Summer’s Most Prolific Hatch?

Here in Pennsylvania we are blessed with some amazing hatches throughout the year.  Many have pontificated over what they feel to be the most prolific hatch…. green drakes, white fly, hex….. none of them can hold a candle to what I experienced on the creek this week.  With the rains ushering in some early fall weather the infamous yet highly unpublicized TOILET PAPER HATCH went off in full bloom this week!

One of the glorious if not aromatic bi-products of heavy rains is that many of our local waterways are the recipient of our excess sewage.  Yes, yes, yes…. I know this is the eye opening equivalent of taking a black light into a rest stop hotel room.  I would prefer to remain an ostrich as well but once you pull the covers down, you might as well just come to grips with the reality.

So as the TP hatch goes off many of our favorite brown line species allow their noses to leave the stream bottom and venture to the surface for some “dry fly” action.  I have often thought of tying a “Charmin Special” for the occasion, but as it turns out one of the flies that occupies my box wherever I go fit’s the bill perfectly!

The venerable Blood Dot not only is deadly on taking carp as a nymph, but if you douse it in floatant, it is a perfect matching of the hatch for the Angel Soft Spinner.   It is funny how if  you are willing to experiment with your tactics you often learn things that you would never have known.  I always thought of Blood Dot’s or other egg patterns as trout and steelhead food.  Turns out it is the most consistent carp producer that CW or I have ever used.

So water conditions were a bit difficult for traditional sight fishing but I managed to find my favorite eddy to be chock full of big lips hoovering the surface.  I only had a few hours to fish but the action was on and you could feel even the mid-sized carp shaking off their summer doldrums with renewed energy.

So next time you get the chance.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect $200.  Get out and hit the TP hatch for some amazing dry fly carping!

Good Luck and Tight Lines,

MBL

I Seriously Need My Head Examined!

It was mid-afternoon and the sun was beating down relentlessly upon the water.  What was I thinking?  Well that is exactly what Mrs. Brownliner asked me as I came home sunburned and dehydrated.  What kind of moron goes fishing when it is this hot out?????

I suppose this moron does!  Now I would be a complete liar if I told you the fishing was prolific or that the fight in the fish I caught was top shelf.  I think the dog days of summer pretty much left all of us uncomfortable and gasping for air.  My motivation however is both specific and timely.  You see, to put it in fly fishing terms, Mrs. Brownliner has a double on and she is just about to land both fish!

So life has taken some amazing turns.  Any time between NOW and six weeks from now I will be driving the fish mobile mach 3 to the hospital with a woman in the passenger seat telling me where to turn and smacking me in the head the entire way.  This means a tremendous joy for the Brownliner clan and for me personally.  It also means that my fishing crack habit is going into detox for a bit until life settles back down.  So for now, I am getting every minute on the water that I can.  I don’t care if I have to fish downstream from a sewage outlet dumping little chunks of toilet paper into the creek!  Wait a minute, I was fishing downstream from a sewage outlet dumping little chunks of toilet paper into the creek!  My brain can still smell it to be honest… ughhh.

But I did bring some fish to hand!  I’m hoping to get a few more hours on the water before two little brownliners make their way into the world.  Wish me luck… I think I’m going to need it!

Potential World Record Cuda on the Fly Caught in Jamaica

I’m sorry… Shameful…. I know… but I couldn’t help myself…. Yes it is the potential world record for the SMALLEST Cuda ever caught on the fly!

I was going through my photo’s and found this from my honeymoon in Jamaica.  I spent weeks telling my wife about the glory of salt water fly fishing.  I showed her all of my specialized (code for “did you really need to buy that?”) salt water gear.  She could hardly control her giggles when after a day of chucking lead the only thing I could scare up was this cuda that was smaller than most blue gills from the pond back home.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I had a blast.  I saw some amazing things that day.  I have fond memories of the island foliage in full bloom.

I distinctly remember the visual distraction of Mrs. Brownliner in her bikini throwing off the timing of my casting.  Yes dear… the tailing loop was all your fault!

But mostly I remember the amazing zen like feeling of being on the water with the tropical sun beating down on us as I scoured the shallows for fish with a huge grin on my face.  These days, Mrs Brownliner is preparing the nest for two new arrivals at home so it might be a while before the flats will see my reflection again, but it never hurts to take a stroll down amnesia lane…. soon enough…. soon enough….

Good Luck and Tight Lines,

MBL

Childhood Lessons Pay Off on the Creek

When I was a young teen, my father took me on a fishing trip to Raystown Lake in central PA.  The trip was a striper trip and we went with some cousins and their friends.  The weather was beautiful and the lake looked to be in great shape.  What we did not know at the time was that it was the year of locusts (17 year) and prolific does not even come close to describing what we saw.  I shit you not… thousands and thousands of huge bugs dive bombing into the drink.  They would buzz on the surface unable to escape until a fish came up and gulped them down or they drowned sinking to the bottom to a similar fate.

