Nat Greene Flyfishers    April 2010

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Board Of Directors election to be conducted on April 13, 2010.

Our board consists of three elected Directors (staggered three year terms), three elected Officers (President, Vice President and Secretary/Treasurer), elected annually by consensus, and immediate past president.  We will be voting on the following at the April meeting:

Please consider helping your club by volunteering to serve in one of the open board positions as either Vice President or as a Director.

Lynn Roloff

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Techniques for Mountain Trout

Although most of you know me as a fisherman willingly to chase anything that will eat a fly, I began my fly fishing career as a trout fisherman. Having spent about eighteen years pursuing trout in the mountain streams of North Carolina, I’ve come to a few conclusions about this aspect of the sport. It’s not as complicated as you might think. This month I will present my thoughts on how to catch mountain trout. There are only a few things you have to pay attention to. Mark your calendars and join me for an enjoyable evening on Tuesday, May 11.

I enjoy catching many kinds of fish on a fly rod. Although springtime usually means shad and stripers, this year’s high water may preclude any fishing down east. I’ve passed many pleasant evenings this past winter pouring over Jim Casada’s new book and this has re-kindled the desire to chase mountain trout. I also spent some time putting an outfit together specifically for mountain trout. It’s rather minimal compared to the portable tackle shop I usually haul around. I’m pleased with what I’ve come up with so I wanted to share it with you. I’ve also described some of my techniques. Enjoy.

First, take care in your appearance. Dress to disappear. Wear a hat and shirt that are olive or camo. If you must wear a vest, make it olive. The amount of gear is minimal so I prefer a fanny pack over a vest. Always wear polarized sunglasses with amber lenses. They let you see the fish before you cast. You can also scan the bottom before taking a step. I always wade with a wading staff; this habit has saved me from slipping and falling many times. Your clothing below the waist doesn’t matter too much but I recommend olive or other dark color, like blue jeans. I wear hip boots with felt soles or hiking boots depending on the stream. Finally, I always wear soft knee pads because much of my fishing is carried out from a kneeling position.

Second, no matter how long your preferred rod length, your casts will be short. Most casts generally involve not more than four to five feet of line plus the leader. You must be certain your leader performs well because many casts include no line at all, merely flicking your wrist to send the leader and fly into a tight spot. False casting is an absolute no-no. Passing the line over the water you intend to fish is an excellent way to frighten the spots off every fish in the stream. Deliver the fly with the line you have; you can strip off more and toss that on the next cast.

Third, remember you are trying to catch a wild animal that doesn’t want to play your game. Fish are constantly swimming and, therefore, burning calories. They must replace them and will do so unless frightened. Security trumps hunger. So take extra care to stay out of sight. This is where the hunting aspect of the sport comes in. Use rocks and trees as cover to sneak up on a pool and scan it well before you cast. When you do cast, stay low and out of sight, and in the shade if possible. Being stealthy earns you more fish than a $600 fly rod.

Trout in a mountain pool maintain a pecking order. The best fish are usually where the stream is narrowest. This simplifies the search for food because the drift is concentrated. The biggest fish is usually at the head of the pool where the water pours in. This position gives him first shot at anything edible. The second best spot is where the stream narrows just before exiting the pool. Look for a fish in the shallow water just above the tailout, they are frequently visible. This gives you an eager but nervous target. I cast to the near side of the fish to avoid laying the leader over him. Don’t be afraid to lay the leader over rocks or logs to place the fly just so, they are a great help in preventing drag.

When you locate a fish, take the opportunity to study him (your polarized sunglasses pay for themselves here!). You can learn more from a fish than reading a library. See how he holds behind a break in the current, however subtle. Notice if he moves to the left or right to suck something in as well as whether he’s feeding on top or underneath. Watch to see if he actively chases his prey, like a caddis pupa, or gently inhales something, like a helpless ant. In particular, watch how quickly he samples and rejects an undesirable food item. I’ve watched fish eat sticks and cigarette butts. Once I watched a fish move to his left, close his mouth down on something and grind his jaws back and forth on the morsel. He finally spat the thing out. Only then did my leader twitch.

