The Ephorons and Antaeus TR

For one reason and another I've been absent from the River for the
last month. This has not been good for my sanity. I find that, like
the mythical giant Antaeus, if I'm kept from contact with Nature for
any length of time I begin to weaken and die. Recently, I've had
several trouting trips planned that have fallen through at the last
instant. Also, I've been forced to work on the days that would be
excellent for fishing and been off work on days that would have been
wasted (as far as fish are concerned) standing up to my knees in River
water. This was having a negative effect on every aspect of my life.
Finally one aspect of my life ordered me out of the house and down to
the River. I suppose she thought that at least getting my grumpy self
out of her sight would be a relief and maybe it wouldn't but change
the nature of my own foul nature.

So I went down to the River. The Ephoron hatch has been late this
year. It was just getting started on the warmer waters of the
Wisconsin in early August. By mid August they were starting on the
lower, warmer stretches of the River but the upper waters were still
only hosting late Tricos and an occasional White Miller (with a dash
of BWOs thrown in for good measure). So I went prepared to fish over
what rises a dash of terrestrials mixed with a scoop of tiny mayflies
would bring me.

My first fly was a LeTort Cricket. But other than a few chubs it
floated past overhanging grasses and shadowy alder pockets untouched.
Next I put on a #14 Pass Lake. Just as I was tightening the knot I
noticed a splash at the foot of a weedy ripple. This was followed by
another and then by the sight of a big white mayfly lumbering along
with it's sub-imago shuck trailing behind it. But before I could
replace the Pass Lake I struck a fish. It came out of the cover of the
bankside shrubbery and nailed the little black fly as it drifted by. A
small fish, it was soon landed. At first I considered cutting off the
P.L. and tying on a Wulff but ,what the heck, I cast again and again
hooked another brookie. This one was smaller than the first and was
hooked deeply and bleeding from the gills. I should have kept him but
I honestly had no idea what the minimum legal length was nor did I
have anyway to measure him. So back he went, his fate out of my hands
and into that of the River's.

By now the Ephorons were hatching fast. And for some reason the little
Pass Lake kept taking fish, both on a dead drift and on the swing and
retrieve. Standing in one riffle, little over ankle deep, I proceeded
to take at least a dozen brook trout from about 8 to 12 inches long.
Finally the P.L. came from a fishes mouth unraveled and hopelessly
soggy. I replaced it with a fly that is part Usual and part CDC Elk.
In other words its body was made from a twisted CDC shaft and its wing
from white fur from a snowshoe hare's foot. This fly also took fish
although it seemed to be more attractive to chubs than the Pass Lake
had been. Looking downstream I saw the rise of a fish that seemed a
bit more robust than the ones I had been hooking. Edging down stream,
I draped a cast in front of an alder bough that was rocking in the
current. A splash and ... a big chub. Quickly removing him I cast
again and this time the flash of the striking fish had a satisfying
orange tinge to it. But it wasn't the bigger fish I was hoping for.

It should be mentioned that the River usually runs with its waters
stained a crystalline brown, a result of the tamaracks and spruce bogs
that feed its headwaters. But the water was now, in late Summer, low
and the clearest I'd ever seen it. I suppose its origins were now the
thirty miles of springs and seeps that lay above the stretch I was
fishing. For whatever reason the images of the fish fighting against
the pull of the line were instead of being hidden by the tinge of the
water, revealed by its transparency. So while to some the sight of a
fish rising up through the water column is no big deal, to me it was a
mesmerizing experience. Enough of one that I failed to connect with
more than one rise and splash.

The bigger fish failed to co-operate, although enough of his kin did
to make my Duck/Hare fly soggy and pathetic. Since it was starting to
get dark I hurriedly tied on a small White Wulff and slowly waded my
way back up through the 100 yards of riffled water I had fished
through the hour previous. The hatch was definitely tapering off but
the fish were still on the feed. Nothing huge came to hand but all
were brook trout and all, apparently, stream bred and born. At the top
of the riffle, in sight of the highway bridge there is a big pool. It
stretches down from a set of old pilings that mark the sight of an old
railroad bridge that served the saw mill that formed the nucleus of
the town that formerly stood where now there are only hayfields and
woodlots. That pool has always looked inviting, looked like big fish
water. But in the 15 years I've fished it I can't remember ever taking
a trout or even many rough fish from its still water.

There were a few small rises marking the pool's surface as I waded
into it. I cast to one and a small brook trout took it and was
released. Unhooking the little fish I glanced up and at the head of
the pool saw a wallowing rise, making waves big enough to hear
slapping the shore on either side of the creek. A big fish, ahuge
fish, a massive fish! I stood still... waiting for another rise.
Nothing happened. Finally I edged closer and sent the Wulff up above
the pilings. It drifted through the slot where the massive fish had
risen. It turned and twisted on the current. Nothing. Another cast.
Nothing. After a dozen casts I moved to a new position and cast some
more. But the big fish failed to show again. It was getting seriously
dark now. Up above I could still make out where smaller fish were
rising and, eventually giving over to their enticements, I waded up
and through the big fish's holding water and fished the weeded runs up
above. A few more small fish rewarded me. But that was all.

I am not a big fish fisherman. I like to catch fish, not hunt for one
particular one. But I had never seen a fish that size in the River
before. So by the feeble light of a pinch light held clenched between
my teeth I tied on a big white wet fly and cautiously waded down to
the head of the railroad pool.

It is September now. The languid sunsets of the northern mid summer
are gone. No faint twilight at 1030 PM. When the sun falls it takes a
course perpendicular to the horizon and its afterglow is tropically
short. So my fishing was by sound and feel. I cast the wet, listening
for the tell tale whine of a tangled leader as it shot past my head. I
slowly twist-retrieved the fly, my fingertips alert for the small tug
of the big trout. Finally I felt a taptap and set the hook.. and a
foot long trout slid across the surface of the pool to lay at my
wader's knees, swaying in the current in the beam of my tiny
flashlight. After a few more casts another pull and a twin to the
first brook trout wriggled its way towards me. And then it was cast
after cast. Finally the whine came... as I knew it would... and my
fingers felt along the leader to the knotted mess I knew they'd find.
The big fish hadn't shown himself since that one rise and for all I
knew he was lodged safely under a waterlogged plank digesting a chub
or one of his great-great grandchildren. So I waded back to the car,
unstrung the rod and drove home, Antaeus reborn.

hth

g.c.

George,
What a wonderful TR!
Tom

George,
What a wonderful TR!
Tom

George,
What a wonderful TR!
Tom

George Cleveland wrote in
:

For one reason and another I've been absent from the River for the
snip

Lovely.

Thanks.

George Cleveland wrote in
:

For one reason and another I've been absent from the River for the
snip

Lovely.

Thanks.

George Cleveland wrote in message . ..

SNIP

So I waded back to the car,
unstrung the rod and drove home, Antaeus reborn.

hth

g.c.

That was excellent. Thanks for posting it.

Steve

George Cleveland wrote in message . ..

SNIP

So I waded back to the car,
unstrung the rod and drove home, Antaeus reborn.

hth

g.c.

That was excellent. Thanks for posting it.

Steve

George Cleveland wrote:
For one reason and another I've been absent from the River for the
last month.
snip

That was great fun. Thanks, George.
--
TL,
Tim
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj

George Cleveland wrote:
For one reason and another I've been absent from the River for the
last month.
snip

That was great fun. Thanks, George.
--
TL,
Tim
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj