No. 1 daughter and the missus was heading out today to wreck our
credit cards so I headed to the river.

Was supposed to go to the Maitland but I couldn't face the drive so it
was back to zooland at Caledonia. The big problem with the Caledonia
zoo is also a blessing of sorts. Almost all of the fish are jammed up
at the dam, so are all the fishermen/women. This puts 98% of the
angling population into 2% of the river. So far so good. However,
finding fish in the rest of the river is *&^$^%$ of a challenge. Upon
seeing the zoo, I took up the challenge.

Didn't park by the dam, but instead at a little parkette with benches
and lamp posts and all the other acutrements of a town council with
money to spend and no constructive idea of what to do with it. The
water in front of me looks horribly unproductive. It's a long, wide,
almost featureless expanse of river. Any steelheader worthy of the
name would tromp right by it. Since I am not worthy, I fished it.

Wind. Did I tell you about the wind? I'm beginning to feel like I
fish at Portage and Main (a Canuckistanni thing, you wouldn't
understand). Last week, the water was pretty warm and I was
comfortable. This week, I'm wearing the same stuff and I'm freezing
my nuts off. Very specifucally my nuts, as I'm crotch deep all day.
The water levels are up.

I'm out with the 13'6" 9 wt. Daiwa, tossing an 8/9 Delta Long that
I've cut and looped to take Windcutter 15' tips. I start with the
T-6. On goes a little, yet-to-be-named, purple spey. It's never
caught anything but what the hell, eh? There's always a first time.

After a while of hitting rocks and scooping weeds. KABAMM! Big hit.
Fish on-fish off. Don't I hate frigin' clapper fish. Check hook
(should've done that a few rocks ago). Dull point. Back to the car
for the pocket hone stone.

Fish some more. Snag. Nope, weeds. Nope, it's moving. Barely.
Start reeling and up comes a 12" PICKEREL! (ya, OK, walleye). At
least there's no skunking this time, though one might term this a
skunkling.

Change up to another yet-to-be-named spey fly that I had tied to
practice the old fashioned way of tying spey flies. Swing, swing,
swing. About ready to quit when there's weiight. Snag? Nope, big
swirl. Rocks don't swirl (I'm clever that way). Decent fish, plenty
of weight, Finally a chromer to call my own. A chromer I can play
with. Ooops, gone. Don't know about you but a LDR is like sex
without the finish. Anyway. methinks this fish fought wrong.
methinks it was a big pickerel (ya, OK, walleye). Figures, can't
catch one for over 15 years of fly flinging, now they won't leave my
hooks alone.

Oh, ya. Last weekend, I went to Wilks dam and didn't catch anything,
not even a cold. Guess where all the fish were? Caledonia. Guess
were they're probably at today?



Peter

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