Rotten Spawn Sacs, Tattered Flies and Leaky Waders

Pennsylvania - An Exercise in Self Indulgence

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 08:45:00 PST

Early October Steelhead

The definition of self indulgence is the excessive indulgence of one's own appetites and desires. I'll admit I eat, breath and shit steelhead. It's the only fish I pursue and if I won the lottery, I would build a log cabin on the upper Grand and live the life of a fishing hermit. One indulgence is Pennsylvania and over the years, I've fished it more to expand my steelhead palette. The only differences between Pennsylvania and Ohio is the size of the streams and the number of fish. PA's streams are much smaller and the number of fish in them can be mind boggling when compared to Ohio.

When I moved to Ohio in 1998, I stuck to fishing the Chagrin and Grand rivers as I lived in Lake county. I was still on the learning curve as I spent countless hours learning both rivers. After a couple of years, I moved to the western suburbs of Cleveland and it was the Rocky and Vermilion rivers. I content with fishing those streams, but when ever they blew out, I was basically stuck at home, patiently waiting for the water to recede.

During that time, I meet people and talked about the fishing, the word Pennsylvania came up a lot. I heard a lot of glowing and not so glowing reports of the fishery across the state line. My curiosity got the better of me and one of the first things I did was I got John Nagy's book Steelhead Guide - Fly Fishing Techniques and Strategies for Lake Erie Steelhead. Nagy is guide from Pennsylvania and a lot of the book is devoted to his state's streams. The book was pretty well straight forward and I came to the conclusion that even a idiot could have a great day on their streams. I booked off some time and downloaded some maps and made the drive to the Elk. I heard several people tell me that a campground named Folly's was a great place to fish, plus it had a fly shop on the grounds. I stopped a tackle shop called Poor Richards and talked to the owner gleaning anything that would give me the upper hand. I purchased a three day licence since I was staying in town for 3 days. I checked in a hotel off of I-90 and charted out my plan of action.

Fishing the "Tubes"

When I arrived the next morning, I found the creek was small. It reminded me of the small brook trout creeks I use to fish north of Sudbury when I was younger. The only difference was instead of muskeg, granite and alders. There was mud, shale and maples. The creek was on the verge of clearing as the shallow section were slightly chalky tint and the deeper water had a very greenish color. I remember reading in the book, the green color was from the suspended clay particles in the water. That also meant whenever the water was considered green it was prime and that's where the fish usually hold. I consider myself to a have a great eye when it comes to reading water. The first spot was a riffle that spilled into a section that ran along a small shale wall. Off the seam was about 15yds of dark green water that provided cover for steelhead.

I tied on a #12 white sucker spawn and casted out along a seam. I mended the line and watched the indicator bob along the current - nothing. I made some adjustments and casted out again a little farther and watched the indicator stop dead in its tracks. I quickly set the hook and felt the rod throb hard - my first PA steelhead. It wasn't large maybe a couple of pounds. I continued to work the creek downstream catching fish in nearly every spot and after my first day, I caught 20 fish. I wondered if the water was higher and more turbid and fishing sacs, I probably would of done better. The next two days it got progressively more difficult was the stream gradually turned crystal clear. I didn't even need glasses as I could see the cuts and ledges in the shale stream bottom. Deep water was virtually non existent and I could see fish hugging the bottom trying their best to blend in. The number of fish caught dropped and I had to use very small patterns and light leaders. It was stealth fishing at it's worst. For the record, I hate fishing low and clear unless it's for carp.

The "Nut" and the crowd is light

PA steelheading has a love and hate relationship with many of my fellow steelheaders. Their creeks hold numbers bordering on the fish in a barrel category. It can be so easy that a first time angler with no prior experience can catch a decent number of fish especially when conditions are prime. Those few outings during prime condition can inflate the head of the newbie steelheader. Then a reality check smacks them upside the head the next outing when conditions are low and clear and the newbie goes home empty handed. That's how Pennsylvania's streams generally run gin clear and low. In some cases there is no where for fish to hide. I've seen 30 to 50 fish just hold off the bottom and virtually ignore every offering thrown to them. It's tough to go from a lot of fish to very little, because the fish can see you and in most cases they're not interested because they been harassed within an inch of their lives.

