I avoid crowds on fly fishing trips the way some people avoid taxes, and that’s not exactly a secret to the Undergrounders.
And while the participants in the excerpted (and intriguingly written) Boston Globe story seem to enjoy the camaraderie, an opening day like the one described – complete with truckloads of stocked fish jammed into small area being fished for by truckloads of anglers (jammed into a small area) – sounds a lot like one of the seven circles of hell:
Just before 6, a handful of latecomers scamper down the river banks trying to squeeze in with the elbow-to-elbow anglers. They are met with glares and sarcasm.
At the top of the hour, the fire siren wails, signaling the start of the derby. Before the single blast ends, there will be several trout hooked; that is guaranteed. The river is stocked to the gills by the state and the local merchants – 400,000 fish statewide and roughly 100 more by the merchants. The fish are hungry. They are well-fed at trout farms and then released into the wa ters, in some cases just days before the April 18 opening.
The scene is surreal. Fishermen line up on the rocky banks of the river, facing their fellow anglers, sporting waders in the river, 20 yards away. If they were wielding muskets instead of fishing rods, it would look like a Revolutionary War battle.
Surreal describes it, though I may have been a bit harsh in describing this as one of the circles of hell. It’s more social event than solitary fishing getaway, and one interviewee after conjures up the memories of openers past – usually involving friends or family – and not big fish.
Still, it’s hard to ignore passages like:
The tie-ups never lead to fisticuffs, fishermen say. But sometimes they try a person’s patience. Keith Szmajlo is standing knee-deep in the river, casting into a watery hole. Across the banks, a man with no sense of etiquette is casting into everything but fish. After several tangled lines, Szmajlo talks politely to him through clenched teeth, before being forced to move on.“People who can’t fish shouldn’t be using lures,” he says. “He snagged me once in the boot and my buddy once in the neck.
“Still, I look forward to this all year. It’s a great day.”
I’m curious. Have the Undergrounders squirreled away memories of scenes like the above – memories they enjoy and cherish?
See you on an uncrowded stream somewhere, Tom Chandler.
Sounds peaceful…The only good memories I have of the opening day elbow grease is when I was a kid spin casting in Missouri. As a kid, it was fun just to be catching anything. These days, I would rather hike 1-2 miles to be in solitude.
Mid TN Lee(Quote)
UGH..with a capitol u. Unfortunately for many folks that is all they know. I now relieze why I drive 5/6 hours to fish a certain place.
samistopdog(Quote)
That scene brings back memories of the Beaverkill in Catskill Mountains every Saturday and Sunday.
Tony(Quote)
I’d just make the most of it when my son wanted to catch, not just fish. We’d head to a larger (stocked) creek on the Westside of the Sierras. I’d wade across, leaving other fishermen stranded on the opposite bank. The fish often run deep here and I’d have to dredge ‘em up with nymphs just as deep. After hooking a fish, worm-dunkers who
look like perpssuitable for a starring role in a trailer park episode of “COPS†would horn in on my hole. I’d watch them unsuccessfully flog that hole, then I’d move downstream five feet, hook another fish, and watch them follow. I’d chuckle quietly and repeat as desired. (I actually favor a small quiet stream above 5,000 feet.)Patrick K.(Quote)
I guess that’s a perk of being from and fishing in Northern Maine, everywhere I go is peaceful and out of the way. I guess something like that just begs the question “Why do you love to fish?” For most of us here that frequent The Underground, I feel like it goes far beyond just catching fish.
Benjamin Rioux(Quote)
In a situation like this, the people who show up know what they are in for before they pack the truck. They understand that they are going to be fighting for space and untangling misplaced casts from other anglers all day. I would probably get a kick out of just standing on the banks and watching all those nutballs go Rodney King on that river for hours, and I may even join in if a spot opened up. I imagine it would be like being at a fishing keg party.
On the other hand, hell would be if one weren’t mentally prepared for this kind of tomfoolery. It would be safe to say that most fly fishermen would have a brain aneurysm at the sight of their favorite little stream being smothered by shoulder to shoulder stringer equipped bait chuckers.
But if it came down to lure-to-fly combat, a castmaster thrown from a spinning reel may have a distance advantage over a 5 weight, but some machine gun false casting action with a very large stimulator would send many a bait fisherman running for the trees.
Fat Guy Alex(Quote)
I have nothing to say….I would rather ….Well, I would stay home if that was what I could look forward too as an opening day experience….
Brett from Utah(Quote)
What a nightmare. I mean, I understand why people who have never fished before might enjoy it. But it seems like fishing at a hatchery to me. In fact, that is exactly what it is. Just that the raceways look a little more natural.
yoyoman(Quote)
sounds a bit like the Power House Riffle… without the stocked fish.
Bjorn(Quote)
This is definitely the scene in Southeastern PA. Alas, if you must fish the trout opener, there’s no getting around it. All you can do is put aside your pretentiousness and grab some *gasp* spinning gear. When in Rome…
Watching the flotilla of Powerbait nuggets and staging a triage area for children in the crossfire (typically shrapnel wounds due to poorly cast spinners) usually makes for some good war stories.
Wait until the next weekend to break out the 5wt – the hooligans will have forgotten fishing and moved on to something else…
troutrageous1(Quote)
Crowds on ANY weekend are contrary to why I want to go fishing.
That’s why I spent a more-or-less peaceful opening weekend fishing with Singlebarbed where a fussilade of bullets were more of a concern than furious flying fishhooks.
http://sanddollaradventures.wordpress.com/2009/04/29/the-great-fishless-fish-safari-part-ii-never-bring-a-fly-rod-to-a-gunfight/
A. Wannabe Travelwriter(Quote)
My mother-in-law sent this to me a couple days ago. There’s actually a really nice bit at the end that is probably more in line with the typical Undergrounder’s vision of what opening day should be.
In the context of the full article, the author is subtle enough here to leave you wondering if Mr. Sklenka is “the biggest winner” because he caught the largest fish or for quite another reason altogether. I know what I think.
MHH(Quote)
That would have been my guess too.
Tom Chandler(Quote)
I remember going to Lake Merced in San Francisco in the late 50′s with my father. I can’t remember if we caught anything (probably not), but I do remember that it was a zoo. Looking back, it’s a fond mamory.
Bill Markwood(Quote)