Fourth, altogether too much ink has been devoted to fly patterns for mountain trout. These fish are opportunistic feeders, meaning they will sample anything the current serves up unless they are alarmed. So use whatever you like. Some people use nothing but a Royal Wulff. My preferences in dries lean to large, yellowish flies. I usually release my fish and a large hook, like a twelve, makes it easier. As to color, the yellow stoneflies, which start emerging around mid-May, are so important to the fish they seem to prefer anything yellow. I like a parachute Adams with a pale yellow body (equal parts bright yellow and white dubbing). I also use a Wulff-style Light Cahill with a white poly wing. The simplest dry of all is the Yellow Palmer: a grizzly or light ginger hackle palmered over a yellow body.

If not yellow, I go to black: the color of ants and beetles. I use both wet and dry ants. A number 14 can be fished alone or as a dropper. Beetles can provide fun fishing because the fish don’t fool with such large chunks of protein. Though less durable than foam-based flies, I prefer a simple Crowe beetle made of black deer because of the “plop” it makes when it hits the water. It must mimic a trout’s dinner bell because they make a beeline for it.

If you fish a dropper, I suggest an all-everything emerger like the Holy Grail in a 14 or 16 or a beadhead nymph like a Prince or Hare’s Ear. My leaders aren’t longer than nine feet. I use a tippet commensurate to the size of the fly. Some fisherman recommend only very fine tippets, like 6X or smaller, but my experience says 5X or even 4X works fine. A drag-free drift is more important than using the finest tippet you can get away with.

Finally, you’ll need just a few accessories. An extra leader and some tippet material are musts. A clipper with a needle to clear the cement out of hook eyes is handy. Some kind of fly floatant is needed to dress your dries. If you use a pair of forceps to remove hooks, get one that doesn’t reflect light, or clip it to the inside of your shirt. The final, and surprisingly rare, accessory is a hook hone. If you drag a hook point across your thumb nail and it slides off, the point needs sharpening. Once you realize how fast a fish can eject a fly you’ll appreciate the benefit of a very sharp point.

There you have it. It’s a bit wordier than I expected, but there are only a few things to remember. Dress to blend in and stay low and out of sight. Work from the shade and avoid rod movements in bright sunlight. Use a staff to help you wade carefully and safely. Sneak around like your life depended on it. Identify a target and make short, accurate casts. Carry a minimal number of flies and concentrate on your presentation. That’s it! Now that you have this acquired knowledge, go forth and have a good time. Remember to take pictures and remove any litter you might come across. And one more thing. Don’t tell me where you fish. I might write about it.

Jim Brady

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Nary a Fish

I have been so squirrelly about not having fished lately that I convinced Dick Feulner to participate in a great adventure chasing shad along the Neuse River. The water is so high on the Roanoke River I researched other possible sites on NC Waterman. I posted an inquiry and received several positive replies about the Neuse. I checked out several launching sites on Google Earth and Dick called the Neuse River Sport Shop in Kinston. You would think all this preparation would bode well for us. It didn’t.

Our day began on Saturday the 27th by blowing several fuses in Dick’s Jeep. He hooked up my boat trailer light connector and immediately knocked out his headlights. It only took a few minutes to realize one wire from my trailer connector had come loose and grounded out. A few minutes later we hit the road with an oversize fuse “protecting” his headlight circuit.

We drove about two and a half hours down I-40 around Raleigh to Rte. 70 east, looking for the metropolis of Princeton, not known for its Ivy League university. I didn’t realize we had entered Princeton until we left. We turned around and wound our way down a lazy country road. The entrance to the boat ramp was so cleverly disguised around a blind curve we initially missed it. The ramp was in considerable disrepair compared to the near pristine image on Google Earth. After a cursory inspection, we passed on it. The Neuse itself was a deep brown in color and opaque.

