When Chrome Turns to Brown

January, ironically, brings back memories from a trip taken north to pursue a fish that turns fingers, toes, and river banks to ice. It was January 25th, 2001, and a good fishing buddy of mine, Ed Roden, and I had decided to try a new river for the pursuit of steelhead. Steelhead is a strain of rainbow trout that are spawned in the river, then run to the lake to eat until fat and ready to contribute to the reproductive cycle in the same river they were created in.

Ed and I normally would atleast fish together for two days on a steelhead trip since the hook up rate is lower than warmer weather trout fishing. However, he and I both had other obligations to attend to during the week so one day was the only possible plan. The air temperature was 28 deg F, and the water measured 38 deg F. The Rogue River (near Grand Rapids, Michigan) was so cold that day that as snow fell, each flake upon landing on the river would turn the surrounding water to ice. Unfortunately for me, the 3mm neoprene waders I wore had developed a small gap along the stocking foot seam, and decided to make itself known for the first time on the coldest day I had ever entered a stream. At one point, I couldn’t feel my right foot any longer, so I climbed out of the river onto the bank, removed the waders and rubbed my toes until the blood circulated pain throughout my entire lower leg. There’s nothing like putting a cold wet wool sock and waders back on, knowing full well how cold I would be in another hour or so. This time, I didn’t wade so deep into the river so to reduce the pressure the water was previously applying to my foot and thus reducing the circulation. It seemed to help.

When steelhead fishing, I like to find a pool near a riffle to cast in. Steelhead like to stack up in these pools and have access to the riffles for spawning. I prefer being thorough when fishing and so when there is high potential for fish residing in good habitat, I give it every chance to produce. When fishing a pool, I prefer to use a sinking leader without a strike indicator, cast, mend line upstream, and then keep a tight line all the while making a dead drift. I’ve found that casting two flies for steelhead on one line increase the chances of a hook up. In my opinion, threading the tippet of the second fly through the eye of the first gives a more natural presentation to that of the first fly.

I casted for an hour into the pool at different lengths to cover the entire width of the river. Admittedly, it was probably overkill, but there was another angler upstream of me and I wasn’t about to give the pool away to anyone but Ed. Eventually, I started to get cold again, so decided to give it a couple more casts and call it a day. The afternoon was getting long and it had been a very slow day of fishing. By the time an hour went by, I knew every little movement the fly line would take on its’ course through the gentle currents of the pool. On the last cast I would end up taking for the day, the fly line decided to take a slow and unusual subtle turn toward the outside of the path it should have taken. Realizing this might be a fish, I reacted with a downstream hook set and low and behold a fish had eaten the estaz egg fly! I could tell the fish was solid, but it didn’t take off like a steelhead normally would. It also stayed low, pulling hard and taking me out of the pool downstream into the riffle. Staying below the fish this time to reduce pressure on the line was impossible as the boulders were unevenly distributed on the river’s bottom, creating a trip hazard with each step taken. So after a few moments of nervously getting into a position to where I could confidently stand, focus shifted to not losing the fish amongst the large boulders. Fortunately, Ed had taken notice of the situation and asked me if he could help net the fish. A couple minutes later the tired fish rested in Ed’s net. The strangely colored tan fish measured 23″, and the more we looked at it the more the fish resembled a brown trout rather than a chrome colored steelhead. After releasing the beautiful brown trout, I was amazed that on a cold, snowy, January day in 38 degree F water temperature, my personal best brown trout came to hand.

The Orange Estaz Egg Fly. I tie it with a tuft of white yarn (yolk) and krystal flash tail, representing a “fish wriggler”, or in other words a fish that has not yet absorbed its’ yolk. This pattern, I have found, produces better than the traditional egg pattern.