We threw everything in the box at the stripers with not even a strike on either boat.  At this point in my life I had never picked up a fly rod so please excuse my trip back into a different era of fishing.  As day two of no action wore on, my dad had to make a stop at the marina and use the facilities.  I sat there watching the locusts buzzing on the surface near the dock.  Just then a huge carp just came up and inhaled it.  It looked like a Dyson moving across the surface sucking up every huge morsel in it’s path.  A grin spread across my face.

My father was walking back up the dock as I was taking the minnow bucket out of our boat and dumping it into the lake… “What the hell are you doing????”  he barked.  I looked up at him and asked him if he wanted to beat water or go catch some fish.  With that I took the empty minnow bucket and ran up the grass hand picking locusts off the tree’s and the shrubs and depositing them into my now empty minnow bucket.  When the bucket was buzzing like a Hitachi Magic Wand, I made my way back to the boat.  As we idled out I tied a floating jig head on to each of our spinning rods.  My dad just looked at me asking if I was going to clue him in.

When we told our cousins what we were doing they scoffed at us…..  “We didn’t come all the way to Raystown to catch CARP!”  OK… we said… catch you later.  My dad and I pulled off into a cove and hooked a locust onto the jig and let it drift.  It didn’t take long.  The V wakes coming at the bug here hysterical.  It was like an outtake from the movie “Jaws”.  I have no idea how many carp we caught that day, but it was a ton and we had a BLAST!  By the way, my cousins went home fishless and unhappy.

So what’s the lesson you ask?  No, it is not about the virtue of the much maligned carp.  Nor is it about judging a trip by the number of fish you catch.  The lesson I learned is that sometimes you have to take what the conditions are willing to yield.

Last night on the creek was a perfect example.  The water was stained and the clouds had shut off any site fishing so chasing carp was a pretty tall order.  After an hour I realized the futility of what I was doing and figured I’d change up.  It turns out I had a pretty good night with some very eager and game smallies and a nice Sauger.  Some of you might disagree but I try to keep multiple game plans in my pocket so regardless of what happens when you hit the water there is always fun to be had!

So… what would you have done?  Continue to chase your intended quarry?  Or go with what the conditions presented?  Curious to know.

Good Luck and Tight Lines!

MBL

CW Goes Red Neck… Plays with Kitty

So I FINALLY got out on the creek yesterday.  It had been close to a month since I had seen my favorite carp waters and was itching to get at it.  I only had a few hours, but it didn’t matter to me.  I was just happy to be on the water.  I showed up at about 6:30PM and suited up as quickly as I could.  I could see CW off in the distance landing a fish so I was optimistic right off the bat.

As he approached I doubled over laughing.  Dude!!!  That is about as “red neck” as it gets!  He just grinned at me and said, “yeah… I know.”

So I might as well just spit it out now… I got totally skunked.  Normally that really doesn’t bother me but after not seeing my creek for a month it did sting a bit.  Especially after CW landed this beautiful Cat!

We fished into the darkness but the bite just shut off.  The only thing that crossed our path were a pair of huge beavers.  These are the times in life that I crave more “me” time.  More time on the water… more time to reflect.  More time to match wits with a worthy adversary.  More time with good friends.

Life works in funny ways sometimes.  Sometimes it gives you what you want, sometimes it gives you what you need.  Sometimes it just tests you to see what your made of.  Yeah… I got skunked.  That should be the worst thing that happened to me

Good Luck and Tight Lines

MBL

Honorable Mention

Big thanks to John Hayes, the outdoor writer at the Post Gazette for shedding some light on fly fishing for carp!

http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/11226/1167075-358-0.stm

Hopefully our good friend Mr. Big Lips will get a bit of much deserved respect!

MBL

Pretty White for a Fly Guy

So last night I met a few friends to hit the white fly hatch.  Tim dropped me a message and we set our meeting time for 6:00PM.  After fiddling with my fly boxes (which I do often) and making sure I had all my gear, I took a look at the clock which read 2:30PM… Hmmmm… what to do?

I figured hell, that’s plenty of time to get in some brown lining on my local creek before we meet up.  I kissed my wife as she rolled here eyes at me and headed out.  Summer always brings such a conflict for me.  The temperatures have been ungodly hot and the humidity is off the charts.  Stepping into a pair of chest waders is like boiling yourself from the inside.  Wet wading sounds like the logical choice until you google a few stories about micro-bacterial infections, chemical burns, and trips to the emergency room.  I think I’ll just sweat…. and sweat I did.  I had to move my glasses down to the tip of my nose so they would stop fogging up.  Yeah, it was frigging hot.

We had just had some rain so the water was still pretty off color but I did manage to jump two nice smallies which both managed to spit the hook out faster than my 10th grade girl friend and this bad boy who I am still not sure how he opened his mouth wide enough to eat my fly

So we finally made it to the creek with a few hours of daylight still intact and we suited up.  I decided to once again put on my soaking wet waders despite our decent hike to the spot we were going to fish.  Two words… SWAMP Ass…  While we were in the car I had given the guys a few pencil poppers that I had tied for the Allegheny and totally forgot to put any in my box because I figured they would be a bit large for the occasion.  Sean tied his on for shits and giggles.  What ensued was pretty cool.  He had fish literally knocking each other out of the way trying to eat this thing.  He landed fish after chunky fish as Tim and I pretty much beat water.

