Beulah Blog

Friends, it was a tough fall.  Wait, let me back up.  It was a tough summer.  Remember the high water temperatures?  The endless 95-degree days and all that nonsense?  Yeah, it was a while ago, and it’s full-on winter now.  So…Never mind about that.

As I was saying, a tough fall.

Not many steelhead swam back to Idaho.  I heard a lot of them ended up in this river just over the border in Washington and Oregon, but I wasn’t fishing that river.  Don’t ask me why not.  I just wasn’t.  I was fighting the good fight, or whatever you call it, and imposing that fight upon my dad as well.  Poor guy, he just wants to escape his responsibilities and routine and spend a week and a half fishing for steelhead, and I make him do it on the biggest, trickiest, crowdedest river this state has, the Clearwater.  At least I don’t make him fish dry flies.

We didn’t expect much.  It was my only week to swing flies for the fall (more on that later), and fish counts over the dams were abysmal.  We weren’t completely disappointed.  In our second run of the second morning, Dad broke his three-year Clearwater streak of utter shit luck and landed this one.

Same day, different run.  We kept fishing through the dog-day sunlight because, well, I personally drank way too much coffee to go take a nap, though that might have been the sensible thing.  I spent two-thirds of the afternoon’s run getting glassy eyed, watching my skater pull a pointless wake.  Why was I fishing a skater?  Because why not.  I love watching them, and I love that when a fish shows on your fly it feels like a magic trick made real-life.  On a river like the Clearwater, especially on a low-fish year, it’s not going to be about the numbers anyway (though to be honest, it never is, no matter where I am).  So the occasional fish might as well be special, really special.  I didn’t really perk up until the tailout, which felt inexplicably greasy.  Good sense might have said it was a little too fast, but I kept fishing it through the lip and into the first few scattered waves of the riffle, because who needs good sense.  They can hold further down in that stuff than you’d expect…unless, for a reason you can’t put a finger on, you kind of expect it…so I made sure not to even flinch when the first splashy boil blew up juuuust behind my skater…or when the second boil missed it as well, eight feet closer to the bank and two seconds later.  I might’ve said something that’d get you to the principal’s office in grade school, but I tried to act like Dec Hogan or somebody was watching, and suavely backed up several steps.  Tied on a little size 9 orange-bodied muddler with shaky hands and had at it again.  Took me several swings to get back down there, but he was in the same spot.  Yeah, “he”.  I got a few good looks as he was airing out around the middle of the riffle – another thick, wild b-run male. And then, there was just stationary tension on the line.  What the hell?  I hauled back slowly.  I could still feel some movement.  I read the water where my line seemed to come from, and put together the two and two that meant I was wrapped half around a rock.  (OK, don’t do anything stupid, you’ve got a big, mean, real deal fish short-leashed.)  I was getting ready to wade back out into the tailout above:  the rock in question was only about thirty feet from shore.  I could do it.  I could make this end well…and then I watched him thrash, half out of the water, and break me off.

That was the only steelhead I’ve hooked in the year 2015.

(Disclaimer:  I did leave for the majority of the fall season, and rowed a boat down the Grand Canyon, where there are zero steelhead. Not an excuse, but a pretty decent explanation.)

Anyway, dry spells happen, and they happen to all of us.  As they do, your odds get better and better.  Or so I like to tell myself.  I don’t know where my next fish will come from, or when.  I know it will eat a swung fly; one that I tied or a friend tied.  For now, for me, that’s good enough.

Place: Hunter Island South Carolina a.k.a “The Dirty South” 😉 December.

Fishing had been horrible even for the “live baiters” and guys with boats [ no boat for me and no $ for a guide right now so I was from-shore fishing only]. Having been eaten alive by mosquitos on long hikes to places with no fish I was cynical at best. But then I met this super cool local redneck chick [I’m a redneck so we had that in common]. She “hooked me up” with the general location of a solid spot and I fished there that evening on outgoing tide! Every cast I landed a speckled trout. My point? Be nice to the locals and be friendly to all on the road.

The Story:

The next morning.

The tide was coming in fast around me and was standing on a island of razor sharp oyster shells, knee deep mud, and sea grass.  I wasn’t in my waders, no stripping basket, nothing, just my rod – it was a spur of the moment decision. I thought to myself, “I had caught plenty of Speckled Trout there last night, I’ll see if anything is there on incoming tide on my way out of town.” I live in a tiny home / ford transit 250 so I pulled my home to the side of the road and ran to the spot knowing I only had maybe 15 minutes before the water would be too high.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fly: Small: maybe a size 10 clouser. I picked it because it did double duty; part shrimp looking and part bait fish.

Rod: Beulah 6/7 switch.

