Have you ever had a really good day – you know, the kind of day where everything goes just perfectly?
This is NOT going to be that day.
4:55am
My eyes begrudgingly focus on the mobile phone’s clock. Ugh. I flip the alarm off since 5 minutes more sleep isn’t going to help me anyway. It’s Saturday morning and I’m completely exhausted; this week had been tough on the sleep schedule and now I’m feeling it in spades. However, today is Father’s Day “observed”, since my daughter Jazmin has to work on the actual Sunday holiday. I dig deep for motivation and roll out of bed.
The Jeep gets loaded and the first stop is the local IHOP for breakfast. We both opt for coffee this morning, despite the fact that neither of us even likes coffee. Over a pile of way too many pancakes, we discuss our previous attempt at fly fishing from the day before.
First, let me admit that in hindsight it wasn’t the best of plans to begin with. There had been good reports of some big Largemouth Bass being caught in Lake Austin. Now normally we would go to a river as a first choice, saving the lakes for times when the rivers are blown out or too cold for fishing. This time was different, this time we opted for a lake for no other reason than we wanted a change of pace. Over the last 2 months we had “explored” over 120 grueling miles of Texas Hill Country Rivers, meticulously recording everything. We desperately wanted a break from that for our leisure time.
The huge flaw in our plan was an overly optimistic belief we could hide from the 25mph winds in Bee Creek cove. I don’t know if this was so much as being naïve as blindingly stupid on our part. Light gear in heavy wind and deep water, a kayak that was being blown all over the place, making it impossible for the rear paddler to even try to fish. These were harsh reminders of one reason why rivers tend to be a better place to fly fish.
The Lake Austin trip wasn’t without some action, one of my fly creations, the Flying Cat, which is based on the Cat Whisker, hooked up with a 16”-18” Largemouth Bass. But I lost it when it made a run under the kayak and I neglected to push my rod underwater. The tippet snapped leaving me profoundly angry at myself. After tying on a new Flying Cat I was able to catch the nicest Bluegill I’ve ever caught on a fly rod. It was only 9” but the coloration was stunning. Upon closer study, it shares markings with the Redear Sunfish, a hybrid perhaps?
Anyhow, today we find ourselves heading out into a Texas Hill Country sunrise to spend time on our favorite river, the Blanco. The wind buffets the Jeep with ominous foreboding; we exchange weary glances whenever the big gusts blow.
I silently make a promise to myself: No matter how bad the wind is, I am not going to allow myself to get frustrated and angry. Today is a gift from my daughter and I will accept it for whatever it is.
Dropping off the float tubes and gear at the crossing, I was pleased to find the majority of the wind being blocked by the thick forests that line the river banks. The water is still heavily rippled; enough to prevent sight casting and the wind swirls in sufficiently as to buffet light/fluffy flies but it is definitely possible to fish our ultralight fly rigs. Because I started out with such abysmally low expectations, I begin to cheer up as I realize things aren’t so bad!
With our floats pumped up and being pulled behind us on leashes, we step into the cool clear water. The plan is to wade fish as much as possible, using the floats only when the pools are too deep to do otherwise. Moving down river we hit the first of several micro-pools. These look like good spots to warm up with short casts before getting to the more lucrative areas.
I tie on another of my creations, the Tussle Spider, which is really just a heavily modified Tussle Bug. This particular fly was a test; I wanted to see how small the Tussle Spider could practically go and made this one on a #12 nymph hook. As expected, the dink sunfish love the little fly.
I quickly pull 3 small Redbreasts from that first little pool. As I bring in a fourth dink, a trio of Smallmouth Bass chase the struggling little fish in. I give the dinky Redbreast a lot of slack to see if the bass will eat it but he spits out the fly and flees into the rocks. As the bass turn away I reactively make a roll cast, flipping the little spider on top of them. One of them quickly turns his head up and sucks it in!
Not a big fish by any measure but it sure is a lot of fun on the 000 weight rod never-the-less. Even more enjoyable was giving a running commentary to Jaz as she watched it unfold from over my shoulder. We find ourselves laughing, the dark mood from yesterday lifting.
The next little spot we had previously dubbed the Monolith Pool for the single imposing boulder that dominates the river here. It’s not really a pool large enough for 2 people to fly fish so I make a couple of quick casts and then move on down river. Jaz stays and works the spot thoroughly; probably giving a lot more attention than it deserves fish-wise but I figure she is just soaking in the scenery.
As I leave her I announce that I am setting a goal to catch at least 100 fish today. Yeah, I’m feeling all kinds of cocky with the 4 little fish I’ve caught so far and I don’t even get the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her with the gauntlet I’ve thrown down. ..not yet at least.
Working my way down river I pass a family who I assume are the local landowners enjoying their morning in a narrow riffle. They have 2 young boys and a little girl playing boisterously in the surrounding water. It’s tempting to stop and try to catch something for the kids but they’ve likely spooked everything anywhere close by. I exchange pleasantries with everyone as I wade past and skip the pool just below the riffles.
