The 1 WT Wait...

...is over.

The shiners here get pretty big. Of course, I had to do the rod and reel shot.

I have been procrastinating, but finally got myself to finish the 1 WT I bought some months back. I just got into rod building and its given me a reason to play with different rod sizes and lengths. I loved the way my 8 WT (my main carp rod) turned out, so I had high hopes for a rod of the other end of the weight spectrum.

You'll probably think I'm crazy, but I took the 1 WT rod out to test its limits at my favorite smallmouth/largemouth creek . The weather was great. Stepping into that water for the first time in over a month was a great feeling. After every hard rain, the creek bed changes, so it's always a new experience. I almost never fish the area above my drop-in point, but access to it was easy and it looked like a GREAT spot. My guess was right, having caught both the biggest largemouth and biggest smallmouth of the day right off the bat. I must've fished that stretch for a good 40 minutes. A 1 1/2 pound smallmouth gave me the best fight. Almost ripped the rod out of my hand!

The walk down usually takes a couple of hours. I almost always turn back after my favorite spot: the waterfall. There's not much fish around, but that's really not the focus here, is it? The water is always icy cold, a welcomed feeling after wading in the summer heat. Right before reaching the waterfall, I stopped to re-rig. I spent a minute setting up, then noticed I had a few visitors, though I think they weren't there to see me.

Damselfly "party"

I had a great time working that 1 WT, though I don't think it appreciated me taking it out to catch those hefty fish when it would've probably wanted to go out the the mountains for wild Brookies. Honestly, I'll be fishing the creek far more often than any mountain streams, and although it sounds crazy, that 1 WT is now  my go-to creek rod. Its short length is perfect for casting with trees behind me. I have always been a light tackle guy, so it's not much of a surprise that I came to this decision.

The smallest thing I've ever caught on a fly.

A fiberglass rod from Cabela's came in the other day. I can't wait to take it out for trout tomorrow. New rods always get their first test on the water at the Caney Fork River. My favorite stretch has many different kinds of water, so there are lots of techniques to use, making it the perfect rod testing water. Hopefully, I'll have some pics.

Tight lines and fair hooks.

The results are in

Well, 4th place isn't too bad. My total pounds for the month was a humble 163.39 lbs. I say humble because the top guy had over 450! We got together at Fly South for the banquet on August 1st. I have only been fly fishing for a little over 2 years, so I don't know very many people in the fly fishing community. A bunch of great guys. I am happy to say that I left that night feeling much more confident as an angler.

It was a fun month: Both parents visiting; two separate vacations from work; fishing my arms off. The weather made the second half of my month a challenge. I put up a lot of fish in the beginning, but failed to consistently catch during the last two weeks. And I did it all without catching an actual carp!

My final fish of the tournament

Now that the tourney is over, I know not what to do with myself. I've gone out for trout a couple of times. I'm working on building a new batch of rods for myself and some friends. The heat is still here...and my propensity for the hard fighting bottom feeders is calling me back to the muddy grounds I walked so many times last month.

Tight lines and fair hooks

Rain...

Dad just flew out on Sunday morning. Not the week of fishing I was thinking it was going to be. After a month of drought, it decided to rain the ENTIRE time he was here. He caught a couple of fish, but he insisted I continue my progress, and enjoyed spotting me while I fished for the mighty Buffalo...in the rain.

My first Redhorse of the tournament

It's gonna take a lot of fish to stay in a top spot. One guy just blew my lead by 80 pounds. With just a day left in my vacation, I have to get on as many fish as I can.

This past Sunday, after dropping dad off, I decided to take a break from carp fishing, mainly because the muddy water needed a day to settle.  Although the fishing wasn't terribly great like the past two times I've gone to the Caney Fork, my friend and I managed to each get a Caney Grand Slam - Brown, Brook and Rainbow Trout.