The biggest complaint about Pennsylvania are the crowds and during the peak of the season it can be elbows and assholes. As with a lot of fish so comes a lot of anglers. They are all after the same thing and when conditions are low and clear or the weather warmer, sit back with a bag of popcorn and watch show called Da Nut. The Walnut or the Nut or the Wall of Nuts as it known to locals has the dubious distinction of being the armpit of steelheading on the Alley. It's the worst of the worst and you'll see the book of good manners floating downstream. It's not for the faint of heart or for the person with a short fuse. I fished it once many years ago when the Elk was still too high and I was waiting for the creek to drop. The nut itself was high and off color, but fishable. I started at the famous stop sign hole - the baptism by fire for the new steelheader. If you can survive the stop sign hole then you can pretty well fish anywhere. I managed to find a spot and I surprised that everybody worked well together. Like a well oiled machine, we casted at the same time, nobody crossed line and when ever a fish was on the line everybody pulled their lines out. I was very impressed and we were hitting fish at a good rate. That's until somebody walks in and starts crossing lines. The happy faces quickly turn to scowls. There were numerous times I wanted to bust the two guys on either side of me upside the head because they gave me a lot of grief. That was the ugly side of PA steelheading that I wanted nothing to do with. It turned out to be the only time I've fished the nut and I never been back since. Over the years I fished Pennsylvania but I never made it a major destination. By then, I was so familiar with the Ohio streams. The only time I would fish it was when our streams were blown or in early fall.

PA puddle fishing - the Nut of course

Then one day in late November of 2007 is a day I'll never forget. It was a Wednesday during my vacation week as all of the streams in Ohio were blown out. Not wanting to waste an entire week of sitting around, I had to find some water. According to the flow gauge, the Elk was still considered high. Since my options were limited, I had really no choice but to cross the border. Tuesday night, I probably tied over 100 sacs and crammed them into 3 containers. I drove early Wednesday morning and stopped at a tackle shop to purchase my licence. I waited in line and overheard the clerk telling some people that the Walnut was a better bet as the Elk was still too high. I left the store with a smirk and drove to the mid section of the creek.

The creek was running off color with a decent flow. There wasn't a car in the lot and it was the week of deer hunting season. It was a cold morning and the water temperature was hovering the upper 30s. It was barely first light and the first spot I fished was a small pool that eventually flatten out. The hole wasn't that large maybe 2o to 30 feet in length. I had my centerpin and uncured King salmon eggs. I started drifting along the seam and quickly got into fish. It wasn't an hour and I was all ready into double digits. I had this feeling I was going to have an amazing day. I was familiar with this section as I knew where all of the ledges and cuts were. Everything was in my favor - fresh aggressive fish that were unpressured, dirty water, excellent flow and not a soul in sight. In one pool, for every drift I caught one fish and I could called and make bets when the float went under. It was literally shooting fish a barrel. It wasn't even noon and I knew I was close to 40 fish. It made sense as I caught about 10 fish in the 4 spots I fished and I wasn't near the section that usually holds the mother load of fish. I eventually made it down there and the creek ran along a large towering section of cliffs. There were multiple ledges and pools that spanned nearly 200yds. It was the same results more fish as I couldn't contain my laughter. It was so mind boggling that I couldn't comprehend the number of fish stacked in the pools. None of my friends would believe me, they would call bullshit and demand proof on film.

I finally reach the last spot, a long shallow pool that was considered a go to spot. I was down to two dozen sacs and by then I lost count. I figured I was over 50 fish and I was determined to see how many more I could catch before dark. I remember hearing tales of people fishing in groups hitting the 100 mark under favorable conditions. I thought guys were pulling my leg, 100 fish in a small creek that is fished intensively from September to April - no way. I caught more fish and I was finally out of sacs. I looked at the time and it was 3:30, far too early to head home. Luckily, I brought my flies along as the creek over the day started to drop and clear. I started to use egg pattern such as sucker spawn, clown eggs, estaz eggs and blood dots. I would soak whatever juices were left at the bottom of the containers. I started to head back and the number of fish caught dropped. By the time I returned to the lot it was getting dark and I lost count, but it was a lot of fish, more then I've ever caught. It was a day that I'll never forget because I might never have a day like that again. It turned out that the season of 2008 was one of the best runs the Alley's had ever seen. After a day like that, I could torn up my Ohio licence and made the trip out every weekend, but I knew conditions like I had today were very rare - everything fell into place. To fish the Elk without people trying to crowd you out is unheard of. Within a couple of days the creek would be low and clear, the fish easily spooked and shy and the anglers numerous.