The following spot we call the Sweeper Pool; it is a fly fishers dream. The south bank is low sloping and shallow, allowing for easy wading with an unobstructed backcast. The north bank is deep and sweeps 90 degrees to the south, the start of The Green Mile. This is textbook fly fishing, casting into the current that hugs the opposite bank.
I remember the constant reminders from my wife to put sunscreen on and can’t think of a better place to spend time waiting for Jaz (who is carrying the sunscreen) to catch up than this place. The pool is full of sunfish and the Micro Tussle Spider is slaying them. I am up to number 14 by the time I see Jazmin coming around the corner up river.
I’m just down from a set of riffles that lead into the pool when the first big fish of the day hits my fly. The little rod doubles over under the strain and I let the fish take some line while I work the reel to gather up the rest.
Pop!
The line flings over my head and I figure the tippet’s snapped. Reeling in, I find the little #12 hook bent out to about 70 degrees. Huh. Well I guess that ends that experiment.
Slathered with sunscreen and me with a #8 Tussle Spider on, we move down river to The Green Mile. This is an atypical section of the river that runs dead straight for about 1 mile. I suggest that Jaz try the Sun Pool (so named for its lack of shade) and I keep moving, trying my best not to disturb the pool as I pass it.
The beginning of Green Mile Pool has me putting my fins on and climbing into the float. It’s a notable downgrade from wade fishing, with less control and low to the water but still better than a kayak. As soon as I start finning out into the pool I realize that the north/south orientation of The Green Mile aligns perfectly with the direction of the wind, creating a wind tunnel effect with us on the far end of a gale coming from the south.
No problem, I can handle it.
The float requires me to keep finning non-stop just to hold my position. I start working the east bank side casting low under the branches. I pick up numbers 15 through 19 in a relatively protected area of where the pool begins. Number 20 was a nice 10” Redbreast that gave me a really good fight.
Jaz moves into the pool and takes the west bank. The Sun Pool was a bust for her. We are just now discovering that shade is the single most critical factor today for finding fish. At least for finding fish that are willing to bite.
She says that she’s at 10 fish so I propose that her goal should be 50 fish for the day. I accept her silence as concurrence to the challenge.
Unfortunately for Jazmin the west bank offers little in the way of shade and her catches come slowly. I have even worse luck even though my side is loaded with fish, the wind is absolutely howling and for some reason I become more exposed the further down river I go.
I am casting forehanded using a sidearm technique to keep the line low but the wind is blowing the line back into me, wrapping it around me. I spend all of my time untangling the line, and drifting backwards in the wind as I focus on that task.
Slow, deep breaths. ..”I will not lose my temper to frustration…”
I try switching to an overhead cast. My line doesn’t hit me but it ends up on a large rock downwind of me instead. My fly is snagged securely on the top; so I have to straight pull it until the tippet breaks, losing the fly.
I unclench the teeth, close my eyes and breathe, “Dammit”.
I tie on a Super Cypret’s Minnow (a modification to the original design to improve its durability) thinking I’d like to increase my odds to catch bass in this deeper water. Unfortunately the lack of weight and extra wind resistance makes for a bad combination. Despite my low side-armed backhand casting the fly consistently lands on the water well downwind of the flyline. I spend all my time retrieving the fly from tree branches.
“Fuck this Goddamn wind!”
Yeah, so I am pissed off. All of my zen is depleted leaving nothing but seething frustration. Jaz calls over and says she is having no luck with the shadeless bank and wants to know where the next pool is. Frustrated, I am considering going back early instead of finishing the planned trip. I tell her to come to my side take half of what’s left in this pool.
I switch flies again, selecting the Flying Cat. It’s actually too heavy a fly for a 000 weight rod to cast well, but the clunky casting ends up being a good tradeoff for regaining some control in my accuracy. In fact, I pull in number 21 right away, another 10” Redbreast. With my new found system of low side-armed backhand casting the Flying Cat, I begin to enjoy myself again.
By the time Jaz and I meet up at the end of the pool I am up to 38 fish and she is at 17. Quite a few of our catches were 10” Redbreasts. We sip some water and munch a little trail mix before deciding to continue on to the pull out some 2.5 miles downriver.
The Green Mile Rock Garden is next, offering a handful of little shaded spots under individual trees. We both pick up a few fish as we pass through. By the time it opens up to the Green Mile Run I am at 52 fish.
The Green Mile Run is another perfect wading situation. The river is shallow with the exception of the few feet next to the west bank. There is abundant shade thanks to overhanging tree coverage. We begin leapfrogging each other working under the trees with Flying Cats. The Redbreasts are the common catch but we also manage 7 Rios between us during this stretch.