The following website provides a recipe for this fly. The fly was originated by Chuck Hawkins, owner of fly fishing guide business Hawkins Outfitters in Traverse City, MI.
http://www.flymartonline.com/article128.html

Sharing my Experiences with Anglershare

Through the years, I’ve had the opportunity to fish some amazing locations. A friend of mine, Jameson Redding, has developed a website where all of us can share our fishing experiences, locations, and pictures of these trips.

I am excited to share with you to start with, 14 of my favorite locations to fish in the United States. Some are well known destinations, and some are hidden gems. I will be using this tool in the future to share more areas that I’ve visited in the past as well as new found favorites of the future, so check back often. You don’t have to register to view the spots, but I hope you will so that I can learn from your experiences of fishing and expand our boundaries of opportunities! So, begin by clicking the link below and enjoy my stories, tips, as well as learning from others previously posted on the map. You can find mine that are posted by “icastinayak”.

http://www.anglershare.com/map

Fly Fishing the Smoky Mountain National Park

Sometimes beauty can’t be expressed into words. Last week I fished a headwater tributary of the Little River watershed in the Smoky Mountain National Park. My father fished with me and we have a long history of going on outdoor adventures together. The hike alone reminded me of times when we spent days searching for hunting spots in the high bluffs of upper Michigan. We were in search of a restored Brook Trout stream recommended by Chris of the local Orvis fly fishing shop. I estimated the hike was about a mile from the trailhead we started on. The water we passed on the way was tempting to stop and fish in, but the objective for the day was to fish pocket water for native Brookies. The stream and trail veered away from one another for a short distance before we reached what we thought was our destination.

The headwater tributary of the Little River watershed we fished

We fished the pools below water plunging from boulders, and by 9:30AM there was evidence of mayfly activity, leading into sightings of grasshoppers on the high banks. Fishing this stream was more about staying upright, sneaking up on fishy looking pockets of water, and taking in the sights. I did manage to hook and land one trout during the morning. We were seeking Brook Trout, but a Rainbow Trout came to hand. I was surprised to see a rainbow as I was expecting a brookie, so this began to make me wonder if we actually found the correct stream. I caught the rainbow with a number 14 beadhead Hare’s Ear nymph dropper. Once home, I explored maps and a couple resources on the trail and it does seem we might have hiked twice as far as where the Brook Trout stream branched off from the mainstream of the tributary. We were likely one half mile upstream of where we had intended to fish.

Underwater shot of the 8″ Rainbow Trout caught with a Hare’s Ear Nymph in the Smoky Mountain National Park. The average size of a rainbow trout in the park is 6-10 inches.

There’s always something that draws a fisherman back to a stream. This time for me, it’s an opportunity to actually find that Brook Trout stream and enjoy the canopy of green with a special fishing partner.

My dad, Paul Rubel, casting among boulders, Rhododendron, and trout waters

Smallmouth Bass in Mountains of Virginia

Photograph by: Jameson Redding, Anger: Aaron Rubel

My roots in fly fishing go back to days wading within well-structured banks swept with cool flowing water. I have no idea why rivers energize me, but even after a week of only 20 hours of sleep, a day on a mountain river in Virginia expunged every bit of stress in my body.

I have learned that some of the very best days of fishing on a river nearly always occur on cloudy days. I have also learned that there is something about friendships introduced around water and fish. The morning started early as Jameson and I met at 5:30AM for a day of fishing. When we arrived at the river, there were fish actively feeding, and the sunrise combined with just the right amount of fog reminded me of why the Blue Ridge Mountains are so appropriately named.

If there’s one thing that is the same about every fishing trip, there’s always a surprise that ends up making the day memorable. After casting from a bolder into a promising corner structure, we decided to move on after only catching one small spotted bass. Moving on gracefully in a kayak sometimes turns into begging for some mercy. After placing my fly rod in the kayak, I leaned over to sit on the water craft, but my foot was not firmly planted as moss was growing on the aggressively angled rock ledge. In certain circumstances, there comes a point when time stands still and you know there’s no going back. A choice must be made and made in that moment with no hesitation. I only had one option to keep from swimming, and that was to lunge for my kayak as it slid away from the bank. When I lunged off the ledge, I was certain the kayak would capsize and my fly rods would be at the bottom of the river (seven feet deep at this point). Well, thank the Lord I didn’t lose a single piece of gear, wasn’t impaled by a hook, and I stayed on top of the kayak albeit refreshingly wet!