Pennsylvania is perfect for the angler who rarely gets the chance to go out and wants to get into big numbers of fish. With personal commitments and work, I've purchased an annual licence. It makes sense because it was another card in the deck and this season with all of the rain, Pennsylvania saved a lot of weekends that would of been spent at home. It's a destination that the Great Lakes steelheader should experience. Over the years, I've seen a lot of plates from Michigan, Ontario, New York and even Wisconsin. It's a very unique fishery and your elbow and shoulder will get a workout.

Winter Steelheading

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 06:52:00 PST

Lake effect squall

Winter can be the most challenging time of the year. Frigid winds, cold, ice, slush and bone chilling water will test even the hardiest steelheader. But it's the individual who is willing to subject themselves to those bitter elements are the ones that find success. When the cold weather hits, the number of people on the rivers drop and the winter steelheader can find spots with relative ease, even on the Rocky. The weather isn't for the faint of heart and the majority of anglers often wait for spring. I relish the winter months and I remember past trips of driving out east in squalls that swallowed the truck in front of me, walking through the woods blazing a trail in 3' of fresh snow, and chattering like a crazed chipmunk after standing in bone chilling water for hours- all for a fish. I've seen people walking along trails in the metro park and staring at me standing in the cold water, shaking their heads. For them, it goes beyond their understanding and I tell them it's a steelheader thing.

Braving the elements

The biggest foe for the winter steelheader is slush and ice. Slush also known as anchor ice will generally form in rivers during periods of extreme cold. Due to the motion of the water, ice cover may not form consistently, and the water will quickly reach its freezing point due to mixing and contact with the atmosphere. Ice platelets generally form very quickly in the water column and on submerged objects once conditions are optimal. Once this happens fishing can be difficult if not impossible. If there is enough space between blobs of slush then a successful drift can be done albeit short. If the river is choked in it, you'll be lucky to drop a bowling ball through it. Over the years, I've learned if the temperatures overnight are in the teens - stay in bed and wait until it warms up. If the sun is out, generally the slush will burn off by afternoon. Many times, I've drove through the metro park in the morning and watched guys trying in vain to fish only to watch their float land on top of a slush or get consumed by a large slush blob.

Side ice can also pose a problem as the best wintering holes can be covered over. Usually the fish will hide under the ice making it difficult to coax them out or drift right along the shelf. If the ice isn't thick, simply busting it up into sections and pushing it out will open up some water. For the angler looking to fish on side ice, they are playing a deadly game of chance. River ice is usually 15 percent weaker than pond or lake ice because underlying currents below can make it thinner then it appears. In the past, I did it a couple of times because I was desperate to catch fish, but I never felt comfortable doing it. Since then, I've stop doing because losing my life wasn't worth it. There is no such thing as 100% safe ice.


Waiting for the slush to burn off

Clothing can make your day enjoyable or down right miserable. I like to dress light because I often walk a lot. Even though it can be cold, I can break out in a sweat. For me nothing beats fleece because of wicking ability and retaining heat. For a typical winter outing, I wear a Under Armour base 2.0 crew shirt and leggings, Polartec 200 fleece pants and jacket, and polypropylene and wool socks. All of these provide warmth while keeping me dry. The only I will not wear are gloves when I'm fishing. I find gloves cumbersome and they are usually relegated in the back of my jacket and I only use them when walking from spot to spot. The most important piece to will make day enjoyable or a living hell are waders. There is no worst feeling when you your feet start getting wet due to leaks. Once your feet are wet, your screwed. After an hour the pain starts getting worse and after a while its intolerable. I've experienced a couple of times and it's not fun when the day has to be cut short because your feet are killing you.