As nightfall set in the hatch started to go off and it was pretty darn cool.  It was near blizzard conditions and smallies started sipping our dry flies amidst the white chaos.  I busted one really nice fish off and landed a few others that put up some nice battles.  Anyone who has eve fished with me knows the one thing I never forget is my camera.  I reached into my pocket to snap some pics of the thousands of white flies filling the air and the bass that were kind enough to cooperate and of course it was nowhere to be found.  Unhappy is an understatement but I guess I can’t complain.  I was fishing with good friend, good fish, and good karma.

I came home to Mrs. Brownliner who was still rolling her eyes at me wondering what would possess a grown man to want to stand in a cloud of bugs in the dark waving a fly rod for 8 hours.  The only thing I could say was, “honey… It’s the white fly hatch!”  insert eye roll here.

Good Luck and Tight Lines,

MBL

Meal Worm Smack Down

So this past week I was heading across the state on business and managed to sneak down to my favorite tail race for some summer trout action.  I got there and as luck would have it the mid-week crowds were sparse but a few elder statesmen were milling around.  I set up in my favorite run and began chucking my two fly rig hoping for some streamer action.  The fishing started out a bit slow but the old guy across the river was killing them!  One cast after the next.  We exchanged some idle chit chat and they asked me where I was from so I told them.

Once they realized I was a pretty good natured guy, the ribbing started… “Hey Mt. Lebanon… how’s the fishing over there?”  chuckle chuckle snort snort….  I laughed and smiled.  After landing my first decent bow I asked the age old question… so, “what are you throwing?”  Had I been paying much attention to what they were doing, I wouldn’t have had to ask because they weren’t really throwing much of anything.  The answer boomed across the river with pride…. “MEAL WORMS!”

Ahhhh… I nodded emphatically.  Was I really getting my balls busted by a group of retired dudes chucking meal worms with fly rods?  Yes indeed I was.  Now anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I am no purist nor am I one to judge how another man chases fish.  (unless of course they are using explosives).  But come on man!  If you are going to pretend to fly fish while you throw live bait that has to come with a no heckling clause.

As luck would have it, fish started to rise and I switched up to a few dry flies and managed to scare up three or four more trout which my hecklers seemed to approve of.

I guess this beckons two very important questions:

1.  If you are using live bait on a fly rod are you actually fly fishing?

2. If so, is it bad form to heckle a fly fisherman who is actually fly fishing?

Now don’t get me wrong, they were really nice guys having a blast and I did too.  I just couldn’t help my internal eye roll and broad smirk as they chirped back and forth at one another.  Who know’s…. maybe they have it right and it really doesn’t matter how you do it… Maybe whoever dies with the most fish wins?  Or maybe style does count for something after all?

What do you think?

Good Luck and Tight Lines!

MBL

Top Water Smallies Make Me Smile… and so does Cherry Jello

As the dog days of summer set in and the trout gasp for air like an asthmatic searching for his inhaler any of us with half a heart begin searching for other fish to harass for the next month or so.  For the highbrow trout purist who would sooner take a dump in his Simms G4 waders than to intentionally throw a fly at a carp or cat, smallies seem to be the moderately acceptable alternative.  They are the annoying uncle who you still invite to your family functions despite the fact that he tries too hard to be cool and double dips the salsa bowl with his unwashed hands while everyone else watches in horror.

Me… what can I say… I don’t mind slumming it and that Uncle that rubs you the wrong way… I think he’s frigging hysterical.  (even though I still won’t dunk a chip in that salsa bowl)

Summer smallies can be as much fun as a man can have if you are minus two twenty four year old blondes in a kiddie pool with 25lbs of cherry jello and a fly swatter.  Something about watching them explode on a white popper as the sun is setting over the water that is absolutely magical.  (now if only I had a cherry jello fly!)

Anyhow…. I digress.  Last week CW and I headed down to the Allegheny for an evening as Mrs. Brownliner was kind enough to give me a free pass for the night because I was a good boy.  Well maybe I wasn’t a good boy, but I wasn’t in trouble like I usually am.  So we headed off into the fading light throwing poppers, eating beef jerky, and telling bad jokes.  All of which are integral parts of the experience.

The fishing was not crazy and we didn’t catch record numbers of fish, but we did manage to scare up a few bronze backs looking for a fight and had a great time.

So if you are looking for a great time fishing this summer and want to cut the trout a bit of slack, get out of that kiddie pool (the blondes are not on their way!) and chase some summer bronze…. BIG FUN!

Good Luck and Tight Lines

MBL

Carp on the Fly Talk Slides from International Angler

Last night I gave a talk at International Angler in Pittsburgh on fly fishing for carp.  For those of you that were not able to make it here are the slides from the talk.  Unfortunately you missed the round table style conversation which was the best part but hopefully this at least gives you a flavor of what went on!

 

Good Luck and Tight Lines

MBL