Smallies on the Fly 7/5

Smallies on the Fly from Mike McNeese on Vimeo.

Tonight, Mike and I decided to hit a local flow that is known for its smallmouth bass. We met at a local shopping center and headed for the river for the last couple of hours of daylight. Although this was a short trip, it was still an eventful adventure.
We arrived on the river before 7pm and quickly rigged up for our journey upstream. Mike was throwing a wooly bugger and I had a small crayfish pattern to toss around the stream. Mike was first on the board with a fiesty smallmouth. These fish aren't huge by any sense of the imagination, but they think they are. I am not sure there is a harding fighting fish than a river smallmouth bass.
I had not had a strike and decided to work a slack pool behind some dead fall. I had to sling shot a cast in between two large dead logs and it was immediately hammered by a broad shouldered smally. It was a miracle that I was even able to get that fish out of that mess, but I did. I am not sure how big he was, but it would be the best fish of the day.
We continued to work our way upstream. We caught some small fish and then decided to switch to top water flies. I was throwing a hairbug and Mike was throwing a popper. We had several strikes and I eventually hooked a fish the grabbed the fly right in front of Mike. I was glad he was able to see it, but no video.
We caught a few more fish before heading back down stream. On our way back to the car, we found a mink hunting through the weeds. We were able to call him close by sqealing at him. He doesn's show up well on camera, but it sure was cool when he caming running down the bank and pooped his little white-chinned head up out of the weeds. Later, we watched bat after bat leave their sanctuary in one of the overpassing bridges.
It was another fantastic evening spent with a good friend, a fly rod, and some fish.

Mad River 7/2

Ninety years ago tomorrow, my grandfather was born. He passed away two years ago just after his 88th birthday. I grew up trout fishing his farm in Western Pennsylvania. I learned to wield a fly rod in his bottom. I spent more time on a boat with him than I can remember. He is a large part of why I love to fish so much today. Rather than visit a cemetery and talk to a rock, I make it a point to fish every year on or around his birthday. I thought of him a great deal today.I caught some fish. I took in the sights. I remembered a good man.
The day started with a thunder that woke me out of bed. I did not think it was even suppose to rain this morning, but sure enough the streets were wet. I was going to leave bright and early, but a quick check of the radar kept me at home a few hours longer. I was in no hurry. I was fishing alone today.
The river was busy with other anglers and canoes. So after a quick stop at one of my favorite spots, I decided to head upstream above the canoe hatch. It was a good idea. I arrived at the next spot to find only one car and I figured that this person was fishing the lower water, so I rigged up and headed upstream. I was rewarded immediately for my move. My first fish on my new 4pc 7'9" 3 weight came on the dry. A good omen for a new rod!

I quietly worked my way upstream. I fished small pools and quick runs. I had a couple of misses on my dropper and a quick inspection found me changing flies to something with a sharp hook. On the next two casts, I was rewarded with an 11" and the fish of the day, a solid 15" Mad River brown. Unfortunately for me, the bigger fish would not cooperate for the camera and was soon out of the net and back in the water.
That fortunate feeling of fooling a trout is as satisfying as anything I know in nature. I was good for the day. I could have left and went home, but there were more fish to catch and more memories to remember.As I worked my way upstream some more, I was again reminded of my times with Pap. He gave me my first fly rod. It was an old fiberglass South Bend with a matching reel. I remembered that old rod, my first tackle box, walks along the creek, my first deer rifle, my first trip to Canada,rabbit hunts, my first walleye, and on and on.
At the next nice hole, I caught two more trout and lost another good one. I also saw a nice buck run across the river, jump a fence, and turn to see what had startled him. It was and awesome way to be reminded of my time with Pap.

I caught more trout today than I deserved. I made more memories and was reminded of old ones. I will fish again tomorrow with the family and celebrate the fourth as well as Pap's birthday. It will be another good day on the water! I'll end this with a few pictures of my day.

One of the many GIANT cottonwood trees that line the stream.

Some of the stream side vegetation.

Mad River June 24, 2011

Trout on the Mad from Mike McNeese on Vimeo.

My buddy Mike and I were finally able to hit the river this week. The water is running twice as fast as it normally would this time of the year. We fished from 5pm until almost dark. We did see quite a few may flies, but I never saw a fish rise to any of them. There is just so much water for this time of year.
We both managed to land a few trout. The trout fought great in the high, cold water. I am always amazed at how well even the smaller Mad River browns fight. All of the fish came on a Copper John fished under a Goddard Caddis. It is not my favorite way to fish, but it was very effective for the water we fished.
Mike tried out his new HD underwater camera. The footage isn't perfect, but it is pretty neat to see this camera at work. It was great to finally share some time on the river with a good friend, some nice weather, and a few willing fish.

Clear Creek April 2, 2011

It has been way too long between outing. Life has become hectic and seems to get in the way at times. There has been much turmoil in the family and it is all justified. I needed a break, but I was hesitant to leave. It took very little coaxing from my lovely wife to convince me that I should go.
The weather seemed somewhat unsettled. It has almost been a reflection of my life. Sunny one minute and dreary the next. Today would be no different.A quick text to my buddy Mike and we were soon on our way to local water.


