Fly Fishing

No, I Don’t Fish For Shad…

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This is my go-to shad fly for the Potomac. On other rivers I swear by orange or red but at home it’s pink & white for the first draw out of the fly box.

Lots of people ask me if I fish for shad. I’m usually quick to respond with a firm “no!” Except that I do fish for them during certain windows. I don’t guide for them either. Bold statements but I have my reasoning.

Shad fishing is, to me, the stuff that’s best left to kids. It not something a season fly fisherman takes on. No, it’s the stuff of adventure and exploring that only someone with a free spirit should take on! Manicured spring-creek fisherman beware: the tide line and the adjacent creeks full of flotsam and jetsam (and trash) are no place for you. The season itself is a dangerous time for the pale skin of winter. One must be prepared for that strange sensation when shed layers and short sleeves bare your dermis to the sun’s radiation! “Why is my face so red?” I said last week. Oh yes, I was exposed to the sun and it feels great!

Some years I just don’t have it in me. I live right next to the Potomac tide-line and can ride my bike down there. It’s not easy climbing over the rocks down there often only to find a dude with a cast net or snag rig is on your favorite rock that has the perfect tree-free casting zone. I’m often dismayed by the groups of poachers or piles of beer cans left from the previous evening’s nigh-crawlers.  Other years, I am up before the sun and on and off the river before work several days in a row. I jones for it and my body is in Potomac mode before I wake up.

Why not guide for shad? I think it’s something that should be left for the backyard adventurer. When I was young, places like “down under the bridge” were the escape for teenage anglers who dared brave the woods full of “campers” and drifters walking the train tracks. In college, I would bike across the city to chase shad and stripers at all hours. It was not for the faint of heart and maybe not on my list of safest choices. Still, there was something to be explored in a city of nearly a million people – a treasure of hard won empty space.

It’s something to be explored at least once. The novice angler can manage the tactics needed; a stout fly rod, a sinking fly line, a short piece of 3x tippet for a leader, and a handful of flies. Find an eddy and get swinging. I generally try to lob my sinking line, with what I hope is a bit of finesse – sinking line casting is ugly – into the current and feed a mend into the running line. This allows the line to descend as it drifts. I wait as long as I can stand. Too long and my fly or oven my expensive fly line could be lost to Leviathan. Not waiting long enough and I may not get down to the fish. Then I begin the swing with my rod under my arm. I strip two-handed at various speeds. There’s no recipe here. Just yesterday I was catching fish with a fast retrieve, slow, and even in short bursts of speed. Shad are funny fish. I even had a few takes just under the surface. I came home muddy, bleeding from one shin, and happy.

I’ll soon leave the shad behind in favor if the mayflies of the trout streams but I have a few more shad outings in me to get that morning fix. There’s even a school of stripers now and then to keep me daydreaming of monsters.

On Not Fishing

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I’ve worked hard to get my kids out fishing on afternoons where there’s no school. It means getting my day job work done ahead of time and packing the night before so we can leave as soon as the morning calls wrap up. The past weeks required a little stream side conference calling and after lunch we headed up river. I was so pumped to finally have a few hours to fish with them. We went fishing alright.

We’d started our day with a tired 6yo – his birthday in fact – and our mourning routine had quite a bit of grumbling from all parties. I put in some time at the desk in the morning and continued on the speaker while we drove to the river. I’ll say that fishing is usually about an hour for us in the winter – if we’re lucky. It’s not an epic day of beating the water. The little hands freeze up fast and the hot chocolate starts calling.  So, after feeling like I neglected my boys while talking on the phone for hours, we cleaned up lunch and geared up. If I ever complained about helping clients get dressed for the water I’m sorry. Wrestling waders on two little boys and then myself results in much sweat and cold hands! 

This particular day ended with a cold swim. I had to explain that we all take a spill every once in a while. The bag of towels and spare clothes sure came in handy that day

Two rigged rods in hand, we made our trek up river. I was hopeful! I’d tied a handful of fresh small wooly buggers the night before and we were headed for a rematch with some fish that had not made it to the net the week before. My guys’ little legs made it quite far upstream and, just as we were about to go over the bank I hear the tired voice of the birthday boy say: 

“I want to go home.” 

“Wait, what?”  I said. Surely I misheard! Could I be sweating through my many layers only to hear THIS?

“I just want to go back to the truck and go home.” Jake said.

Let’s sit on this log and talk this over” I asked, hoping to rally the troops. 

Luke chimed in, “If he doesn’t want to fish, I’m ok if we go home too.”  

“OK,” I sighed, “let’s head back to the truck and we can fire up a movie for the ride home” 

I was deflated. We never made it into the water. I was feeling somewhere between the father from Christmas Story after the Bumpass Hounds at the turkey and the dad from A River Runs Through It – “Boys, what have you done?” 

