Air Temp: low 80s
Weather Conditions: Sunny morning, cloudy afternoon
Wind: Calm morning, slight west wind afternoon
Clarity: Approx 2 ft
Approx CFS: 47
Rig(s): Orvis Helios 905-4 mid flex 5 wt, Hardy Demon 5000, Sci anglers Master Textured GPX WFF
Leader: 25-15-1x Fluoro. Approx 9.5 feet
Flies Used: Barry's Carp Bitter (Tan and olive), Ehlers' Grim Reaper (copper)
Hot Flies: The Carp Bitter got me two nice carp and a pile of sallies, but the Reaper got me potentially the largest Smallmouth I've ever caught
I got up early this morning, not really being able to sleep. I was going to pick up some friends around 9 am to hit the Olentangy, and after sticking a really nice smallie and seeing tons of carp yesterday, I was restless.
I beat my alarm out of bed, and that never happens, and definitely does not happen when work is on the other side of the alarm.
I went to the kitchen and whipped up an energy drink, grabbed my 5 wt reel, some flouro, a pair of clippers and headed outside to check the weather and tie on some fresh tippet.
Then I realized, it's only 7 am. Fuck. So I putzed around on Instagram a bit, checked Weather Underground, verified that the Corps of Engineers hadn't done a dump from the Delaware Reservoir, and just tried to kill time. Finally the wait got to be too much, and I hopped in the Jeep to go get the guys.
On my way out, in an attempt to kill more time, I took a drive by the river. Still looked great, a bit off color, but the flow was right on the money, and the sun was starting to hit the west bank.
Pulling into Mike's drive, I texted him, told him I was early, and to get his shit together. Luckily, he was up and ready to roll. We ran down to the basement to sort through his fly inventory really quick, he asking me whats working. "Dude, you only need two flies"...so he grabbed two boxes, and showed me some funky spun deer hair topwater thing that apparently is good on salmon. I saw no reason why a bass wouldn't eat it, so he stuck it in a pocket. We finally loaded up, picked up George, and rolled out
Dats a lotta shit. Amazing the stuff that piles up for a day trip
I checked the clock. 8:45. In what I can only describe as a minor miracle, I got two dudes notorious for being late for everything out of their houses on time.
The ride over consisted of the usual banter; what leaders, what flies, what have you been catching (they don't follow me on Instagram). I gave them the basics; long leaders, crayfish, and pretty much anything that swims in that river. I gave them a basic rundown of carp techniques since neither had really fished them before. I went on a salt trip with them, so they seemed to pick up on the concepts pretty quickly.
Turning down the access road, I saw another truck in my typical put in. I scanned the water for the angler, but he or she was nowhere in sight. Good, I thought. Probably headed south like most people do.
We geared up, and George informed me that he forgot his floating line, and only had an intermediate. Shit. And I left my goodie bag full of reels and rods at home. With some on the fly (get it) thinking, I rigged him a long mono leader to keep the fly riding higher and keep his proper line out of the rocks and hooked him up with a slow sinking fly. I told him "You're going to get hung up, but to make it less of a pain in the ass, as soon as that fly lands, start stripping, and only about 4 strips then re cast". He seemed good with that approach, we closed up the jeep and moved out.
George's Gandalf the Grey wading staff from PA always comes out on the water. George is also rocking the old school Orvis pack vest. He was ditching the old vests before it was cool.
I had tied up my go to, Barry's Carp Bitters in rust/tan, but had no intention of casting in the first leg of the stretch. I pointed out prime lies to the guys, threw a couple demo casts to show retrieve styles that have been working and let them have at it. I was more interested in carp today anyway, and I figured I'd let them fish the smallies and whiteys while I pushed ahead.
Mikey and G, working the seams
I got up to where I typically start seeing carp, but got distracted by a smallie busting bait in between a few rocks. I fired a cast out to him, and he slammed it, and I slammed him back...too hard. i launched the poor little guy directly at me, creating about 25 feet of slack between me and him. He shook the fly in no time and was off to sulk somewhere in the boulder pile.
A little disheartened at blowing the first fish of the day, I turned upstream to see a nice long dark shadow cruising in the silty backwater off the main current.
Definitely carp. Definitely happy. Definitely catchable.
I began my casting routine, threw two back casts, and right as my delivery stroke was airborne and shooting out of the guides, the fish suddenly accelerated up stream, and the fly landed well behind him.
Shit, I blew it. The fly settled and I began stripping the line back in to shorten up so I wasn't ripping line off the water spooking fish left and right.
Thats when the oddest thing happened. I have often said that Olentangy carp behave more "predatory" than some of their brethren that live in still waters or sandy bottomed rivers. This fish was no exception.
I am not sure if he caught a glimpse of the dirt puffs my fly was throwing up, or he felt it in his lateral line, but he turned on a dime from about tn feet upstream of my offering and started tracking my fly down with what I can only describe as bass like tenacity. "Oh shit!"
I stopped the fly
He slowed. I let it sit like crayfish sometimes do when they know they are in deep shit and have nowhere to run.
He approached slowly. I saw his attitude change. the head went down, and I twitched the fly.
Strip...a little tension...strip a LOT of tension
"He fuckin ate it"
Now, everyone always says that "the tug is the drug". I totally get that. Few things can beat a 20 inch brown rocketing from cover to t-bone a 6 inch articulated contraption, or a largemouth smoking a frog pattern in the grass, but the split second AFTER the tug...that is why I fish for carp.
