Back to the Bonefish

No one really wants to read another trout blog. And the sea salt-seasoned antics of a bunch of rookies wrestling 'wind knots' and hitting themselves in the backs of their heads with four pound bait fish patterns traveling mach II is funny once. But this blog is special because it's about the confounding Berkshire Bonefish. Ubiquitous yet oddly elusive. Bottom-feeding garbage disposals that are also fickle and picky. Golden versions of their more esteemed silver cousins of lower latitude oceanic flats...

Got out again today. Snuck off at 'lunch' to wade around the PCB-laced silt flats by the Bridge Street bridge. I've never seen anyone else on this water - not sure if that means I'm privy to some sort of secret spot, or ignorant of some more profound reason to stay away. But so far I've not broken out into a rash or anything at least...and, more than once, walking past coming to or from the Co-op, I've witnessed some decent Berkshire Bonefish nose down/vent up in the mud...just waiting for someone like me to tie in...had to try...

I first scout from the bridge. I next pitch a piece of dog food I stole from Lulu, my wannabe bird dog, into the water as a sort of offering then wade out in my cotton shorts to a gravel bar in the middle. From the bridge above I'd seen a carp holding and occasionally feeding under some trees on the far bank. There was a much larger one in an easier spot yesterday, but at least i see one and at least it's feeding. Casting a big 8wt (my new 'carp rod' I'd bartered for with some photos—thanks, Tom) in a smaller river lined with the typical overgrown northeastern banks was hard. A few wrestling matches with the leaves later and I'd started getting the fly more or less in position. But at this point and from this angle I had no idea if the fish was still there. In faith, I kept casting, then the line went tight. I wondered if I'd finally done it...Wasn't pulling as hard as I'd expected these suckers to pull, but it was a good tug and it was a smaller one I'd seen. Then it jumped and my heart sank back to normal. Just a bass. The largest small mouth I'd ever caught, perhaps, and even fun enough on my 8wt, but still just a bass. Landed him and a few more (the ones I couldn't simply shake off my atomic hellgrammite pattern, including another good sized one)...but no carp. After a while, I walked back up and across the bridge. Saw another swim into position, went back down, but lost it again by the time I was wet again. Sighting and keeping track of these buggers seems to be one of the things I still need to sort out. But not today. Broke down the rod, walked back, shorts wet and not drying in the July heat and humidity