The fishing picked up around 9:00AM, maybe not so coincidently in sync with clouds that moved in. I’ve learned that smallmouth like top water flies, and big ones. This knowledge is thanks to a guide I’ve spent some time on the water with in Michigan named Jon Ray as well as reading the book, “Smallmouth Fly Fishing”, written by well-known author Tim Holschlag. I came armed with an 8wt and 10wt rod. The ten weight might seem overkill, but I subscribe to selecting a rod for the day that efficiently casts the size of flies I intend to throw rather than choosing a rod solely for the size of fish I am targeting. Anyway, smallmouth fight hard which raises the bar compared to any other freshwater fish of the same size.

Smallmouth bass flies of choice for the day

On our way upstream earlier in the morning, I noticed a deep trough on the inside of the river that spanned thirty yards across by one hundred yards long. My Maui Jim Ho’okipa’s with rose lenses enabled me to see detail that consisted of a deep and relatively narrow finger within the width of the river and adjacent shallows on all sides. On my second or third cast into the head of the pool as I drifted downstream, a smallmouth rolled my fly but the hook set wasn’t successful. I didn’t have to wait long for another chance as about ten casts later, another smallmouth rolled on the black and red popper fly and this time my rod bowed and it was game on! During the fight, the three plus pound smallmouth leaped out of the water, exposing just how fat he was and made some strong runs. I knew I needed to get downstream of him if I had a chance to land him. Well, as soon as I successfully negotiated getting downstream to gain leverage, the bronzeback ran under a rock ledge and anchored in with current pushing between him and the underside of the large rock structure. I was able to reel down to where the leader and fly line met my rod, and Jameson came over to lend assistance by sliding his hand down the leader and bringing to hand the 18 inch Virginia smallmouth bass.

Aaron Rubel with an 18 inch Virginia smallmouth bass

Photography: Jameson Redding of http://www.anglershare.com/

I so enjoyed the day, both fishing in the river and at a pond that was literally on top of a mountain. In addition to the smallmouth we caught on the river, we landed ridiculously large bluegill that afternoon on the pond and some largemouth bass too. In all, we caught and released four species of fish and I look forward to hosting Jameson to some coastal Alabama fishing in the future.

Smallmouth being released, Photography: Jameson Redding

A Poor Man’s Tarpon Is My Treasure…A World Record?

Saturday began as a special morning as I had the opportunity to take five of my friends out fishing, of which four had not done so from a kayak yet. The weather was sketchy at best as severe thunderstorms had been rolling through our Gulf Coast communities all week at various times of the day. Strategically, we decided to launch our kayaks at dawn within some waters protected from the west winds with access to a small bay. I was excited to share my sport with some good friends, but also it was the first fishing outing in my new kayak, the Hobie Pro Angler 12 recently released.

The fishing picked up around 7:00AM and by end of the morning between the six of us, we had caught seven species of fish, including flounder and speckled trout. The weather remained cloudy and although there was wind, it was manageable.

I was fly fishing, as I nearly always do. Reading the maps prior to the outing I noticed a drop off just beyond the piers that lined the shore, and made a mental note that I would fish this transition during the tide movement that morning near an inlet. I normally carry three fly rods on my kayak, so to be rigged with different fly patterns tied to a 6wt, 8wt, and 10wt rod. Between the three different options, I am ready for wind or finesse, whatever may be required for the situation.