The next ramp downstream was south of Goldsboro. We drove through a poor countryside that occasionally sprouted expensive, ostentatious brick homes virtually in the middle of nowhere. Considering real estate has something to do with ‘location, location, location’ why anyone would build such structures escaped us. We made our way to the south side of Goldsboro only to find the boat ramp had been replaced with a large swamp. Writing that site off, we soon passed a Wildlife commission sign indicating the location of the new ramp, on the opposite side of a busy road with an impassible divider running down the middle. We headed for Kinston.

I swore to Dick there actually was a boat ramp on the Neuse in Kinston. Thankfully Google Earth didn’t lie. We watched shore-bound spin fishermen take, and shake off, a few hickories. This was the first actual proof the fish existed. The river was still not fishable with a fly, at least on the assumption the fish has to see the fly before eating it. We deferred fishing at this spot and instead headed down the road to the Neuse River Sport Shop for some up-to-date fishing information.

An enthusiastic young man in the reel department said if he wasn’t working he’d be fishing the confluence of Contentnea Creek and the Neuse. The creek was about twenty minutes north in Grifton. There were several launching sites to choose from. Back in the car. I knew we entered Grifton proper when the Piggly Wiggly came into view.

Dick recognized “Andy’s,” an eatery he frequented while re-building several homes in the area after Hurricane Floyd. In fact, as we wandered down a side street looking for the boat ramp, we passed two houses he worked on. He noted one had a new roof. Dick recalled it was here, while tearing out the remains of a structure, that he met John Baskerville for the first time.

By a roll of the dice, we found the state-maintained Contentnea Creek boat ramp and actually put the boat in the water. We had only been driving around for about five hours. Until now, I wasn’t sure the boat was going to get wet.

The creek was wide at the launching site but quickly narrowed as we progressed downstream. The cypress forest grew right into the stream. The broad knees of some trees supported towering behemoths whose branches interlocked in a Spanish moss-laden canopy overlooking the tannin-stained water. We anchored in a promising spot and donated several Clouser minnows to the plentiful sunken wood. At least it was good to be out of the car.

We decided to break our flies off in another part of the stream and headed for the confluence with the Neuse. Unfortunately, the creek became increasingly constricted making me concerned about the water depth or striking a sunken log. Suddenly the creek opened up into a large pool containing another launching ramp; this was the new Maple Cypress site. The creek gradually increased in width until the Neuse was visible in the distance. We chatted with two guys flipping small jigs who said they had caught a few shad. Eager to take a hint, we anchored downstream from them.

About thirty minutes passed without a hit. Just for laughs I added a second Clouser and lost both on the next cast. I spent more time re-rigging than fishing. No time was spent fighting fish. Dick opined that the fish were not resting nearby but merely passing through. Our experience suggests migrating fish hit best while pausing to rest. These fish were certainly not eager to bite. I sat down, put my feet up and ate an apple.

I extended my break from the red-hot fishing by crawling under the dashboard in a vain attempt to get the new sonar unit working. Despite cleaning some electrical connections, no current made its way to the unit. Dick and I switched places and in five minutes the viewfinder lit up. Seems he moved the connections around and presto! I hope my assistance made some small contribution to his miraculous performance. Whatever, we had one success to celebrate.

A boat at the confluence moved off so we took his spot. Two young guys were in a boat tied to a tree below us and reeled in some nice hickories. They used a typical tandem rig of a jig and bright spoon on a light spinning rod. We cast into the clearer creek outflow against the bank for about thirty minutes without a strike. We couldn’t buy a fish. I think the brown water swirling from the main river into the creek water made it difficult for the fish to see our flies. It was pleasant casting in the sunshine nevertheless. We gave it our best shot and opted for a leisurely trip back to the ramp.

As you might have guessed, this was not our average spring shad trip. Actually, it was way, way below average but that’s fishing. We learned about one place we probably won’t return to and several that will never see us again. But we enjoyed each other’s company and the unusual environment of a cypress swamp. A few fish interrupting our reverie would have been a nice touch. Maybe that’s why the dictionary defines fishing as “the act of attempting to catch fish.” Oh well, we got some fresh air and stretched our casting arms. Maybe the Roanoke will drop by July.

Jim Brady

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