Fishing John's Creek has been more experimental than anything else. I have only seen a few trout this season, and only caught a couple. The practice in tight quarters, and stealth approach has been invaluable though. If they've stocked anything in John's Creek this year, it has been caught or washed out by the heavy rains this spring. I've seen as many bear tracks up there as I have trout in that stream. The first week that I went, I got a few bites, but that's about it. Probably because my bait didn't taste like fish food. These are stockers, mind you. They've eaten pellets their entire life up until the last week when they were dumped in the stream to be caught and eaten by hungry fisherman. That's the just of it though, for in a week, we will enter a land where throut eat insects, and that's all. Never has a pellet of fish food entered the digestive track of one of these elusive creatures.
Conasauga River. Nestled alongside the Jack's River in the Cohutta Wilderness Area. This area has not been stocked with trout in many, many years, so these fish know what's going on. I have never fished the river, or the Jack's for that matter, so it will be a challenge for sure. I'm sure it will be a learning experience rather than a dumbfounding one though.
You have surely noticed that this is this is the same weekend as Easter Sunday. Needless to say I'm going anyway. I've already asked for the weekend off form the liquor store, so I may as well make the best of it. I've never been that interested in Easter anyway, so I guess I'll grab my camera and my flyrod and head for the "Connie." Most people won't be able to get away this weekend, so some decisions will have to be made and priorities set. Mine is at the stream bank currently. Being in nature is what makes me happy and I don't even have to be drunk.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Are We There Yet?
Fishing Blog. Star date, April 3, 2011.
Whatever. Fishing at John's Creek was a myriad of emotions. Pain, hate, disgust, frustation, love, pleasure, relaxation. The day started off ok. After assembleing my rod and putting on a leader I hiked down to the creek, carefully observing, and seeing no obvious bugs except for millions ofgiant black flies, I tied on a fly and began to cast. I spent the next hour or so pulling my line out of the trees, bushes, and out from under rocks and submerged trees. Very frustrating. I hiked down the creek about a mile or so and really didn't even see any fish, just casting into places where fish might be hiding, and getting a few bites here and there.
I began to tire and get a little hot, so I hiked back to the truck, had some coffee and water, and moved across the road to fish a spot someone had told me about. Sure enough, there were lots of fish in it, and I got a few bites but couldn't land anything. And let me tell you why. I got my line hung on a log on the other side of the creek, and wanting to not lose the fly, which I ended up losing anyway, so I crossed the creek, climbed down right on top of the hole, and freed the line. So that hole was finished for the day.
There was nobody fishing the creek on the other side of the bridge, so I made my way over there, and the same, had a few bites, but nothing else. I could see some fish on the other side of the creek, but I couldn't get them to come out. It's not like I was the only one not catching anything, I didn't see anyone land a fish and there were probably 25 people out there.
I walked up the road where I could see the creek about 20 feet below. Behind a rock I saw something move so I stood there for a minute just to see. Then it turned and I could see the trademark stripe on the big rainbow's side. I walked a little further down the road and climbed down the bank. After tying on a caddisfly, I cast across to the other side of the rock and let it drift over him. He wouldn't take it so I soaked it with water and cast it over again and let it sink down going past him. He took it this time but when I gave a tug, he spit it out and the line snapped back into the trees, so I snapped it back the other way and the line wrapped around a bush next to the rock the fish was hiding behind. So he was gone.
While I was untangling the line, I realized that it wasn't even the same rock I had seen from the road and that I had a clear shot for it. So I cast over the rock and when it came over him, he grabbed it and took off. And then, line, leader, and fly came flying back at me. Lost him. I was fed up with those huge flies at this point, so I packed it up and headed for home.
Whatever. Fishing at John's Creek was a myriad of emotions. Pain, hate, disgust, frustation, love, pleasure, relaxation. The day started off ok. After assembleing my rod and putting on a leader I hiked down to the creek, carefully observing, and seeing no obvious bugs except for millions ofgiant black flies, I tied on a fly and began to cast. I spent the next hour or so pulling my line out of the trees, bushes, and out from under rocks and submerged trees. Very frustrating. I hiked down the creek about a mile or so and really didn't even see any fish, just casting into places where fish might be hiding, and getting a few bites here and there.
I began to tire and get a little hot, so I hiked back to the truck, had some coffee and water, and moved across the road to fish a spot someone had told me about. Sure enough, there were lots of fish in it, and I got a few bites but couldn't land anything. And let me tell you why. I got my line hung on a log on the other side of the creek, and wanting to not lose the fly, which I ended up losing anyway, so I crossed the creek, climbed down right on top of the hole, and freed the line. So that hole was finished for the day.
There was nobody fishing the creek on the other side of the bridge, so I made my way over there, and the same, had a few bites, but nothing else. I could see some fish on the other side of the creek, but I couldn't get them to come out. It's not like I was the only one not catching anything, I didn't see anyone land a fish and there were probably 25 people out there.
I walked up the road where I could see the creek about 20 feet below. Behind a rock I saw something move so I stood there for a minute just to see. Then it turned and I could see the trademark stripe on the big rainbow's side. I walked a little further down the road and climbed down the bank. After tying on a caddisfly, I cast across to the other side of the rock and let it drift over him. He wouldn't take it so I soaked it with water and cast it over again and let it sink down going past him. He took it this time but when I gave a tug, he spit it out and the line snapped back into the trees, so I snapped it back the other way and the line wrapped around a bush next to the rock the fish was hiding behind. So he was gone.
While I was untangling the line, I realized that it wasn't even the same rock I had seen from the road and that I had a clear shot for it. So I cast over the rock and when it came over him, he grabbed it and took off. And then, line, leader, and fly came flying back at me. Lost him. I was fed up with those huge flies at this point, so I packed it up and headed for home.
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