Warm Memories

Well, it's winter time. I know the trout are active, but I'm not yet desperate enough to stand outside and swing nymphs through the water, hoping a little hatchery fish hooks itself. Instead, I thought I'd recall some nice warm fishing memories instead.
My friend Kirk took this picture in Hawaii some years back. We were fishing one of his secret ulua spots when I caught this wrasse. I'm not sure what species it is, but in Hawaii, people call it a 'table boss' because at the end of the meal, this guy is the last one on the table! I didn't keep this fish so I can't say how it would have tasted, but regardless of flavor it was fun to catch.

Panama Part 2: Isla Taboga/Pacific Ocean

After our stay in the rainforest, we headed to the beaches of Isla Taboga, a small island about 12 miles from Panama City. Among the 900 or so inhabitants we found Thijs and Jeannette who retired from California to Taboga several years ago. Along with their vacation rental, Thijs runs a fishing charter business.
For a very reasonable rate, Captain Thijs takes clients out on his 24 foot panga, fishing around the inner islands for mahi-mahi, jacks, roosterfish, sierra mackerel, and whatever else swims by.
The weather was unstable, but between the two days we were there we managed about 3.5 hours of fishing. We had good luck the first day, with a number of hits and one good sized sierra mackerel landed:

That evening, Thijs arranged for a local chef to cook the fish for our dinner. We were served huge fillets, cooked in a local style 'creole sauce' with fried yucca and patacones on the side. It was absolutley delicious and cost about $11 for both of us - definitely one of the best meals of the trip.
Overnight it rained hard and the water was murky the following morning. We fished a few nearby islands but failed to catch anything else.

You can see more photos from our trip here!

Panama Part 1: Lake Gatun/Panama Canal

We're back from Panama! It was an excellent trip. The weather was warm, the people were friendly and the fishing was good.
We stayed the first several days in Gamboa, a small town in Soberania National Park and right next to Lake Gatun. The lake includes the northern end of the Panama Canal and is well known for it's peacock bass fishing.
There are fishing charters available, most run by American expats, and most charging U.S. prices, but we had heard rumors that local fisherman could be hired for much cheaper. We were fortunate to get some advice from the scientist who ran the lodge were we stayed. He gave us directions to a boat ramp where he claimed we could find a local guide.
After a slightly dangerous walk over a long one lane bridge and along a narrow jungle road we managed to find the boat ramp and a "guide."
Joela was probably about 14 and he spoke no english. He had a boat though, and agreed to take us fishing.
Joela had three spinning rods, one of which barely reeled and another which had only about 25 feet of line on it. He also brought a bucket of live bait and a large, empty cooler. I had packed my fly rod and a number of promising flies. So equipped, we set off up the canal at full speed. After 20 minutes of high speed maneuvering around huge cargo ships, we finally turned off the canal channel and entered one of the maze-like arms of Lake Gatun proper.
Our first stop looked promising - lots of huge submerged stumps and flooded timber. After only a few minutes, the bite turned on and I quickly switched from live bait to the fly rod. The fishing was fast and furious and we quickly filled Joela's cooler.


Tara hooked onto this fish, which I believe is the biggest she's ever caught.

We eventually moved on and after a few less productive spots had exhausted our bait. While Joela switched to a little bass lure and Tara relaxed in the sun, I continued to fish my white clouser minnow which had been extremely effective all day. The water level was high in the lake (November is the end of Panama's rainy season) and I speculated that, just like largemouth bass, there might be some large agressive males protecting their fry along the flooded banks. My hunch proved correct and I was rewarded with my largest peacock bass ever:
It was a great end to a great day of fishing. We headed for home soon after, as the perpetual mists descended from the rainforest to drench us on the ride back.

Thoughts on Victory

Where's the walking stick?
Yesterday I went fishing for bluegills to use as bait for catfish, and I was reminded of something.
I can't remember when I started fishing for bass or trout, but it took me three days of fishing to land my first catfish. I don't feel that catching cats is much harder than sunfish, nor easier than trout. I do remember trying to catch my first carp. That was difficult. I fished nearly every day for weeks before I landed one.

Softshell turtle.
Yesterday I ran across several carp feeding and managed to put a carp wooley in front of them. The first fish I cast to, in front of and just to the side of it's head, immediately darted to my fly and inhaled. We played tug of war for a bit. The fish never really ran far, but I could feel it shaking it's head in irritation. Unfortunately, the head shaking worked and my fly popped free.

Our next President. Yay!
The second carp I spotted was a big fellow, and was heading right towards me. I gently lowered my fly and the carp barely altered course as it hoovered the wooley up. The big fish started to run, pulling me along the slippery bottom and nearly into the water and then let the fly go. I don't think the hook ever set, the fish simply had it clamped in it's lips for a moment. Just long enough to remind me that while I enjoy catching all kinds of fish, I love catching carp.

