Some days I fish because I actually want to catch a boatload of trout (I know it’s getting bad when I find myself “air casting” on the drive to the river), and other days I fish because I need to get the hell out of the house and connect with something that isn’t a keyboard.
It’s a color riot right now – even in flat light.
The latter best describes Saturday’s venture, where I hiked down the river from Cantarra, despite reports suggesting other parts of the river were fishing better.
I didn’t need a boatload of fish, I just needed out, and whether the heebie-jeebies are the result of too much work-related angst, a long week of “business development” activities, or just too much Internet was unclear. I just wanted out.
The Escape
When it’s time to get lost in my fishing (as opposed to getting lost period, which happens a lot too), I instinctively head for pocket water, a wholly absorbing style of fishing that combines a sniper’s precision with the rough and tumble of a rugby scrum.
The fall color in the canyon is exceptional, and every bend in the river reveals something beautiful, odd or simply breathtaking.
Remember the pink grass from weeks ago? That clump is dead but I found this one just under the surface.
Less-than-breathtaking was the dry fly fishing, but there’s reward even in the getting the tough drifts right, and enough fish ate my October Caddis dry to keep it interesting.
In truth, it’s a little early for me to score heavy with the spent October Caddis; my best spent caddis days involve a canyon that’s already turned that post-fall, pre-winter shade of steely gray.
The scorecard shows five grabs and three landed – the last of which was a broad-shouldered 15″ fish that I hooked in my “big fish” stretch.
This is a largely innocent-looking stretch of water (don’t even ask) that’s reliable enough that I slow down, saunter a bit, and then look both ways before darting off the tracks and into the brush. (Always watch for a sauntering fly fisher. A too-casual saunter says a lot.)
The Geary Details
The gear-obsessed among my readers will no doubt be relieved to hear the following: I fished an 8′ 5wt Steffen Fiberglass rod that was just beautifully refinished by Rich Margiotta. It’s light enough in the tip section to cast nothing but a well-designed leader, but has enough in the tank to handle a decent fish.
This time of year can make for difficult equipment choices; I want to use a rod and leader that can handle everything from a #8 October Caddis dry to a #22 BWO – an uneasy compromise.
I’ve struck gold with Sully’s Big Bug leader (see the Underground Post about this remarkable leader design), which is a little longer than optimal for pocket water (10 feet), and a little shorter than I’d want for technical fishing, but it splits the difference so well (and turns over big bugs with remarkable aplomb) that it’s become my go-to hunk of terminal mono.
Coming Up
Next weekend will find Chris Raine’s rod shop overrun with bamboo rod builders courtesy the Great Western Bamboo Rod Gathering. While I’ll be driving up property values with my sporadic appearances at the festivities, I hope to get out and fish a little before then.
See you where the pink water grass grows, Tom Chandler.
[tags]pocket water[/tags]
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Tom,
Very nice photo of the “pink grass”. That “grass” just happens to be willow roots. When the Cantera Loop spill happened in 1991,the chemical that was released into the river killed all these roots. (The chemical that was released, metam sodium, is used commerically to kill roots that invade leach lines and septic tanks.)
Six weeks after the spill I waded the waters of the upper Sac looking for signs of revival. In addition to finding insect life under the river cobbles I overturned, these fresh new pink roots were everywhere.
The only plants that completely died from the spill were those that had their entire root systems chemically pruned by the metam sodium. Most of these were on sandbars or islands entirely surrounded by the river. And some of those only died back, then returned from tubers the next spring (such as Indian Rhubarb).
Nature is amazingly resilient. Yes, we lost natives but they have come back into the river from the tributaries and have far less competition from the squaw fish that were also killed in the spill. (There were huge squaw fish, 20+”, in the pools just up from Sims Campground. I’m glad they’re gone!)
Onward, Rose
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Thanks for the information about the roots. Interesting stuff.
As for the squawfish (which I think we’re calling “pikeminnows” now), that’s a tougher question.
I’d rather they didn’t move back upriver and hammer the juvenile trout population, but they’re a native species too.
Twice I’ve gone fishing for them with streamers and failed both times. The question is what to do with the things when you do catch one….
Anyone know how they tast?
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