I grabbed hard and ripped my line hand back as far as I could, slamming the fly home, feeling the line stretch as the hook point found it's mark. As I swept the rod sideways and it doubled over, the water swelled and then a tail the size of my fist smashed the surface. All hell broke loose.
I had to work to keep the fish out of the current, but this wasn't my 8wt, and I knew I needed to get him on the reel where I had the drag dialed up to "holy shit". I began the delicate process of paying out line to protect the tippet as he lunged but still putting enough hurt on him with the rod to keep him from reaching the current, and trying to take up slack with the reel. It has to be one of the most awkward things to witness in fly fishing. A guy stumbling back and fourth over broken stumps on the bank freeing slack line from snags at his feet, alternately whooping for joy or cursing based on what the fish was doing, trying to do what you basically need three hands to do with only two.
He darted out towards the current and managed to take up the rest of my slack line. Yes, finally on the reel. Now I could focus on fighting this fish with an actual plan as opposed to trying to just manage him in a panic.
River carp may not be enormous, but holy hell are they strong. He pulled on the drag and I could feel the bend into the handle, giving me the business for a few minutes until I finally got him in net range. A couple more last ditch half hearted lunges and it was over.
He may look skinny here, but he was round, and all muscle. A golden torpedo
I held up the slimy golden goodness to show the guys down stream.
"Thats how you start the motherfuckin DAY!"
Pretty sure I heard a faint "oh, fuck you" from Mike as I slipped the fish back into the water at the tail of the pool and he swam off.
I was still shaky, I called the boys up to the carp pool and let them fire away at it, since somehow, there were still fish laid up in there. They got a couple looks and rejections here and there. Mike tied on the spun deer hair turd looking fly and whipped it into the current. A bass came up and swung at it, but Mike missed, much to his dismay. There was a creative string of curse words that followed.
I took a dry creek bed north to get on the other bank, giving them prime casting positions, and me a crack at a nice deep pool Julie found a couple trips ago.
I set up across from them, with about 12 inches of line out of the tip just flipping my fly into the falls, letting it sink and slow stripping it as it went through the pool.
"Dude, are you sight fishing to something over there?" George asked
"Yeah, theres always a half dozen cruising these two pools."
He watched me repeat the flip, sink, strip routine about two dozen times, probably trying to figure out if I was just seeing things.
Stripping slowly, the line got tension, and I struck. hard. Fish on!
Nope. Rock. Hung up smack in the middle of the pool. I hoped upstream to break off without scaring the shit out of everything down there, tied on an olive carp bitters and went at the flip routine again.
"I'm telling you, they are down here."
Strip...striiip....thunk.
"There he is!". Had to have been like my fiftieth cast.
Ramming the hook home, he came straight up, jumped and I let him run downstream and take up the tiny bit of slack line at the reel. He worked his ass off trying to get me into the fly eating black hole these fish like to rest in, but I laid on him hard and kept him out. It is amazing how much pressure you can apply with a 5 wt and 1x.
I worked him out of the pool, and up onto a shallow and went for my net. He saw it, and was having none of it. I dropped the net and went at him again with the rod. Finally, he came to hand
He got a new piercing. Wonder if his parents will approve
Carp are pretty...sorta
Now, my brother in law was supposed to be here by now...actually an hour ago. I texted him and told him to just head upstream until he found us, and we pushed up to Smallieville.
I let the guys have first crack at it, Mike got a few more swipes on the Deer Hair Turd (not the real name, but thats what Im calling it). I pitched a carp bitter to the rocks and connected
Fought well above his weight class
After a few more little guys, I decided to throw a few hero casts up into the rock piles by the east bank.
First cast, a tick. Nothing. I picked up and put it right back, and a THUD. The line started darting all over the pool. The fish came up head shaking, revealing that this was a much nicer specimen.
About as big as the new Olentangy best I stuck the day before
About this time, Mike and George had to take off, so we started heading back. Still no sign of Joe (brother in law).
We rounded a bend, and all of a sudden, theres Joe.
Well, looks like I'm getting two trips today. I told joe to hang out and fish for a bit while I drove the guys home and I'd be back.
We got up to the car, I popped the boot off my driving foot, hopped in the jeep waders and all and dropped them off.
About 15 minutes later I was back on the water for round 2
By this time the weather had shifted. The sun was gone, and the wind kicked up.
Fishing a nice area, I heard a crash and splash and saw a yellow jeep come flying out of the woods
"Hey man, want to get the kayaks?"
"Nah, fuck it. Lets just take the jeep"
These guys then proceeded t prop some lawn chairs in the current and crack open a few beers. Not something you see every day
I had switched over to Ehlers' Grim Reaper at this point, trying to snag into something mean and hungry. I turned back downstream, and pitched the fly onto a rock ledge, let it settle, turned to Joe and said
"I think something shut the bite down"
Strip Strip
The fly gets eaten, and I'm eating my words
I didn't have a scale, but this is a heavy fish. Possibly a new best
Smallmouth are incredible fighters, and it is always a blast tangling with some of the meatier ones. They just flat out don't give up, jumping, tail walking, head shaking like a tarpon, darting for every rock in the pool. They really test your fish fighting chops, especially when wading, and make their bucket mouthed cousins seem flat out lazy when it comes to raw fighting ability.
After that, I hung it up. Spent some time trying to get Joe on some carp, to no avail.
A solid cap to the weekend.
As I write this, its pouring. The O will be blown for a while, but the getting was good while it lasted.
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