Fat Cats

There are so many variables in fishing. My first try catfishing was in shallow water with hot dogs as bait. My second try was in deep water, this time using fresh chunks of sunfish as bait. Although I caught bass both days, I am certain that neither effort elicited a catfish nibble. So, on my third try I decided to try something totally different. I abandoned the reservoir, and instead attacked the Stone's River tailwater just as the sun was rising.I tried casting my bait near undercut banks and fallen logs, and into deeper pools with low current. It wasn't long before I felt a sharp strike, and though there was no fish on, my confidence soared. I was sure it had been a catfish. I moved downstream to the next promising area and soon had my first channel catfish:
Having read that catfish are often caught in groups because they tend to congregate around underwater structure, I recast to the same spot and was rewarded with a second fish:

The Lieutenant Colonel

A cold fall day on the water today. The wind has been up so I left the fly rod at home and brought along the Whuppin' Stick, hoping to find some carp or catfish feeding in deeper waters. I must admit that I am a novice at baitfishing. I know that sounds odd - put some tasty morsel on a hook, throw it in the water, wait until something eats it ... how hard can it be? Well, I spent most of my day losing tackle on submerged rocks and trees and feeding hot dog slices to hungry turtles. I guess I need to do some more reading on the subject.
Not to be left fishless, I decided to tie on a popper and look for bass on my way back to the car. I love fishing top water lures like this because it reminds me of fishing for ulua in Hawaii. Plus, it usually catches fish:

Florida

We took a mini vacation to Florida this week for some much needed beach time. We took one day to visit the Everglades, and on a hike we saw evidence of recent high waters - every slight depression in the trail held quickly evaporating puddles which teemed with tiny fishes and crustaceans:
In the late afternoon I pulled out the spinning rod and rigged up a large popper. I didn't know what to expect but I was fortunate and landed my first ever snook!
I am quite taken by this fish, the black color along the lateral lines is especially striking. I actually hooked up to a second fish, which I believe was another snook, but that one grabbed the popper and swam straight for the tangled roots of a mangrove where I lost it.
The next day we met up with Cordell Baum, a guide I had hired to take me fishing on the flats of Biscayne Bay. Unfortunately, the wind was too strong and we had to go to plan B, Urban Canal Fishing. We rendezvoused before sunrise to try for tarpon. We saw the fish rising but got no response to our baitfish imitations. I did hook up on a pretty good fish, probably another snook, but it eventually got free. The only fish of the morning was a small tucanare bass that I landed:Despite a relatively unproductive day, we had fun seeing Cordell's 'secret spots,' and I learned a lot about how to attack these fish. Next time I'll be ready.

Tara "The Terror"

Tara's always been a good sport about my fishing habit, and she often joins me on the water to relax. Occasionally, I try to put a fly rod in her hands. It turns out that she's no slouch with a bass bug:

Lightning, camera, action!

I almost stayed home today. Wind, rain and thunderstorms were in the forecast, but if there is one thing I've learned about fishing this year, especially fly fishing for carp, it's that persistence is key. So I went. It began to rain almost immediately and I soon gave up looking for carp and tied on a little popper. I waded along shore, casting to fallen trees and big rocks and watching feisty little bluegills attack my fly.
Soon though, the rain let up and the post storm calm was magical. The lake looked like a pane of glass, the forest was still and wet and I was utterly alone on the water. Also, I began to spot carp, tailing and rooting in the shallows. I switched my popper for a nymph and the hunt was on.
The sun poked out for all of five minutes, just long enough for me to catch sight of a drum working along the bottom of a rocky ledge. I dropped in my fly and the fish rose gratefully off the bottom to meet it (the toe of my boot snuck into the pic for size reference):
I explored farther than I had ever been before, and found some cool spots. The rain fell off and on all morning. I alternated between catching sunfish on the popper and trying to put my nymph in front of carp. The sunfish proved cooperative, but it wasn't until the way back that the carp joined in the fun. I spotted a trail of mud clouds parallel to shore and with some stealth and patience I was able to feed my fly to the culprit. I held on to this fish for probably 20 minutes before it finally let me get it's head into my net:
The fun didn't stop there! I was just across the bay from the car, soaking wet and elated when two things happened - I hooked up to a second carp, and the lightning started. Moments later, two more things happened - I realized that I was standing in the middle of a lake with a 9 foot fishing rod in the air during a thunder storm and the carp on the end of my line decided it would swim to the other side of the bay. Needless to say I ended the fight as soon as I could, snapped a quick photo and booked it back to the car. An epic day!

U Boats

The carp have seemed scarce ever since my return from Oregon this summer. I hated to consider the possibility that "carp season" had ended here. Besides, all the evidence pointed to the contrary, there should be lots of hungry carp around. The water is warm and shallow, resulting in more plant growth which is habitat for all kinds of aquatic bugs that carp like to eat. Yesterday I hit the water just after sunrise, thinking maybe time of day was the issue. I had a little luck, spotting some fish feeding in a couple feet of water but I was unable to hook up. On my second pass over the flat, the fish were gone, but I kept looking.
My perseverance finally paid off. I came upon a fat fish feeding at the edge of a deep pool which attacked my nymph ferociously.