Tight lines and fair hooks

Today is the Day

I had a great 2 hours of fishing today. The fish weren't quite awake when I arrived. I didn't see a buffalo or redhorse during the entire first half of my walk. I got to the pool right before the I-40 bridge, the pool that had given me many fish over the last two weeks...not even a bluegill. A guy across the river asked, "Are there any trout here?" I replied, "No. It's too hot right now." He looked puzzled. "But....that's a trout pole. What are you trying to catch?" I paused. "I can catch ANYTHING with this. I'm going for carp today."

I walked under the bridge and out onto the dirt path. Still, I saw no fish. Finally, before having to climb the few downed trees in my way, I hooked a small buffalo. I landed it quickly, and it let me know by splashing mud across my shirt. Almost 4 pounds. A decent start to the day.

After releasing the first fish of the day, I climbed over the last two downed trees and had finally reached the spot, the buffalo/carpsucker mecca. I spooked more fish than I care to admit, but finally got a good sized one to devour my size 16 pink worm, My Pink Thing. Instead of getting the first run out, it just sat there. I felt like I was pulling in a cinder block. It did this, running for only a few yards at a time, for over 15 minutes. A crowd started to form on the running path above the area I fished. I wondered what they were thing. "Is that a fly fisherman catching rough fish?"

 After nearly half an hour of what seemed like a stalemate, it finally made its move, the first true run. It took nearly all of my fly line out. I reeled it back in. That made it mad. The second run left me staring at bright white backing. It sat, again, in the deep waters across the river. I finally had to change arms. Lactic acid in my entire arm had left my wrist frozen in place. I switched hands several times. It ran up and down the river, and I ran up and down the muddy bank.

Nearly 50 minutes of fighting, and it finally stopped resisting. I quickly pulled it to the water's edge, and stopped. My eyes widened. I had to take a breath or two as I gazed at the beauty. This fish was stout. The biggest fish of the year so far was looking back at me, exhausted and wondering what I'd do next. I took the proper measurements, then decided not to put any more stress on the big buffalo, releasing it to live another day.

another 11 pounder

Before leaving, I went back to my usual perch below the dam. I spooked a few redhorse and hooked a crappie or two. I made one last scan of the water to my left, noticing a small Drum tailing. Fly South had recently posted the new leader, 0.71 pounds, of the "Smallest Fish" category for this year's Carp Tournament. At 0.48 pounds, I believe I am now a new contender.

Yet another victim of My Pink Thing

Today is the day. My dad will be in town for a little over a week. I haven't seen him in a year. I haven't fished with him in a year. An experienced saltwater fisherman, he hopes to tackle the many species of freshwater fish Tennessee has to offer. I will be giving him the task of catching 20 different species of fish during his stay. He wants to taste Crappie. I want him to catch a Grad Slam at the Caney Fork. Whatever the outcome, it will be an enjoyable week of non-stop fishing with the most important influence in my life. And maybe, just maybe, I will finally be able to teach HIM a thing or two about fishing.

Tight lines and fair hooks.

Day 4 - 4th of July.

The sun beat me into submission. I fished for 2 hours, sun beaming directly down the entire time. I could barely make it up the stairs when I got home. I passed out for 5 hours. It probably didn't help that I didn't have a lunch, nor did I drink any water before or during my trip.

The carp were spooking at the near thought of me today. I could barely get a glimpse at one before it darted off. I walked nearly my entire stretch of river before I landed one. I hit it from a good distance, barely seeing it take my size 16 fly. The sun didn't seem to effect the strength of that fellow. It still had plenty of fight left in it after getting landed.

I walked all the way back up to my usual perch before hitting another one. I lost my hook sharpener yesterday, and both of my main flies were dull. I switched over to an olive woolly bugger because the water was slightly higher than it's been in a while. Crappie. Catfish. The usual fish in the usual spot. I walked ahead, casting into the same deep pool, but from a different angle. Wham! A drum hit it. They always make my day me when I hook them on a blind cast.It was big, for me. Probably 4-5 pounds. It came off right before landing. I was crushed.

