Hal's getting sick of me talking about them and sending him youtube links of flycasting rednecks...so I went out today, 9wt rigged up short and stout with various flies representing any number of PCB muck dwelling unmentionables (left the dog food and superglue on the meat hook pattern at home for starters), and set off looking for the legendary Berkshire Bonefish. Yes, I'm desperate, but before you trout guys (you especially, Taj, with your native baby brookies and all) get all up on your big ponies about it, consider this, by Dave Whitlock, one of those old master (albeit also white & vest-wearing) fly guys:
Let's create a super-fish for fly fishing in the 21st Century. It should be smart, selective, strong, fast, almost indestructible, and plentiful in cold, cool, warm, and tropical waters from coast to coast and border to border. This super-fish should never need stocking, must coexist peacefully with other gamefish, feed on flies from top to bottom, and be as colorful as a Snake River cutthroat. Such a mysterious wonder-fish would be as valuable as gold, so we should call it something special; how about the "Golden Ghost?"
What fish could we cross to develop such a magnificent super-hybrid? How about first crossing a bonefish with a permit for speed, strength, wariness, selectivity, and prestige? For durability, let's cross this "per-bone" with a redfish and a cutthroat for brilliant color, ability to live in warm or cold waters, and a distinct willingness to feed from top to bottom on flies that imitate almost every conceivable natural food.
There's still one more ability that this wonderful fish needs to posses: the ability to survive man's pollution. Resistance to acid rain, PCBs, heavy metals, siltation, and oxygen depletion, as well as disease and parasites, would be a distinct advantage. It looks like we'd have to find a stainless-steel fish for the final hybridization. The crazy twist to this fantasy fish idea is that nature has already evolved it for us, and it has lived in the United States for well over 100 years. It's been in Europe and in its native Asia much longer. This incredible fish is the carp, and I'm coming out of the closet to tell you that I've been quietly fly fishing for this "golden ghost" for over 50 years.
Found a gap in the guardrail, parked in some scrappy grass, dodged dog poo (which felt appropriate) all the way to the 'launch' (which was really just a place where there was enough trash piled up that the big bushes wouldn't grow) then paddled off...sounds of the spillway at the paper mill on the horizon that almost sounded like a rushing river...day dreams of screaming backing mixed with the uncertainty of how to land one of these in my kayak flickering in my head...From Keith Meyers, a columnist at WashingtonFlyfishing.com, yeah, this is sort of what it was like:
The big day has finally come and you’ve found a spot that should have some carp. You have on good sunglasses and a hat, and have your rod rigged with a 9’ 2x leader and a #6 wooly bugger. As you approach the water you hear a carp jump out in the distance and your pace quickens just a bit. Once on the shore you look around to see if you can see anything moving, then start walking the bank. Within a few yards there appears a big streak of mud in the water in front of you as a carp flees to deeper water. Dang!
Slower now, up ahead you see a muddy area and even a bit of a wake. A few more feet and you can make out the outline of the fish, working in the gravel just a few feet from shore. Nervously you strip out some line and make that first cast. The fly lands just past the fish--perfect-- and you watch in horror as the fish stops feeding and slowly fades into the depths. This happens with the next three carp you actually manage to cast to, and you start to wonder if this is all a big fish story. Hang in there! You switch to an unweighted #8 Hare’s ear, and soon see a dark spot in the water ahead. Staying further back this time, you cast at what you suspect is the business end of the fish and let the fly settle, then slowly strip it back to you. The fish doesn’t move, so you cast again, this time taking a step closer, and again the fish ignores your fly. Another step and you realize that you have been casting to a hunk of sunken driftwood. As you stand there feeling rather stupid, you see another carp cruising towards you near the bottom. Casting way out in front of him you stand riveted in place as you watch your fly slowly disappear and the carp draw nearer. When the carp seems to be a few feet from where you hope your fly is, you strip in a foot of line to move your fly just a bit. Did the carp just change direction a little? Did he just STOP? Lifting the rod slowly you are stunned to see the line draw tight - fish on!!! Water flies everywhere as the carp bolts for deeper water, your rod flexes further than you thought possible, and you realize too late that you have the reel’s spool trapped in your hand. The 2x tippet pops, your whole body shakes, you stare into the water, and realize that although the carp is off, YOU are hooked so securely that you will never be the same again!
...all except the "fish on" part...
Since I know you all are dying to get out there, here's what I learned:
(1) The fuckers are everywhere. Splashing, tailing, breaching, cruising, in deep water and in the several inch-deep muddy flats, in pods and solo, in the weeds and the clear water - everywhere. Like rabbits. But Rabbits that laugh at me.
(2) For fish that I though would eat anything, I have no fucking idea what they eat. I cast leaches and helgramites, black, brown, red, white, and blue, with eyes and without and that sink and float. I cast my $6 orange-clawed crayfish pattern, dropped it right in the mud, right in front of them, I cast big 'hoppers and small mayflies on the surface - which were they jumping after? I even wiped a wooly bugger under my armpit and spit on it...Nothing. Not a look.
(3) I know all this because it's got to be 100% sight fishing. See them, cast to them, see the fuckers swim away. Not sure how else you'd do it and I can't catch them either way - blind or looking - but it SEEMED like I should try for that advantage at least. In any case, the kayak was too low so I had to stand in it (read 'who's that guy doing the hula out there?') or I had to find a log or sand bar (mud bar, really) to get up on. In any case, get up. Hard enough if you can't see them - at least know there's one where you're casting...and so you can see it ignore you...maybe you'll learn more from it than I did.
hummmm...I'll have to do a little more reading...in the mean time, I'm going to go grab some Tecate in a can and cast my 00wt for some bluegill then maybe get up early tomorrow to look for a few brookies in the Green with it too.
...tell me again, Ryan, about manifest destiny and why we all went west?
"Damn thing's three times the size of my head!"
New posts'll go up every day I go out...
1 comment:
My hypothesis is that PCBs make the berkshire bonefish faster than a permit or pompano - nothing can grow on 'em to slow 'em down.
Erik
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