The best catch from the Green Mile Run happens near its end. Jazmin’s 0 weight rod doubles over and she quickly switches over to the reel, letting the fish take line in long runs. After a couple of runs, it starts with acrobatics, making several consecutive jumps. Finally it decides to give in and Jaz lips a beautiful 16” Guadalupe/Hybrid Bass.
By the time we finish The Green Mile, I have 82 fish and Jaz is at 37. It was only mid-afternoon and we are both feeling pretty cocky about reaching our goals. Especially since Horseshoe Pool is just ahead.
We top off our floats with the hand pump (my float especially needs it as it has a slow leak that I’ve never been able to find) before climbing in them. Horseshoe Pool is a really deep section and impossible to wade. But here the wind is close to negligible so the float tubes work much better than earlier.
Once again we leapfrog each other but this time in floats. We start racking up fish again in short bursts of catches. For a while neither of us will even get a hit and then one of us will pull in 2 or 3 fish in a row. About halfway through the pool I hook into number 95 in deep water, about 8 feet from the bank.
“Fish on!”
The fish immediately begins stripping out line. I lose so much that I don’t recover any from reeling in before it hits the clicker. “Zeeeeeeeee!” cries out the little reel as the fish tears off deep into the pool. I figure it’s either a catfish or a carp, and pretty good sized.
Before too long I can see the unmistakable shape of a catfish when I work it close to my float. It makes several more hard runs before I am able to convince it to surrender.
The nice Channel Catfish measures at 19” and takes the title of “Catch of the Day” from Jaz’s Guadalupe Bass. This is unusual, typically I catch more fish but Jazmin catches the fish that ranks as the “Catch of the Day”. But hey, it is Father’s Day right?
I can’t resist the jab and turn to remind her that she had better hurry up and top my catch if she plans to keep the title. Someday I’ll learn to keep my mouth shut.
Minutes later we are working opposite banks and I hear her call out. Her 0 weight rod is doubled over and she believes she has a large bass. From the bend in her rod I surmise that the bass is likely no larger than the Guad she caught earlier. Just in case it is worthy of a photo, I fin my way over to her.
I’m still making my way over when she reaches down and lips the fish. Her face is perplexed and she asks, “What the hell is this?” Closing in I turn to look.
My jaw drops.
She is holding the largest sunfish I have ever seen outside of photos. The toad of a Redear Sunfish is only a little over 12” in length but massive in girth and weighs at least 2.5 pounds, probably more.
What’s more the little pig is simply quite beautiful with bold coloration and undamaged fins. There is no doubt that this is the Catch of the Day.
“Well played Jaz, well played indeed.”
I still need 5 fish to reach my goal of 100 and Jazmin needs another 9 to get to 50. We only have 30 minutes before we have to stop fishing and continue downriver to our pull out and meet our shuttle.
There is one thing still bothering me though. So far we have caught Redbreasts, Bluegills, Longears, a Redear, Smallmouths, a Guadalupe, Rios and a Catfish. But we haven’t got a single Largemouth Bass?
I find this unacceptable and decide to target bass for my last 5 fish. I switch to my super secret Hellgrawyrm fly, a crudely fashioned but still deadly prototype. I announce to Jaz my intentions. She has seen earlier versions of this fly in action and shares my confidence that as long as I don’t lose the fly I should catch at least 1 largemouth out of the 5 remaining fish with it.
There is a downed tree at the far end of the pool, a perfect hiding ground for largemouths. I approach carefully, casting so the brush is directly opposite my cast to reduce the chance of a bass taking my line into it.
On the second cast the line moves sideways even though I can’t feel anything. I set the hook and the fight is on with number 96. Immediately the bass comes up and shakes its head, revealing a decent largemouth as hoped for. He makes 2 nice runs then comes up and shakes again. This time the fly pops out and the bass swims away.
So, very, very sad -back to 95.
My sadness is short lived however; I reposition myself and cast to the exact same spot. This time the hit is not subtle and the fish makes a long deep run. After several deep runs I figure I have another, smaller catfish but to my joy number 96 reveals itself to be a nice 16” Largemouth Bass.
Within seconds of releasing the bass, Jaz calls out that she has a catfish that took the Tussle Spider. Her number 44 comes in at 12”, a lot of fun on her light rod.
With only minutes left, we are both working the shoreline quickly. I finished first; number 100 is a dink Redbreast – just like fish number 1 was. Jaz lands number 50 relatively quickly but we are now a few minutes late getting out of this location.
Moving quickly, we do not fish on the 1 mile egress to the pull out despite some interesting possibilities. I guess they will have to wait for a different day. We make it to the crossing where we are to meet our shuttle, break down our gear and relax. Our minds wander to thoughts of food now, and with phone reception regained we search for and find a great Tex-Mex restaurant less than 10 miles away.
Have you ever had a really good day – you know, the kind of day that went amazingly well despite everything that went wrong?
This was that day.
