Conan the Librarian
October 15th, 2003, 02:23 PM
I had started to post this about a recent trip of mine, but figured it
was sort of pointless until I was reading the thread about hatches and
such. WARNING: Long verbose ramblings ahead:
Short version: Caught some Guadalupe bass on a lovely crisp morning
on a Texas hill country stream. Saw a huge hatch, tried to match it
like you trout fisherpeople do, but the fish didn't really care. Did
some exploring, and found some water to return to in the future.
Long version: I was on the upper Guadalupe a couple of weeks ago.
This is a nice Texas hill country stream that gets stocked with trout
in the lower, tailwater stretches. The area where I was fishing is a
mix of some shallow boulder-strewn riffles and a series of
slower-moving deep pools surrounded by huge cypress trees. The fish
usually found here are Guadalupe bass (the Texas state fish; sort of
like a cross between a smallmouth and spotted bass, they live in
clear, clean, fast-moving water), various sunfishes, some channel
catfish, and an occasional largemouth.
I hit the water at about 8:00 on a clear ~50 degree morning, and
decided to do a little prospecting with some large dries with yellow
in them, since the hoppers have been really going strong lately (and
there were some already out on the banks even at this hour).
I was having fun just getting my casting stroke back (hadn't fished
since my trip to Montana in early Sepetember) and enjoying the morning
when some small fish started to rise alongside a partially submerged
rock.
I couldn't figure out what they were rising to, so I decided to
just take a shot with the fly I had on (#6 Madame X). The rock was
almost out of my casting range, and I had very little room to get the
fly to drift to the fish before it would start to get pulled around
the exposed portion of the rock. After coming up short a couple of
times, I got one perfect cast and immediately had a fish on.
It was about an 8" Guadalupe bass, and I admired him and sent him
back on his way. While I was de-sliming the fly (thanks to Willi for
recommending Frog's fanny; that stuff is fantastic), I looked back
against towards the sun and realized what had gotten the fish so fired
up. There was a hatch of a small grey-winged mayflies just beginning.
While I stood there and watched, the hatch intensified until they
were all over the water. Then dragonflies appeared and started
divebombing the water, while the fish continued their slashing rises.
I was so intrigued by the spectacle that I just stood and watched
for a while, almost forgetting what I was there for. ;-) I had never
witnessed anything like that on a Texas stream (or at least I had
never *noticed* it), and I was totally unprepared for it. I had
so-called "bass" flies in my boxes (buggers, streamers, some big
nymphs, plus a few hoppers and little deerhair frogs), so I knew there
was no chance that I had anything to match a size #16 mayfly. The
best I could manage was some #14 grey Wulffs which I had tied a couple
of days before and accidentally tossed in with my bass stuff.
I tied on one of those and cast to the fish, but it looked all
wrong on the water; much too bulky and heavily-dressed for what they
were feeding on. Then I rememebered that I had a couple of foam
dragonfly imitations tucked away somewhere. I had never had any luck
with them, but I figured they'd be worth a try under these conditions.
Nope, not even a look.
Finally, being the slow sort that I am, I remembered that I had
caught my first fish on a Madam X that had no resemblance to the
hatch. I tied on another one and managed to catch a few more fish
before I put them down/the hatch was finished. In retrospect, I think
they were reacting to the splat of the fly on the water; there were
quite a few fish in one area competing for the food that was suddenly
available to them. It may have been that the fly disturbed the water
in a similar manner to the other fish rising or the dragonflies
hitting the water, but for whatever reason, that fly worked.
I continued upstream after that, and spent some time working around
the cypress trees in the deeper pools with no luck. Casting was
tough; in most places I was reduced to roll-casting or just sort of
flipping a weighted nymph or bugger in among the cypress "knees".
A little further upstream the trees opened up as the river again
widened out; this stretch consisted of flat rock ledges with little
eddies on the downstream sides. It looked like the sort of water that
channel catfish would like, so maybe next time I'll take my spinning
gear and some worms with me. ;-)
Past this stretch the terrain got tougher, and there was a trail
leading up a cliff above the water. I decided to explore that
direction, as I could see that a good distance upriver there appeared
to be an island, or at least a long point. I hadn't gone 50 feet
before the trail basically disappeared. From the looks of things,
this area had not been traveled since the floods of last year, as the
footpath was totally obliterated by fallen trees and brush for long
sections before it would finally reappear out of the underbrush.
I just followed the river the best I could, watching for snakes at
the same time, as this looked to be primo snake country. It also has
little sinkholes, and the thick brush underfoot made it "interesting",
as you didn't really know if you would be stepping on solid ground or
not.
I finally broke through the brush just as the trail dead-ended
above a gorgeous little island with a logjam/eddy on the close bank
just below a very fast chute. This area just screamed "FISH" to me,
but I had a hell of a time trying to get a fly back into where I
suspect the fish would hold. And even when I managed to get a fly
down there, if I actually had a strike, I would have been doomed, as
the fish's first move would have probably had me hopelessly tangled in
brush and logs. From the looks of things, I could have fished that
spot better from out on the point of the island itself, but I'll
definitely need my chest-highs to get there. I'll definitely be back
to that spot.
Anyhow, family responsibilities called, so I started to hack my way
back out only to discover a trail a bit higher up that took me right
back to where I first hit the water. Much easier traveling, as the
trail was visible at all times. :-)
So I caught some fish, saw a huge hatch, enjoyed a gorgeous day,
had a good hike and found a new fishing spot. I've had worse days.