One fat fish!

With one fish in my net, and renewed confidence, I struck out again. This time I found what I was really looking for. On a muddy flat which is only accessible by foot when the water is low like it is now, I discovered lots of fish. They were all feeding intently, and they were in super shallow water. This was the "freshwater bonefishing" scenario I had been searching for! Right off I had one good strike, but the hook didn't set and the fish scattered. A little farther along I spotted a cloud of mud leading towards shore. Looking intently for the fish that made it, a nervous ripple or a tail slicing the surface, I followed the trail. I finally spotted the culprit under some overhanging branches, feeding noisily in water that couldn't have been more than three inches deep - the entire back of the fish was in the air and shining in the sun. I made two casts which fell short. As the fish turned back towards me I made a third cast, maybe 25 feet, tucking it in under the branches. My fly plopped down right in front of the fish who responded by darting forward greedily. I set the hook and watched with satisfaction as my second carp of the day made waves towards deeper water and my reel buzzed with success.

Freshwater "Bonefish."

The U Boat returns to the deep.

The Caney Fork Wildcat

Mike and I headed back to the Caney Fork this past week. I was eager to get back in the cool water and try out my new purchase, a pair of breathable Dan Bailey chest waders. When we arrived, the water was still a bit high, but we eventually made it out to Mike's favorite feeding lane. At first the fish took big drifted "prince nymphs" near the bottom. Things slowed down as the day progressed, but picked up again in the late afternoon when we switched to "copper john's."



As the sun set and we made our way back along the bank of the river we encountered all kinds of wildlife: wild turkeys, deer, and the rare Caney Fork Wild Cat:

A day at the beach

The water level has dropped in Percy Priest Lake, making one of my favorite spots perfect for wading. With the sun shining, the wind calm and the water warm, yesterday afternoon was a picture perfect carp fishing day... without the carp. I don't know where the fish have gone. There is ample food on the flat - I saw thousands of baitfish, crawdads, and plenty of feeding fish, but only two carp. One was literally scratching it's back on a sunken log, probably in response to parasites, the other one was feeding but disappeared before I could say 'wooly bugger.'
I hooked up to three decent bass, lost the first two but hung on to the third:
It's a pretty good size bass, but when you have carp on the brain, even a world record largemouth is just a medium sized fish that doesn't pull too hard.

Fueled by Fish

After Hurricane Ike closed down refineries in Texas a week or so ago, there was some disruption in the supply lines bringing gasoline to Nashville. Those attracted by the drama of a shortage began lining up at gas stations. This DID cause a shortage because people who didn't really need gas, or people who would normally have just put in a quarter of a tank were suddenly topping off every chance they got, and filling up extra gas cans too! The "psychological gas shortage" (as my friend has dubbed it) did not stop Mike and I from visiting a local bass spot on the Harpeth River System.
Mike hadn't been to the stream in years and was suprised at the changes. Erosion had widened the streambed which meant shallower water and so the big bass of his youth had moved on to new homes. There were still some fish and we had fun wading from pool to pool, catching fish where we could:

This is a well hidden spot - one I never would have found without some local help. A real Tennessee treasure...

Caney Tuesday

I visited the Caney Fork on Tuesday. There were fewer fish than on my first visit, but what was lacked for in numbers was made up for in size. 
The weather is definitely changing. After the remnants of Hurricane Ike moved through this past weekend, the air has failed to warm back up to summer temperatures. That combined with the old age of my wetsuit made for some shivers.
The fish of the day went to my buddy Mike (actually most of the fish went to Mike!) He caught this fattie on a hare's ear nymph and landed it on a 7x tippet:

leader shy

Finally some action! I have been so close to successful the last few times I've gone carping - the fish would show interest by approaching my flies, but then at the last second, with no regard for my feelings, they would just pass up my offering. Thinking it might be leader shyness, I decided to tie on a 6X tippet for my next attempt. For you non-fishing folks, the tippet is the very end of the line, onto which I tie my fly, and 6X means that the tippet is very very thin and nearly invisible, but also not very strong, so one must be gentle when playing fish. The change seemed to work. I caught this nice drum chillin' by the bank. If you look closely, you can see my little pink worm fly stuck in it's upper lip.
Tradition dictates that when releasing fish into a current, they should be held gently, facing upstream. That way, water flows over the gills which helps the fish to recover. In low current or stillwater, I recommend gently rocking the fish forward and backwards. Though apparently some fish gills use a countercurrent exchange which means that backwards motion is not particularly efficient, the gills are essentially a passive membrane so any motion of water over gills should help the fish recover faster.

Breaking New Ground

Just before the rainy effects of the tropical storms in the Caribbean hit Nashville, I scouted a new fishing spot. The water looked promising and I saw plenty of wildlife: wild turkeys, deer, herons, a large snake, but alas no fish!