A Few Fresh flies to feed to the bushes

Obviously my kids were not giving up on trout fishing, they were just tired. This came to me on the long walk back to the truck where their spirits remained surprisingly high; better than they were doing while fist-fighting during lunch while I tried to do work on the tailgate. But we never even got our boots wet. They were muddy and I got some alone time that night while hosing things off in the cold out back.

Later that night my older son said, at bedtime, that he couldn’t wait to do it again. The little one even said he had fun. I have to remember that they’re young and 90% of the fun is taking a drive with “the old man” (as Luke calls me) and having lunch and snacks and hot chocolate and 10% is the fishing. Given the current events, I think I can settle for the weighting being more toward the family time. 

It rained, it snowed, we fished

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This morning I thought I’d be over dressed for fishing. I started my day south of the Big Gunpowder in 50+ weather and ended at 34 degrees with rain and snow flakes. I know we just have to hang in there for a couple more weeks and we’ll be fishing in t-shirts. – Micah

…on new flies

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I tried hard to show off that fly but the fish were a little too hungry!

 Armed with a new fly pattern, I set out to get a picture of it hanging from the corner of a fish’s mouth. I was sure it would work but who really knows when it comes to new flies. There were plenty of fish willing to hook themselves but nearly every one was hooked in a manner that wouldn’t allow for a photo of the fly. One large fish even broke off, stealing the fly I was trying to get shots of. It was laughable. How could I be angry that the fish were taking my fly? Years ago someone told me “you can fish, or take pictures, but it’s hard to do both.” That same person told me the old photographer’s joke “…if you want to take better pictures, get better looking friends.”

  Of course, there were only 4 flies tied and that’s never enough if it’s the one that’s working. With 2 in the trees or on the bottom, and 1 in a fish, the rest of the afternoon was spent casting with less boldness. You can bet a dozen or two will get turned out at the vise this week. As for the photos, I may just have to settle for a picture of it in the vise.

 Let’s go fishing! 

Micah & The Knee Deep Team

Scenes From the Banks

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The banks of the Big Gunpowder look a little different after the high water.

After Hurricane Sandy and the nearly 3,000cfs spike in flows, the banks of the Big gunpowder look a little different. While the high water changes the look of a river and can be hard on its aquatic life, these too-frequent epic-high-water events are a good chance to study the life of the river. Those of us who spend a lot of time on the water are familiar with its banks and the contours of its runs. There’s nothing like walking and wading your favorite stretches and discovering new runs and log-jams if you’ve been bitten hard by the fishing bug.

Some insect sampling revealed lots of caddis and mayflies holding tight to the rocks and a few midges. One thing we discovered is a lot of olive mayflies. We’ve always fished dark brown and olive Gold Ribbed Hare’s Ears and treating yourself to an olive hare’s mask would be $5 well spent if you tie your own. The midges that were netted were more cream and green than any of the red or black varieties. Super tiny and active in a sampling bin, they were hard to photograph. We shot a few through some stacked lenses and will think skinnier and longer in the future. A size 16 curved hook with tan thread will be in the box this winter.

We netted a few midges and quite a few snails!

Headed out this week? Think deep and set the hook every time your strike indicator stalls even for a moment.

Keep your boots clean,

The Knee Deep Team

Patuxent River Monday

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 …photos are at the bottom!

I took a ride around the north end of DC to Mongomery/Howard County to fish the Patuxent River. With the whole day to myself, I took the scenic route. This brought me past the Brighton Dam area, which I hadn’t fished since last season, so I decided to pull in and check it out. To my surprise, a stocking truck pulled up and a few volunteers helped toss buckets of fish into the river. It was nice to see fish going in there as it’s a great chunk of catch and release water for the new angler to cut their teeth on. It’s worth checking out after work on a weekday; just don’t stay too late and get locked in by the park staff!

A short run in the truck took me upriver to the Howard’s Chapel Rd crossing and I fished upstream almost to Hipsley Mill Rd. The early spring was giving the rose bushes a head start – I can’t wait to see how my waders hold up on the cold Gunpowder after this run – and the terrestrials too. I didn’t see many of the river’s crayfish but there were Japanese beetles and enough caddis to get me to prospect with an Elk Hair Caddis. I turned over a few rocks and found big mayflies, caddis and scuds in the riffles. I got a chance to watch from a high carved bank as two fish picked their lunch from the current below me and fed on the surface as well as sub-surface while I enjoyed a cigar from our pals over at W. Curtis Draper Tobacconists. Most of my hits and misses came on tan buggers and crayfish patterns despite the fish watch for smaller forage.

If you’re looking to explore this stream that’s right in our backyards, travel light with a few attractor patterns and streamers. If you’ve got some small hand pruners, save yourself some stress and a few scrapes, by tossing them in your wader pouch. Bring a camera to catch the birds and flowers that are popping up a couple weeks behind the city. Cast to the under-cut banks and downfalls and you’ll find lots of fish. Take your time and observe. You’ll be surprised what you discover. I left a few flies in the trees for you!  – Micah