"Dude...we're in Maryland?"

Fast Jimi and I just returned from doing some fishing in western Maryland.  Let's just say we were very impressed.  More to come tomorrow...

Friday Fish Porn: Miller Time Edition

Dudewater favorite Johnny's been busy on the Big D...

Last week he was saying that the river was about to pop...looks like he was right.

If you want to go fishing with him over there check out www.westbranchresort.com for more information.

Sooner or later he'll get a big one...

A Final Fix?

With a couple of trout trips planned for my next round of days off, Victor and I got out Monday for what may have been the last "steelhead" outing of the year. Fittingly enough we had the river to ourselves with near-perfect conditions. It turned out to be probably the finest morning of fishing I've had all year, with plenty of big, aggressive and acrobatic fish in the mix along with the usual assortment of midget steel. As much as I say I'm over steelhead for the year, truth be told I know I'm going to be missing the hell out of these fish sooner than later...

Fishin' with Dad

Now that I'm a little older, and a little busier the time I spend on the water with my Dad is a little bit more valuable.  He's a working professional, one of the best at what he does, and that means that there usually isn't much time for our schedules to work out for a day on the river.

On Sunday, things fell in to place.  I was scheduled to guide, but some rain the forecast had things looking about 50/50.  With my client coming in from out of town, and wanting to stay and fish for a couple days, he made the decision to cancel.  With the way the weather was looking, I thought it was a pretty wise decision.  When drive time is likely greater than or equal to fishing time sometimes it just makes sense to stay put.

That said, if the rain held off my Dad and I would head out.  The next morning the pavement was dry, and the charts hadn't spiked.  Off we went.

I'd fished this section of river the night before, and it seemed like a nice push of fish was coming in.  I figured that overnight even more would have followed in behind them and that the same area would be a good bet for the next day.  My Dad picked out a good looking spot, and I walked up above him.  Just as I was peeling the line off my reel, I saw him set the hook, and a big fat silver hen came flying out of the water.  I started to walk down there to help him land the fish and snap a couple pictures, but before I'd gotten close the fish made another jump and his line went slack.  As soon as he lost tension my Dad jumped in the air and said a couple quick four letter words.  When you don't get out much that first one is a heart throbber, and when its going nuts on the end of your line I think you realize how much you've missed fishing for them.  Losing the fish is heartbreak, and it was evident on his face.  I'll say this, the guy still has some serious ups, though.

After a few more fish hooked and lost, and a few dozen casts without another, my Dad walked upstream and was a little dejected.  We saddled up and decided to take a little walk upstream.  This stretch is a popular destination, and all the usual spots get pounded.  A short walk, and a not-so-obvious drift later and my Dad was tight to another angry fish.

It was pretty obvious after our first fifteen minutes that there were a lot of fish in this section.  It was a good mix of both fresh and dropback fish, mostly small, but with a few bruisers mixed in.  Although the Jackhammer may be tired of skippers, and I was still a bit beaten from my encounter with the rod-breaker the night before they're still some of the most fun fish to catch.  They aren't shy to a fly, and at times they tend to forget that fish live in water, not air.

This thing was no exception.  Before the indicator had even twitched, this fatty was airborne like a submarine-launched missile.  

We fished through the rain until early afternoon, and had some really fantastic success - all with very little company, which was pretty nice.  At this point we'd done everything that we had set out to do, and a lot more.  On the walk back the most popular spot on the stretch, and probably the whole river, was open.  We decided to jump and and give it a try right in the sweet spot of the run.

One cast, one nice dropback...

Then my Dad jumped in, and after a couple drifts he hooked up.  The fish was going crazy, upstream, downstream, all over the place.  After ten minutes of the fish dictating every part of the fight I was starting to think that it was fouled...until it jumped.  I could see the line going straight in to the mouth of a big, big, buck.  As the fight wore on my Dad was starting to get the upper hand on the fish, and after a couple more runs, and a few awesome jumps, I netted his fish.

 It was one worth waiting for.  

Double Take

As it often does, 4:45 AM Saturday came earlier than expected. Actually, as far as I was concerned it never came at all - just rolled right on by and kept goin'. So when I finally did come to I turned on the turbo jets, skipped the sh*t-shower-shave routine, dove into my waders and headed East.

As it turned out by the time Victor and I caught up with our fishing party we hadn't missed much. The river was a little off color and a couple of hookups was all that anybody could account for. It seemed a stroll upstream was in order.

I was given first crack at the run under the condition that I approached with the two hander. Fine by me. The sun was shining and despite carrying a season-long swinging skunk, I was content to make a few casts. I pulled off some line and let 'er rip and quickly found a rhythm. If nothing else, when swinging flies if you can just find that rhythm it makes the time go faster...

Thud.

Shit, bottom. better give it a second anyway.

Thud-thud-thud thrash.

"HAHA! No way!"

I'd swung and missed so many times this year that I had a hard time believing I'd actually hooked something. Not a biggun' but a fish nonetheless and I was tickled pink. I was even more excited when I realized it was the first ever lake-run brown trout I'd taken in Ohio!

Awesome. Off the snide at long last. I was so happy about catching that dinky little fish that part of me felt like calling it for the day. But I hadn't even gotten through the good part of the run and I figured there had to be some more players in there. After a few dozen fishless casts I felt another thud and was pleasantly surprised yet again.

As much as I love lake-run smallmouth their arrival in the rivers usually marks the beginning of the end of spring steelhead. Again, fine by me. It's been a difficult spring season and I'm more than ready to start tackling the bronzebacks. I drove home happy as a clam thinking about how great it is to have a quality mixed-bag fishery so close to home. Time to start tying Clousers...

Finally... "We Got 'im!"

After years of searching, a handful of close encounters and some missed opportunities, Jimi Jackhammer finally landed a legitimate steelhead...

Super Mario

After guiding yesterday I ran into this guy on the stream:

Meet Mario.  Turns out he's a big fan of the blog, so we talked for a while and we ended up fishing until dark on Saturday evening.  As we were getting started, Mario gave me the honors of making the first cast in the first place we fished...

1 cast.  1 hookset.  1 rod-destroying microsteel.  After a quick photo-sesh with destruction and culprit in hand, Mario threw a couple in...

Bling-bling.  This kid is the real deal!