| Not What I Had Planned -- Again |
|
|
| Sunday, 12 November 2006 | |
|
I decided to go out and do some trout fishing for myself. I haven’t fished for myself in some time. I checked the local streams in the area via the TVA website and found that all the dams in my area would be flowing at least two generators. Why am I not surprised that one of the few weekends I have totally free, the dams decide to flow copious amounts of water? Just my luck. I awoke to high winds and dropping temperatures. A front was coming through, as is normal in the fall. This time of year is unpredictable here in the South. Could be 40 degrees, could be 80 degrees. It all depends on the day. It was spitting rain on my trip to Normandy, TN. I didn’t have to keep the windshield wipers on fully -- the delay function seemed to work well enough. The rain let up closer to the stream, but the wind was still howling out of the north. It was a cold fall wind that makes you realize that winter will soon be here. I arrived to an empty parking lot and no one on the stream. “This could be a good day,” I thought to myself. Having fished the Duck River before, I decided to fish a streamer. The water is dark in color all the time. When you wade just above your thighs, you cannot see the top of your wading boots. It has always been that way ever since I have fished it. It is always dark, and you know that a streamer is the best way to go. I walked upstream from the parking lot and entered the stream. The water was warmer than I remembered. Maybe I have been fishing too much in the tailwaters of East Tennessee, but the water seemed much warmer than what I was used to. Maybe it was the cooler weather that was throwing me off. I waded in and tried to keep my back cast out of the trees. The wind was blowing upstream, so I tried to use this to my advantage to straighten out my back cast. About ¾ of a mile down from where I started, I felt a sharp tug on the fly. I set the hook and pulled in a bluegill. It is not uncommon to catch bluegill here, but I was after trout. I released my small fish back into the water and continued on to a nice run which tails off into a deep hole. I have caught many trout in this area, and was even carrying a sink tip on an extra spool, in case I needed to probe the deeper waters of the hole. I started fishing the top of the run when I felt a very slight change in the retrieve. Not a sharp tug, or a thump or even a whack of the fly, just something different. The retrieve seemed to be just slightly “heavier.” I raised the rod tip to see if the subtle difference was a fish. I then felt the sharp tug of a fish at the end of the rod. The fish made a strong run, and then totally gave up, coming to the surface easily. It was a rock bass. The best way I can think of to express pulling in a rock bass after the initial run is likening it to getting weeds or moss on your line. There is something heavier than your fly attached at the end, but there is little or no fight -- just kind of a dead weight. I managed to get two more rock bass out of the run and then I entered the pool area. I made a few casts with the floating line and the streamer with no success. I decided to switch over to the sink tip to probe deeper into the pool. I made some casts to the far bank and let the fly sink into the deeper part of the pool. The current took the line downstream and I mended the line to adjust the direction of travel. I had made several casts when the line jerked almost out of my stripping hand. I raised the rod tip and the fight was on. The fish pulled really hard, so I knew this was no rock bass. The fish came closer to the surface and then jumped into the air. I was expecting to see the red stripe of a rainbow, but I saw the mottled bronze color of a smallmouth. I managed to get one more smallmouth and a bluegill out of the deeper hole and then decided to head on to my mother’s house to visit. I spent a nice late morning and early afternoon with my mom and nephew. We ran to lunch and I got to see how a one year old eats. It was the most disgusting thing I think I have ever witnessed. There was food on his face, his hands, down his shirt and even in his hair. I am still not sure how much actually went down into the child, but if the exterior was any indication, he should be full. It was nap time at mom’s house so I decided to head onto the Elk River and then back to Chattanooga. When I arrived at the Elk River, there were several fishers downstream. As I walked in, I saw a baitfisher pull in a small rainbow. I was excited to be on another stream on this brisk fall day. I waded up into the water and made a few casts. I had on a streamer and was casting it downstream and allowing it to straighten out before I began the retrieve. I felt a tug and had a fish on. It was a spotted bass. I am on a trout stream and I still manage to catch bass! I pulled one more bass and a bream out of the trout stream. It was getting late in the afternoon, so I decided to start heading back over the mountain to Chattanooga. No trout were ever caught on this excursion; well, not by me anyway. I didn’t intend to go on a bass fishing trip, but it turned out that way. The wind had become very fierce. My little truck was blown all over the road on the way home. This effect was intensified by the wind being funneled through the mountains in certain areas. I really had to concentrate on my driving due to the wind and wet roads. I arrived home and unpacked my waders to dry out in the extra bathroom so they could drip into the tub. I set my wading boots on the porch outside. I was very tired after a long day. I crawled into bed and began to think about my trip. I had a successful warmwater trip on coldwater. These would probably be the last bass and bream of the year. I have not had too much luck fishing for bass and bream in the winter months. It was nice to catch and release these fish, even if it was not what I had intended. Maybe next time I go bass fishing I will catch a trout. - Robert Prytula |
|
| Last Updated ( Sunday, 12 November 2006 ) |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|