is the fishery.  The salmon are still running, dropping eggs, dying and the trout are gorging.   It’s still epic, but one thing that I find myself wondering is, had I known about spey fishing back then, oh the days we would have had.  Oh sure, we swung flies with single handers back then, but it was a lot of work.  I Imagine what it would have been like if I was armed with the quiver of 2 handers I have now…oh, the 11 foot 5wt on the Pac….mercy.  So instead, I am tying a few snakes for Scott and Kieth to chuck at September bows and hos.  They better get footage…still waiting for the Bahamas footage…

1. Long, delicate casts to visible, actively feeding targets on sunny, sweltering days are your best bet.
2. Sixth-sense strike detection is an art that must be mastered.
3. Expect at least one, mile-long, freight-train run.
4. Once hooked, given stout enough tippet, you're unlikely to lose them.
5. Though carp are fickle, once it "clicks", they start to come much easier.

I'm sure in general 1 and 2 up your chances dramatically...but so far I can only attest to 3 and 4.




Stole 90 minutes last night as the river was "bottoming out" at a cool, extremely turbid, 5,000+ CFS. Though the weather was pleasant (other than a slightly stiff breeze out of the SW), the water didn't look to promising. With the heavy sediment load added to the fairly high flow, no way was crossing the riffles-turned-rapids gonna happen, so a quick tour of the relatively slack water yielded not even a bump from the smallmouth that I had hoped would keep things interesting.

Up at the bottom of the main riffle I figured there was at least a better-than-fair chance of some bass or maybe even a cat gorging themselves on dislodged 'daddies. The past few outings, among more respectable specimens, have yielded multiple sub-3-inch smallies. Even a few of those would be welcome.

The wind, to a "developing" LH caster, meant rolls and speys while working my way north. Hadn't gotten too awful far when the fly got smacked. And I mean smacked. Like a steelie (or here, a smallie) chasing and slamming something on the swing. There was no hookset, I raised the rod and the slack cleared immediately...followed by the rest of the fly line off the reel...followed by another 30+ feet of backing.

As I was double- and triple-checking my drag, and trying not to bust a knuckle, the throbbing suddenly stopped. The pressure was still there, and there was a little give, but that huge sinking feeling hit like a ton of bricks.

Please, please, please...don't let the fly line be caught under a rock....

150' from my quarry and there was a decision to be made. I knew (suspected...hoped) the fish (if it was still on the line) was probably wrapped in the weedbed out in the middle. I knew this weedbed was at least thigh-high in low water (1k). I knew there was an even shallower bar somewhere between me and the bed. I had no idea what else lie between us, other than some fast-moving water. I had no idea how deep the bed itself would be. I had some idea how pissed everyone would be if I drowned chasing a stupid fish.

So, refusing to lose my fly line I got thigh-deep below the riffle, gaining back my backing and a few turns of line, and tried wrenching on the rig. There was definitely still give, but no way was it coming free. Tried giving a little slack but it was all taken by the current and I gained nothing.

The walk out to the hangup revealed little to fear. Never got deeper than my belly button. Getting close it was apparent the fish was still there...somewhere...small fly, pinched barb, tangled up but still there - Alex was right about them staying on. Managed to free itself (with my help) from the tangle, but it would be another 10 minutes before I could get a good look at it.

Bulldogged in water deeper than I could have guessed, and making a few more shorter-but-just-as-powerful runs, finally got it to "the island" (which was under water save the wooden platforms, one of which you see in the pic) and managed a prototypical crappy cell phone photo.

Now that there's one under the belt, things should be looking up, right? Number 5. It's supposed to get easier. But I know that's not the case. I know it was dumb luck. I know there will be a lot more work and many more sweltering fishless days before I get lucky again. I know...I'd rather be lucky than good.

So I celebrated the only way fitting; clipped the fly off the leader and went home.

Yesterday we made another visit to the Möhne river in Germany to see if there where any fish around.
Well, to be to the point the fish where there but we got the feeling that the general size of the fish is going down from what we where used to in the past.

With a hefty price tag for the fishing permit we had expected something more.

Since this particular river is the first nearby real trout stream for us we still are stupid enough to shell out the money every time.

We started the day at the senior citizen stretch aptly named fort he easy access and the always present fish.

The stretch is a canalized part of the river in front of a Watermill, it looks more like a canal than a river.

I did see fish there but somehow I could not stomach fishing there so I left into the forest to see if anything was going on in the more natural stretches of the stream.

Since part of the river was diverted to provide power to a stone quarry and it was high summer there was not much water left in the original river bed.

I spotted a trout rising in a fast run, since I saw no insects flying around I tossed a nymph into the water and hooked a small brown trout right away.

The rest of the river was so shallow that I decided to check out the weir at the stone quarry.

In hindsight I should not have taken the route through the fields since the stinging nettles had grown man high – it was like a jungle out there.

When I finally arrived at the weir I was sweating like a pig.

The weir itself was pretty dead – no flow below it and no fish above.

I decided to fish the turbine channel to the stone quarry and was right into a fish.

A rainbow trout had taken a small streamer.

A few minutes later I hooked a brook trout but that fish managed to throw the hook.

The time flew and since it was almost noon I decided to check up on my buddies because they would surely wanted to get something to eat.

We decided to visit the beergarden at the restaurant of the Niederbergheimer hof.

Since the beergarden was adjacent to the stream we could get something to eat and drink and checkout  the trout at the same time

There was actually a rising fish when we at there and I vowed get that fish when we where done.

So in the afternoon I went to the river at the beergarden and launched a nymph in the water.

It was an immediate hook-up but once again the fish came off.

I spotted another rise so it seemed to me like the place was loaded with fish.

The second attempt yielded yet another rainbow trout.

I spend the whole afternoon fishing a short section of the stream there and had hooked

many fish but only one more stayed on.

In the evening I checked out the other guys that where still fishing the rather boring senior citizen stretch.
They had caught their share of trout on dries and nymphs.

I tried in vain to catch some of the trout that where rising like crazy in the shallow bypass of the watermill.

At first I was fishing a common dry fly pattern but that was totally ignored.

When I fished with an emerger I got takes.

It was fun fishing the dry fly but somehow I could not stay connect to the few fish that I actually hooked. 

The spot had potential but I only managed a little chub from that place while the trout

where rising all around me.

Around eight o clock in the evening we called it a day.

The fishing was good on this day but with the high ticket prices we might have to look

for an alternative place to fish in the future.