At 7:30AM, I missed a good fish that only remained on for a second. Picking the floating line off the water, I made one false cast and delivered the olive and white clouser minnow fly right back where I had the first bite. As soon as I started the retrieval, a large fish crashed my fly just beneath the surface and made a strong run. I keep my drag relatively light after losing a fish last year when it was too tight. This time it was too loose and the force of the first run spun the reel faster than the line was running out and tangled my line inside the reel. While stripping to clear the tangle, I had to maintain focus on keeping leverage on the fish as it was now swimming back toward my kayak. During the next couple of runs, the fish ended up stripping all 105 feet of fly line off my reel to the backing. As I gained ground on the nice ladyfish, I remembered something told to my friends as we launched. I had misplaced my net that morning in the garage and with tongue in cheek I told them that I hoped I didn’t catch a large fish for fear of losing it in attempting to land it by hand. The fight came to a close after ten or so leaps into the air, a few strong runs, and a ten minute battle. The ladyfish was ready for landing once brought to the side of my new PA12.

Angler: Aaron Rubel
Photo by Matt Jones

Ladyfish are not a prime target species in the region of the Gulf Coast. They are known as poor man’s tarpon around these parts, but I really enjoy the sport of catching a ladyfish on a fly rod. Never before had I caught a 24.25 inch ladyfish, and so my friend Matt Jones was gracious enough to take time out of his fishing to snap a photo of the nice catch, and the first fish brought to hand in my new kayak! I measured it and took a photo to capture my personal best of this particular species caught on a fly.

What I didn’t realize was this turned out to be not just my personal best ladyfish on a fly, but it measures longer than the IGFA All Tackle World Record Length category for a ladyfish! I learned this upon doing some research once home after a friend asked what the Alabama state record was. Most records are measured in pounds, but this particular world record category for catch and release angling is measured in length.
Today, after some correspondence with the nice folks at the IGFA, I was informed that indeed the ladyfish I caught was longer than the current world record by 1.42 inches! My nearly uncontainable excitement tempered a bit when the gentleman followed that up by saying they were very sorry to have to inform me that the world record class fish of its’ species would not in the end qualify due to a technicality. I have not really ever thought through the remote possibility of catching a world record fish. Therefore, my measuring device, although a certified scale for tournaments I compete in, is not the official IGFA measuring device required for documenting a world record catch. Ugh.
Yes, I am extremely disappointed to not officially be able to claim an all tackle world record of catching this ladyfish by method of a fly, but as a friend told me today, “That’s fishing!” And so, a poor man’s tarpon will forever be a treasured memory for me, and a story that I will surely share into the future with family, friends, and fishing buddies.

Note: Thank you to Kayak Angler Magazine for interest in publishing the story on their website on July 31, 2012.

A Look Back

This week my wife encouraged me to start a blog about the fishing adventures I seek and related topics associated with my obsession. So where do I start? Well, I guess it has to begin at the origin, which points to my family. From a young age, my father took me into the woods and taught me valuable lessons about nature and wildlife. Fast forwarding to the present, I am grateful for my wife who not only supports my love of water and wilderness, but encourages me to keep exploring. For me, launching my kayak into the currents of a tide, wading a cold flowing stream, or hiking through a quiet hemlock forest is refreshing after spending most waking hours viewing the world from the confines of sixteen square feet.

I write this initial entry from the Eastern Shore community of Mobile Bay in Daphne, AL which we have made home. I was raised far north of here in the small town of Reading, Michigan where I would race to get my homework done in order to explore the woods of the farm before sunset. Even after moving to the metropolitan area of Detroit in my mid-teens, some of my fondest memories go back to cool crisp Saturdays riding back with my father from the state game area as we listened to the college football game on “The Great Voice of the Great Lakes” 760 WJR, or times when we ventured to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for a week of exploration and hunting. I now hope to pass on some of these discoveries and make new ones with my two sons.

Whether ten or 10,000 readers follow these stories of the past and new adventures found, I hope some of my entries may encourage others to not only seek the experience of the out of doors themselves, but also share it with the next generation.

I Cast In a Yak

by Aaron Rubel about Adventures in Kayak Fishing and Fly Fishing