I thought for sure I was out gunned when it hooked. I had never put this rod thru such an extreme test. Would the rod snap? I had to keep changing the angle. The fish went where it wanted to go stripping line and I ran up the bank and followed. I had no idea what I had hooked. A Red would have been too good to be true. I thought it was a black tip shark and said, “fuck it, I’ll see how long I can keep it on.”  Then, the head and tail came out of the water and my heart stopped. Omg! My first Red and it’s a monster. Now I had to get it in and get a photo. But NO CAMERA WITH ME! I yelled to some guys passing in a small boat and asked if they had a camera. They said, “What the fuck are you some Hollywood celebrity, we ain’t got no camera. But whadda ya got there?” I ignored them and focused on the lug on the end of my line.

Fish: Red / Spot about 15 or more lbs and 30″. It’s hard to tell from the pict but look at my size 10 foot, the rod, and that huge 10wt Nautilus reel. < Yeah, I know it’s too big for this rod but I’m unconventional. No Rules.

*Note: Bogagrips just used to keep his head down for pict! #catchandrelease

I landed the fish and sprinted to my #vantagati to get my iPhone! Too big for a selfie but here you go. I was high for 4 hours after that, reliving every moment of the catch. I fish alone. I don’t have anyone to fish with most of the time so I got on the phone and sent a text to everyone and anyone I thought would care. I had to put it here too. This is why I fish. This is why I love it. Not just for big fish but for the entire experience and everything WE get to see while fly fishing that the rest of the world is missing!

For more on the van and life on the road:[ instagram sstevebbff ] I’ve been fishing my way from Maine to here and this was a highlight.

 

 

Arguably some of the most productive fly fishing in New England is along the Rhode Island Coast. The open shoreline is exposed to cool clean water of the North Atlantic while islands, bays, and beaches provide prime habitat for bait and predator fish. In Early Spring, stripe bass migrate into the area and inundate the waterways in search of food.

On a recent visit I was able to explore and fish some of the tidal salt ponds that dot the RI coast line. These massive tidal ponds are rich with life, bait, stripers, and incredible fly fishing opportunities. Expanses of flats are punctuated by deeper channels and small grassy islands. Tidal fluctuations and current present an ever changing landscape and huge variety for fly fishing stripe bass.

The ponds flood and ebb twice daily. The tide brings cool nutrient rich water, an abundance of bait, and predatory fish. Stripers swim in and out of the ponds through breech ways which open out to the Atlantic. Understanding the tides is key to fishing the ponds successfully. These ponds hold huge volumes of water and take so long to fill and empty that they have their own schedule for high and low tide. Tidal differences in the front of the pond can be 3 hours different from the ocean tides, and even 5 hours difference towards the back of the ponds. It might take a day or two to figure out exact time of the tidal change, but it’s absolutely necessary for knowing when and where to fish inside the ponds.

Much of the flats become exposed at low tide and fish will either exit the ponds, or lay in deeper channels and holes. The dropping tide was most productive for me and I would time my outings to begin an hour or two before the high tide and fish for 2-3 hours into the drop.

Shore fishing from the breech way jetties, or walk wading can be productive, but the ponds are best accessed with Kayak or shallow draft boats. This will allow you access to flats and back channels. Most people I saw pond fishing were trolling from boats in the channels, leaving the flats virtually unfished.

When Stripe bass do come up on the flats, they can be very challenging to take with a fly. They will spook easy and are often more selective than not. As with Permit, bonefish, or any flats quarry, presentation is everything. Anticipating the fishes’ movement and having a fly waiting will increase your odds. The ponds hold sand eels, crabs shrimp, and small baitfish; flies should be a close match.

We used Kayaks and rowed from spot to spot casting from the bank or sometimes getting out and wading the flats. Unfortunately, on this trip, grey skies during high tide hours made spotting fish difficult, but I have fished the ponds under better conditions and would put it right up there with the bone fishing I’ve done in the tropics.

On cloudy days, I found myself moving between rips and deeper troughs searching for fish. I adopted the belief that either they are there or not and would not spend too much time if fish weren’t showing or biting. After pulling the kayak up onto a point or beach, I would cast step cast until I found fish or exhausted the spot and moved on. The ponds are uncrowded and pressure is light. Site fishing on the flats is virtually untouched on the ponds and you can easily get away and have entire flats to yourself. Night fishing under the full moon was also very productive casting black Clousers into rips and troughs.

On our best day we landed 10 and lost another 5 fish in a 4 hour span, and even found time to harvest some littleneck clams for dinner. The fish were not big on this outing, most in the 25-30” range, but super fun on 8 & 9wt rods.

 

Gear Talk~

RI Saltwater Ponds~

Opal 8wt – Perfect for the flats and delicate presentation casting small bait patterns and crustaceans.

Line: Serum 300gr w/integrated sink clear 12’tip. The smaller size Serum lines have extended rear tapers to soften the presentation, but cast quick and accurate yet still powers decent size flies.

Opal 9wt – loaded with 300gr sink was used in deeper water situations casting sand eels and baitfish.

Opal Surf 7/8 & 9/10 – The only choice for blind casting and covering water.  Opal Surf rods make distance casting easy and covering water a cinch.

Line: Serum tip system – Throughout the tide cycle I was able to adjust the sink rate by changing the tip and kept the fly in the zone through the full tide cycle.