Chuck Vance
was sort of pointless until I was reading the thread about hatches and
such. WARNING: Long verbose ramblings ahead:
Short version: Caught some Guadalupe bass on a lovely crisp morning
on a Texas hill country stream. Saw a huge hatch, tried to match it
like you trout fisherpeople do, but the fish didn't really care. Did
some exploring, and found some water to return to in the future.
Long version: I was on the upper Guadalupe a couple of weeks ago.
This is a nice Texas hill country stream that gets stocked with trout
in the lower, tailwater stretches. The area where I was fishing is a
mix of some shallow boulder-strewn riffles and a series of
slower-moving deep pools surrounded by huge cypress trees. The fish
usually found here are Guadalupe bass (the Texas state fish; sort of
like a cross between a smallmouth and spotted bass, they live in
clear, clean, fast-moving water), various sunfishes, some channel
catfish, and an occasional largemouth.
I hit the water at about 8:00 on a clear ~50 degree morning, and
decided to do a little prospecting with some large dries with yellow
in them, since the hoppers have been really going strong lately (and
there were some already out on the banks even at this hour).
I was having fun just getting my casting stroke back (hadn't fished
since my trip to Montana in early Sepetember) and enjoying the morning
when some small fish started to rise alongside a partially submerged
rock.
I couldn't figure out what they were rising to, so I decided to
just take a shot with the fly I had on (#6 Madame X). The rock was
almost out of my casting range, and I had very little room to get the
fly to drift to the fish before it would start to get pulled around
the exposed portion of the rock. After coming up short a couple of
times, I got one perfect cast and immediately had a fish on.
It was about an 8" Guadalupe bass, and I admired him and sent him
back on his way. While I was de-sliming the fly (thanks to Willi for
recommending Frog's fanny; that stuff is fantastic), I looked back
against towards the sun and realized what had gotten the fish so fired
up. There was a hatch of a small grey-winged mayflies just beginning.
While I stood there and watched, the hatch intensified until they
were all over the water. Then dragonflies appeared and started
divebombing the water, while the fish continued their slashing rises.
I was so intrigued by the spectacle that I just stood and watched
for a while, almost forgetting what I was there for. ;-) I had never
witnessed anything like that on a Texas stream (or at least I had
never *noticed* it), and I was totally unprepared for it. I had
so-called "bass" flies in my boxes (buggers, streamers, some big
nymphs, plus a few hoppers and little deerhair frogs), so I knew there
was no chance that I had anything to match a size #16 mayfly. The
best I could manage was some #14 grey Wulffs which I had tied a couple
of days before and accidentally tossed in with my bass stuff.
I tied on one of those and cast to the fish, but it looked all
wrong on the water; much too bulky and heavily-dressed for what they
were feeding on. Then I rememebered that I had a couple of foam
dragonfly imitations tucked away somewhere. I had never had any luck
with them, but I figured they'd be worth a try under these conditions.
Nope, not even a look.
Finally, being the slow sort that I am, I remembered that I had
caught my first fish on a Madam X that had no resemblance to the
hatch. I tied on another one and managed to catch a few more fish
before I put them down/the hatch was finished. In retrospect, I think
they were reacting to the splat of the fly on the water; there were
quite a few fish in one area competing for the food that was suddenly
available to them. It may have been that the fly disturbed the water
in a similar manner to the other fish rising or the dragonflies
hitting the water, but for whatever reason, that fly worked.
I continued upstream after that, and spent some time working around
the cypress trees in the deeper pools with no luck. Casting was
tough; in most places I was reduced to roll-casting or just sort of
flipping a weighted nymph or bugger in among the cypress "knees".
A little further upstream the trees opened up as the river again
widened out; this stretch consisted of flat rock ledges with little
eddies on the downstream sides. It looked like the sort of water that
channel catfish would like, so maybe next time I'll take my spinning
gear and some worms with me. ;-)
Past this stretch the terrain got tougher, and there was a trail
leading up a cliff above the water. I decided to explore that
direction, as I could see that a good distance upriver there appeared
to be an island, or at least a long point. I hadn't gone 50 feet
before the trail basically disappeared. From the looks of things,
this area had not been traveled since the floods of last year, as the
footpath was totally obliterated by fallen trees and brush for long
sections before it would finally reappear out of the underbrush.
I just followed the river the best I could, watching for snakes at
the same time, as this looked to be primo snake country. It also has
little sinkholes, and the thick brush underfoot made it "interesting",
as you didn't really know if you would be stepping on solid ground or
not.
I finally broke through the brush just as the trail dead-ended
above a gorgeous little island with a logjam/eddy on the close bank
just below a very fast chute. This area just screamed "FISH" to me,
but I had a hell of a time trying to get a fly back into where I
suspect the fish would hold. And even when I managed to get a fly
down there, if I actually had a strike, I would have been doomed, as
the fish's first move would have probably had me hopelessly tangled in
brush and logs. From the looks of things, I could have fished that
spot better from out on the point of the island itself, but I'll
definitely need my chest-highs to get there. I'll definitely be back
to that spot.
Anyhow, family responsibilities called, so I started to hack my way
back out only to discover a trail a bit higher up that took me right
back to where I first hit the water. Much easier traveling, as the
trail was visible at all times. :-)
So I caught some fish, saw a huge hatch, enjoyed a gorgeous day,
had a good hike and found a new fishing spot. I've had worse days.
Chuck Vance