JimC
05-30-2006, 03:21 PM
I’ve been kind of bummed out the past couple of weeks. After getting the boat ready to roll in anticipation of the season’s first slug of fresh fish, whoossshhhh, the skies opened, flushing the entire 5,000 square mile drainage of the Merrimack River like one giant old-style high-volume toilet bowl, right past my back door. You’ve all heard the tales of twisted wreckage, sunken boats, raw sewerage, bloated pigs and entire runaway marinas careening toward the Gulf of Maine propelled by a peak flood discharge of 100,000 cfs. Perhaps you had property damaged in the flood waters. I hope things sort out for you. Thankfully no damage to the Casa de Chase and the subsequent media attention prompted a quick response from the state and local authorities. Within a couple days the National Guard, assisted by some "volunteers" from the Essex County Corrections Department, had removed 100s of tons of debris from the beaches of Plum Island.
Now, with May 2006 largely in the crapper, I realized for the first time how much that first slug of little fish meant to starting off my season right. Something about working your way, no other boats around, through the pockets back behind the islands or up in the marsh, picking 6 fish out of this eddy line, 4 from the next, following schools aggressively feeding on the surface up with the tide and back out again really sets the tone for the season and gets me in the groove. If you picked up two or three legal fish out of those schools by the end of May you were having a great opener. Not this season…Flooooshhh out to sea with you!
Some 14 days after the flood, things are beginning to return to normal or that is to say normal for an incredibly rainy spring or perhaps a spring marked by an unusually large snow pack runoff. The water is still very muddy and you need to adjust your approach accordingly. One morning in the middle of last week, (I forget which one) I cranked up the engine and idled into the receding floodwaters and worked the bar at the Point on a first light flood tide, figuring the boat would be a less likely target for outbound debris at mid flood. Dark contrasty flies on the bottom did the trick and by 8 a.m. I was on my way to work feeling pretty good about catching a couple fish without doing any damage to my lower unit although I had the sense that I needed to wash my lines with antibacterial soap by the time I was finished. Talk about waterline scum!
Memorial Day weekend rolled around, announced with warnings to boaters, public health advisories and impromptu no wake zones with hefty new fines. In light of all that, I wasn’t brave enough to explore too far upriver. Much of the flood debris, previously pinned on the upriver side of bridges, docks and rocks was being released at the turn of the tide now that the flood volume had subsided to allow the normal upstream tidal flow to resume. I poked around the mouth of the river at first light on Memorial Day. Tom had reported that some decent fish were there to be had there on Sunday. I found the same formula that had worked earlier last week was still working. Monday, the fish were small and but very aggressive. After about an hour of tormenting these agreeable fish I switched tactics and brought out the "big guns", a 10 wt with a 550 gr. line and a 6/0 9" blue/yellow Buffy in an effort to dredge up a better fish. Good idea but no joy. All in all, the short strikes were pretty amusing and an occasional suicide schoolie would get "gaffed" on the 6/0 hook although I couldn’t raise any better fish. By this time Tom and Steve had joined me drifting the mouth. Across the gunnel they shared a report they’d received about a 34" fish being taken up on the flats shortly after the tide began to flood.
It was just past dead low and I couldn’t get back in the Basin anyhow so I figured I’d run up and see just how far up onto Joppa I could squeeze. The tide was rising but the westerly breeze was stiff enough to push the boat downstream toward the mouth over the tide. I worked into about three feet of murky water, dipped my rodtip to see how deep I could see it. Suffice it to say the tiptop was out of sight long before the first snake guide met the water. "This should be fun!" I thought to myself eyes rolling at my own sarcasm. No matter, I was enjoying renewing my familiarity with the flats at low tide. Can’t go too wrong on a rising tide. I switched over to an 8 wt with an intermediate and a big striper dragon style fly hoping it would make some commotion just under the surface and get noticed. That combo worked as advertised and I was once again entertained by schoolie bass ripping through the silty water to whack the deer hair "sluggo" imitation. After a while of drifting around the flats with no particular objective other than keep the boat shallow and keep a fly in the water, abruptly time stopped, for an just instant. I’m sure of it.
Fifteen feet from the boat and 10 inches behind the spot in the water from which I was about to rip my fly for its next cast, I saw in that frozen moment, 8 inches of flared red gill slit, a broad caudal fin, (you know, with that kind of span), and a boil made by a fish longer than the water was deep. Apparently not panicked by the hook in her upper jaw or somehow feeling secure about being out of sight beneath 3 feet of brown water, the fish grudgingly put me on the reel after several steady circles around the boat to began a 10 minute slow speed slugfest. A second dogged run brought me to my backing knot. Ninety feet away she rolled on the surface and, tippet not withstanding, I knew it was just a matter of keeping her buttoned and getting her back to the boat. My leader was in the guides, the fish was boatside but I still hadn’t really seen her given the miserable water clarity. For a moment I considered my shiny new Christmas boga in the console rod holder. Nope, with my luck I’d knock her off. "Just lip her like you always have." I thought, not sure it was the right decision given a ten minute circular fight on a fairly light tippet.
