For the last several weeks I have been indulging a mild obsession. I’m not referring to fly fishing per se, although that is the root of it, but more to a challenge I set for myself. Let me explain.
At the beginning of June I was up near the little town of Erin, fishing the Credit as usual. If you’ve read previous posts you’ll know that this is my favourite due to the healthy brook trout population. Small but abundant, these fish are always ready to provide a good day on the water. This day was no exception, as I had landed and released a good dozen or so ranging from 6 – 9 inches and it was still early in the day.
I had been fishing from the bank, in a spot just in front of a big pool, and cast into an area that was sheltered by an overhanging tree. This was not as easy as it sounds: It was a 50 foot cast that I had to do in a backhand motion due to the surrounding foliage, and also had to be very precise to hit the exact location I wanted with my cast. Nevertheless, I was having good success with my placement and dropped a fly precisely under the tree, just inside the shadow it created. I stripped the line once to imitate a struggling insect, and it was hit hard.
I reeled in the fish quickly at first, to get it away from the sunken trees in the stream, and then took care not to pull it in too soon, to make sure I didn’t pull the hook and to also ensure the fish wasn’t over stressed with the fight. As I got it to the bank, I tried to lift my rod to keep tension on the line but could not do it because I was also under overhanging trees. Since I couldn’t net the fish, I just swung it up as best I could to the bank. Then I looked down at a 14 inch brook trout on the grass in front of me. I removed the hook and didn’t even have to return it to the water, as it was only about a foot from the water’s edge. It flopped once or twice, and it made it back to the water, paused for a brief moment, and swam away. It was the largest brook trout I’ve ever caught (previous best was 12 inches) and it felt great! My only regret was that I didn’t get a picture.
I kept casting to the pool in the same manner, but knowing my space limitations I decided to get my net ready in case there was another big one lurking in there. It was fortunate that I did, because a few casts later I pulled in a 14 inch rainbow trout! This time I had the net ready and was able to grab a picture.
I stayed out for another hour, playing the same pool, but though I caught several 6 and 8 inchers, I didn’t land another big one.
On my way back to the car, I took a vantage point on the bank that let me see into the pool, and to my amazement there were several other large fish, brook and rainbow, and one brook trout looked to be about 16 inches long! These aren’t found in Southern Ontario very often, so to find a spot where they live was like finding the Lost Duchman’s Mine! Thus began the obsession, and the subsequent challenge.
I went back to the spot the following week, and after a few casts I hooked another large brook trout. As I reeled it in, I got it to within 6 feet of me and then it got away. When I looked at my line, the fly was gone, so it either broke my line, or my knot gave out, probably the latter. Half an hour later, I hooked another, again a large brook trout. I played this one for about 5 minutes, but it managed to get into the sunken logs. This was my fault, because I had been fishing behind one of the logs and when I reeled in the fish the log was in my direct path. The fish went underneath the log and came up the other side, about 6 feet from me, but my line was preventing it from swimming any further. As I moved closer to try and negotiate the log and get my line free, the fish escaped. Kudos to it, the smart little bastard! Both of these fish were at least as big as the previous two that I landed.
Over the next couple of weeks I revisited the spot, but couldn’t replicate my previous success. I landed the usuals, 6- 8 inch brooks, but the big ones weren’t playing anymore. Then finally a week ago, I went back and stood in my vantage point, but there were no large fish to be seen, and there was an empty styrofoam container for worms. I walked the bank upstream, and found a second container. This saddened me; someone had been using bait in an area where live bait is prohibited, in other words they were poaching. Secondly, they left their trash behind. I cleaned up the empty containers, and played the water for a few hours, but thinking about the poachers took all the fun out of it, so I went home, and haven’t gone back since.
I will check it out near the end of the year, and know that fish will return to it, but for now I’ll be travelling around a little to other locations to try my luck.
Come Fly With Me 