I quickly cast back into the same spot and was immediately rewarded with another drum. Probably less than a pound. It shook loose. Again, I recast back into the spot. For a third time, a drum hit it. I was lucky to have landed that one. A little under a pound. Nothing to write home about, but it adds to my total weight, and I dare say it was one of the nicer drums I've caught. It had a peacock tint to its top half.

Happy 4th. Tight lines and fair hooks.

Day 3

First one of the day - 11 lbs.

I started off my day wondering if it was going to be fruitful. I looked out of my living room window; the glass reflected a slight shade of grey . An endless field of clouds blanketed the sky. I grabbed my rod and bag, and headed out.

My first catch was the biggest of the day. Another great fighting carp. It, along with the two others I landed, looked tired and sore. The heat is getting to all of us.

 The clouds rolled out before I landed my next fish. The sun, in addition to the worst humidity in a while, beat me almost to submission. Good thing I went before the real heat of midday arrived.

I spent the next  hour missing or spooking nearly every carp is saw. A giant sat in front of a downed tree. It quickly became suspicious of the fly presented in front of it. That big missus is at the top of my most wanted list. I think her mouth gaped wider that the girth of fish #2. Maybe next time, milady.

I walked down my usual stretch, then made my way back up. The very last fish I crept upon was a small drum I've met on several occasions. It has marks on its back. It had survived being caught by something before. And after our encounter, it survived again. Not quite ugly enough, but its currently my only chance at placing in the 'Ugliest Fish' category of Fly South's 11th Annual Carp Masters Tournament.

I work tomorrow. I'll be getting out in early afternoon. How will I be spending my 4th of July? Take a wild guess...

Tight lines and fair hooks.

Carp, Carp, Carp

First carp...a day early.

Day 1 of Fly South's Carp Masters Tournament has ended. I jumped the gun yesterday, taking this picture of my "first" carp, not realizing that it was June 30th. Let's consider that a practice catch.

It was 102 degrees when I got to my usual spot below the Percy Priest Dam. As I made my way down to the water, I barely reached my usual perch as I had noticed a feeding carpsucker in the pool below. The fly I had just tied on was a new one for me - a size 6 palmer hackle woolly bugger. Ive been dying to try that palmer hackle, and having just picked some up two days ago, I thought the carp would be a good bunch to present it to. The carpsucker never knew what hit him, and he swam back and forth in the pool, dazed and confused as to why this piece of food had given him such a jolt. A good fight. A good way to officially start the tournament.

Carp #1

I let the carp go and turned to the pool to my right. The "must cast to" spot. I was rewarded, first cast, with a little crappie. Then another. Then another. I love seeing just their mouths open from the depths of that pool. To my surprise, I caught a little 5 inch catfish in that spot, too. Good fun, but I needed to get back to the carp.

Winds and the occasional cloud broke my concentration, so I made my way down to where the wind couldn't reach the water.

My Pink Thing on its lip

I switched over to My Pink Thing. The carp were very shy today, spooking at any noise or disturbance, so I decided to retire the palmer hackle fly for the day. This was the first carp to fall victim to...My Pink Thing.


Foul hooking carp happens. Where I fish for them, it happens more often than I'd ever prefer. The carp and all other related species in that section below the dam are the spookiest bunch I've ever encountered, occasionally foul hooking when I cast too close or when the leader line swings in their escape path. I do what I can to slack my line in the hope that my barbless hook shakes off. This gorgeous specimen, I believe to be called a Highfin Carpsucker, darted off when I plopped my fly too close to him, catching its dorsal fin on the hook. It wouldn't come off, so I landed it quickly, taking a picture simply to record such a beautiful fish.

No placard for this foul hooked fish.

Last fish of the day...and what a way to end it. It hasn't been the crazy running carp year like it was last year. This guy was my first true runner of the year, nearly taking me into my backing. The section of river was deeper than anywhere else I've fished up till that point, and he made use of the wide open space. Good fight. It left my leader fully caked with slime as we battled left and right, up and down the long, deep swim. I landed it right beforethe time I had planned on leaving. What a great way to part with the river on day 1 of my first Carp Masters Tournament.