There’s something satisfying about unhooking a fish at your waist with 18" of its tail draped over the gunnel. Certainly no record, bigger fish are caught all the time but I’ll take 21#, 38" for Joppa in May. I fished in the same muddy water this morning. Caught some decent fish too but owing to that lovely water I think I'll bring wipes with me tomorrow. I really do feel cheated out of May by the flood and truly miss the early season schoolie-pa-looza but for a while yesterday I didn’t miss it quite so much.
Now, with May 2006 largely in the crapper, I realized for the first time how much that first slug of little fish meant to starting off my season right. Something about working your way, no other boats around, through the pockets back behind the islands or up in the marsh, picking 6 fish out of this eddy line, 4 from the next, following schools aggressively feeding on the surface up with the tide and back out again really sets the tone for the season and gets me in the groove. If you picked up two or three legal fish out of those schools by the end of May you were having a great opener. Not this season…Flooooshhh out to sea with you!
Some 14 days after the flood, things are beginning to return to normal or that is to say normal for an incredibly rainy spring or perhaps a spring marked by an unusually large snow pack runoff. The water is still very muddy and you need to adjust your approach accordingly. One morning in the middle of last week, (I forget which one) I cranked up the engine and idled into the receding floodwaters and worked the bar at the Point on a first light flood tide, figuring the boat would be a less likely target for outbound debris at mid flood. Dark contrasty flies on the bottom did the trick and by 8 a.m. I was on my way to work feeling pretty good about catching a couple fish without doing any damage to my lower unit although I had the sense that I needed to wash my lines with antibacterial soap by the time I was finished. Talk about waterline scum!
Memorial Day weekend rolled around, announced with warnings to boaters, public health advisories and impromptu no wake zones with hefty new fines. In light of all that, I wasn’t brave enough to explore too far upriver. Much of the flood debris, previously pinned on the upriver side of bridges, docks and rocks was being released at the turn of the tide now that the flood volume had subsided to allow the normal upstream tidal flow to resume. I poked around the mouth of the river at first light on Memorial Day. Tom had reported that some decent fish were there to be had there on Sunday. I found the same formula that had worked earlier last week was still working. Monday, the fish were small and but very aggressive. After about an hour of tormenting these agreeable fish I switched tactics and brought out the "big guns", a 10 wt with a 550 gr. line and a 6/0 9" blue/yellow Buffy in an effort to dredge up a better fish. Good idea but no joy. All in all, the short strikes were pretty amusing and an occasional suicide schoolie would get "gaffed" on the 6/0 hook although I couldn’t raise any better fish. By this time Tom and Steve had joined me drifting the mouth. Across the gunnel they shared a report they’d received about a 34" fish being taken up on the flats shortly after the tide began to flood.
It was just past dead low and I couldn’t get back in the Basin anyhow so I figured I’d run up and see just how far up onto Joppa I could squeeze. The tide was rising but the westerly breeze was stiff enough to push the boat downstream toward the mouth over the tide. I worked into about three feet of murky water, dipped my rodtip to see how deep I could see it. Suffice it to say the tiptop was out of sight long before the first snake guide met the water. "This should be fun!" I thought to myself eyes rolling at my own sarcasm. No matter, I was enjoying renewing my familiarity with the flats at low tide. Can’t go too wrong on a rising tide. I switched over to an 8 wt with an intermediate and a big striper dragon style fly hoping it would make some commotion just under the surface and get noticed. That combo worked as advertised and I was once again entertained by schoolie bass ripping through the silty water to whack the deer hair "sluggo" imitation. After a while of drifting around the flats with no particular objective other than keep the boat shallow and keep a fly in the water, abruptly time stopped, for an just instant. I’m sure of it.
Fifteen feet from the boat and 10 inches behind the spot in the water from which I was about to rip my fly for its next cast, I saw in that frozen moment, 8 inches of flared red gill slit, a broad caudal fin, (you know, with that kind of span), and a boil made by a fish longer than the water was deep. Apparently not panicked by the hook in her upper jaw or somehow feeling secure about being out of sight beneath 3 feet of brown water, the fish grudgingly put me on the reel after several steady circles around the boat to began a 10 minute slow speed slugfest. A second dogged run brought me to my backing knot. Ninety feet away she rolled on the surface and, tippet not withstanding, I knew it was just a matter of keeping her buttoned and getting her back to the boat. My leader was in the guides, the fish was boatside but I still hadn’t really seen her given the miserable water clarity. For a moment I considered my shiny new Christmas boga in the console rod holder. Nope, with my luck I’d knock her off. "Just lip her like you always have." I thought, not sure it was the right decision given a ten minute circular fight on a fairly light tippet.
There’s something satisfying about unhooking a fish at your waist with 18" of its tail draped over the gunnel. Certainly no record, bigger fish are caught all the time but I’ll take 21#, 38" for Joppa in May. I fished in the same muddy water this morning. Caught some decent fish too but owing to that lovely water I think I'll bring wipes with me tomorrow. I really do feel cheated out of May by the flood and truly miss the early season schoolie-pa-looza but for a while yesterday I didn’t miss it quite so much.