Clear Creek is not my favorite Ohio trout stream, but it is close. There has been much debate as to the fishery's viability. Poaching, warm tempratures, and low summer flows have lead to many debates on the sustainability of this water shed. I am not one to complain, but the stream seems to lack the promise of trout larger than ten inches. I refer to the stream as a pacifier for other places with more promise. However...
What Clear Creek lacks in leviathon browns it makes up for in scenery. The stream always seems to allow me the feeling that I have left the state for some place more peaceful or exotic.
We moved trout all day and experienced a gammit of weather conditions that ranged fro warm sun to heavy sleet and hail. It was a fantastic day with a few fish landed and many more that teased us to return.

Morgan

When I was a boy I would cry every time my father left to go trout fishing. It was painful knowing that he was leaving to go do something that I loved. In Western Pennsylvania, trout fishing was as much a part of spring as the robins or the spring peepers. I was blessed to grow up within walking distance of a trout stream and enjoyed that luxury throughout my upbringing.I caught my first trout when I was two.I had my first fly rod when I was six. My springtime's revolved around that stream and those trout, but I would it hurt when he left without me.
I have to admit that I have not done a very good job in sharing my hobbies with my children. Don't get me wrong, my kids both love to fish, but I have left them behind on many of my own stream excursions. There are so many memories to be made and I want to make sure that we make those memories together.
So today Morgan and I headed for the backyard to do a little fly casting practice. No water or current to deal with. We did have some wind. This is not the first time she has casted a fly rod, but I wanted this to be quality instruction. I want her to be able to fish a good hatch and catch fish on the surface. She was awesome.
Morgan is our musician. She has a gifted ear and her rhythm is impeccable. She also a great student. She is a natural with the fly rod and was soon shooting line all over the back yard.




After a good twenty minute lesson, I asked her if she would like to tie a fly or two. She was excited and ready to go. When she was little she would sit on my lap and play at the vice. She loved making all kind of crazy pieces of artwork there. The material boxes were more like craft boxes, but this time she was ready for a little more serious time at the vice.
We decided to tie a "green weenie," a Pennsylvania favorite attractor nymph. She once again proved to be a great student. She was so eager and even apologetic.


It was an awesome morning and a wonderful experience to share with such a lovely young lady. I look forward to more practice and to sharing time with her on the water soon.I love you Babe! I know, I know, I am going to have to do something about her choice of fishing hats.

Clear Creek 2011

The weather here in Ohio has finally taken a turn for the better. It has been a long cold winter to this point and there has been a great deal of ice and snow on most of the local waters. A delightful mid-February thaw has melted both the ice and snow and began the annual burning desire to find fish with my fly rod.The weather was a balmy 45 degrees with plenty of sunshine and a light breeze.

I quickly tied a few of my favorite mid-winter flies and took the twenty minute drive south to Clear Creek. This is a nice drive even when the fishing is poor. This is as wild as we get here in Ohio. I have never caught many big fish here, but is always cures my cabin fever and gives me the feeling of being someplace more wild and exotic.

I dressed and rigged up and soon heard the familiar sound of water swishing through my legs. It is a sound that never gets old and continues to take my back to the days of my youth. It is a sound that reminds my of my grandmother and her love as she watched me fish along the banks of her stream in Pennsylvania. A sound that reminds me of the two miles walk to the same stream as it flowed in through the mountains of West Virginia. I miss those days and those fish.
The shade of the valley made me wish I had worn gloves. The fishing this time of year is slow and methodical. It is more about slogging the water than it is the wispy, delicate casts of the dry fly. It will suffice in quenching my thirst for fishing.I did manage to see quite a few midges hatching, but not enough to bring anything to the surface to feed.

I soon hooked and lost a nice holdover right at the surface. The winters rust was disappointing. After finding a fisherman in my favorite run, I moved back up stream and caught my first brown of the year. A giant 6" fish. Good things come is small packages.

The rest of the afternoon found more people and a few chubs. Most of my favorite places had people already fishing there. I will be back to explore again soon. It was a beautiful day that afforded me the pleasure of fishing once more.

Steelhead!

Today, Coach Miller and I headed north to the Rocky River. We were up early and on the road before 6am. After a stop at McDonalds, we were soon suited up and headed for the running waters of the Rocky.
I have to say that the Cleveland Metro Parks are incredible. As a Steeler fan, it is hard for me to find anything nice to say about Cleveland, but the parks are the best I have ever seen.
Coach and I fished the Cedar Point area of the park and I hooked up on a large white sucker that fought like a champ. Sorry, I do not take pictures of suckers! After hammering a section of riffles, we decided to head up-stream and above the crowds of fisherman. We soon found solitude and a fish.
We fished hard for several hours and found a few more suckers and sevral chubs, but a cold front seemed to shut the fish down. I would like to explore more of the upper reaches of this system during a weekday.
It was a good day spent with a good fishing buddy.