26 inches of muscle

Day 1 is in the books. I feel like I'm off to a good start. The fish, although on nerves more than usual, have been taking well placed flies pretty readily. I am hoping my luck continues. A special guest arrives this weekend. Luckily for me (and especially for him), we will be fishing all day, every day. Carping should continue, though we'll probably try for trout at the Caney Fork and some bassin'. Hopefully, the sun backs off a little and gives us some tolerable weather.

Tight lines and fair hooks

July Means One Thing: Carp Masters Tournament

It was hot today. HOT. 109 degrees to be exact. A record for Nashville. And I, like a fool, sought to satisfy my fly fishing urge in the heat of midday.


I lasted an hour and a half before throwing in the towel. Not a long time, i know, but it was an enjoyable 90 minutes. A drum met me as I stood at my usual perch below the Percy Priest Dam. I didn't even need time to scan the water. It fed at only a rod's length in front of me, and I took the opportunity. Dapping my size 6 olive woolly bugger into Mr. Drum's feeding zone, I was presented with my first catch.



If I had to choose one word to describe my experience below the dam this year, it would be this: lucky. There has not been a day that I haven't left the place with my head held high. Today would continue my success.



Immediately after releasing Mr. Drum, my following cast targeted the "must cast to" spot, and I was rewarded for my faith. Crappie are always in the depths of this dark pool. This one actually let me see it follow my fly before engulfing my woolly bugger into the depths of its mouth. For anyone scoffing at fishing in 109 degree weather, there's your proof. Fish are always around. YOU just have to be around to catch 'em.

If my first catch was Mr. Drum, this would have to be the missus. Pretty...for a Drum. And at this point, I had caught 3 fish within 5 casts, within 5 minutes. Lucky. She took the same woolly bugger as the last two fish - the same exact fly that had led me to my first Caney Fork Grand Slam a day before. Both of the Drum had a particularly oily slime today. Not pleasant, though I did take a moment to appreciate this one's color. Pretty....for a Drum.


After my first string of good luck, I spent the next half hour pretty much doing what I usually do below the Percy Priest Dam. No, not that (locals will get the joke), but I did spook every species of bottom feeder for the whole stretch until shortly before the I-40 bridge. A pool held a group of carp, and I decided to see if my luck would turn for the better. This time it did. I cast to the right one, not looking all that big, and it took a big gulp. I might also mention that I had changed flies at that point, turning to my number one carp pattern of the year, My Pink Thing. That little guy has been catching just as many species of fish as any woolly bugger, though it was intended to be a high visibility carp fly.

This Carpsucker FOUGHT. From the water, it didn't look as big as it really was, nor did its first few minutes of lackadaisical fighting lead me to believe it would end in a battle taking over 20 minutes. I nearly landed it in 10, but it got the first of a handful of second winds and darted back to the other end of the pool. Another 10 minutes later and we were both ready to call it in. And that's exactly what I did after releasing my biggest catch of the day.

After a day like today, I am excited. I am excited because I will be entering my first Carp Masters Tournament at the local fly shop, Fly South. They host it every year for the month of July. I have followed it for the two years I have been practicing this sport, and now feel like I have the confidence to throw my name in the hat. Will you join?

Exodus

When I left Hawaii in 2008, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Without going into detail, life did not go according to plan. Although I had many reasons to move back home, I still felt the need to stay in Tennessee.

This month marks the second year since I discovered the art of fly fishing. It takes up a vast majority of my free time, as there are many avenues in which to explore. From casting, to fly tying, to rod building, to Entomology...the list goes on. With an endless amount of knowledge left to learn, I suppose I am starting this blog to share what I learn in my everyday fly addiction.

Dad-Oct 2010

Me-Oct 2010 (my biggest Largemouth)

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

-Thank you, Dad, for teaching me to fish.