Just like humans, fish react to the cold the same way- they don't like to move if they can help it. Since fish are cold blooded they prefer to seek out areas that don't have to expend a lot of energy to fight the current. Prime spots include tailouts, large deep pools, and any structure such as bridge supports, dams, downed trees, large rocks that deflect the current. But, I have seen steelhead leap out of the water when the water temperature was 34F and the air temperature was in the 20s. I had some fish fight like water logged boot and others rip off line. Despite cold water, there have been times when we've hit fish in big numbers in certain spots, you would of though it was October. These fish never cease to amaze me.

Winter Steelhead falling for a white sac

When comes to presentations I like to go big and bright. When your cold and lazy, you need something big and tasty to spark your interest. In past winters, the top bait for me was a large emerald shiner. Not the ones used for perch, I'm talking about the 4" to 5" monsters. Unfortunately the VHS ban and demise of old Pete's bait shop pretty well eliminated my supply of those shiners. To replace them, I had to switch to either the gulp minnows or jigs. But I still prefer to use sacs and they've never failed me. Over the years, I've noticed that cured eggs seem to work better then uncured eggs. I suspect that the scent of cured eggs are more noticeable in colder water and it seems to "wake up" the fish from their winter slumber. Trotting the float is another key for success as it helps give the fish more time to decide whether they want it or not.

Winter steelheading can be fun if you dress according and stay warm. The crowds in some places are non existent and you can enjoy the solitude while taking in the snow covered trees, large icicles on the cliffs and green water provides beautiful scenery.

Geico Caveman Steelheading

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 15:35:00 PST

Ice on the guides is one of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to winter steelheading. After a couple of drifts the line struggles to go through the guides and the end result is the float stalls and the reel keeps spinning and there is a pile of line in the water. The line has to be reeled in and the rod taken apart and the ice removed. After 2 or 3 drifts repeat the same process. Over and over and after a while is starts getting old. The other thing to do is whack your rod in the water to remove the ice. The problem is when your cranky, you whack a little harder. It was a chilly morning on the Vermilion, when I started fishing and the ice started to get on my nerves because it was only a couple degrees below freezing. Being lazy, I whacked the rod pretty hard and eventually I whacked a little to hard, more like a "hulk is mad" whack. To my horror I watched the tip of my G Loomis GLX slowly go down the line and a volley of curse words followed. The GLX was suppose to be caveman proof. Over the years it endured being dropped on rocks, pile drived into the ground, floats hitting it, cracking it against trees and whacking it in the water to remove ice. Maybe the years of a false sense of security finally caught up to me. It was only nine in the morning and I wasn't going to call it a day because the tip broke. Disgusted that I couldn't control my temper, I had to make use with what I had a - 12'5" rod.

The Vermilion for once actually looked good - slightly stained, not the typical coffee with a cup of creamer added. The only reason I fished the V was the streams out east to still too high due to snowmelt. Since the Vermilion is the farthest west and generally not considered a part of the snowbelt, what ever little snow was long gone and barely effected the flow. With the nicer weather and closer proximity to Cleveland's suburbs, I knew the Rock would be a bustling place.

It was a mixture of males, females and skippers. I heard yesterday the fishing was better and I took it a lot of walking and banging away to get into the double digits. The fish were hanging in their typical winter haunts - tailouts, flats along the cliffs and deep pools. I didn't find the pods of the fish but it was enough to sooth my disappointment of breaking my rod. Even though there were plenty of people, there was enough spots to fish without nobody really bothering you.

Tonight I must crafted my a large beaver accidentally hooked himself and quickly dove to escape and the tip of rod broke excuse and mail my broken piece of manhood in the hopes I get a new one free of charge. For the time being, I must use the Raven rod I have stowed away in the basement as my backup. The rod can also serve as a pole vault, whenever I feel the need to jump over streams. Compared to the Loomis rod the Raven will feel like a telephone pole. Might need to stock up on BenGay.

Another Year In The Books

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 07:03:00 PST

What fish will kill me first?

2011 has finally come to an end and instead of ushering in a new year of happiness and the hopes of prosperity, I'm bitching that the Grand is blown again. But, that's the life of a hardcore steelheader. Nearly every week the rain conveniently falls on a Thursday or Friday and I'll have wait yet another week to get on the big river. With this latest bout of rain, I'm sure a lot of the steelheaders were glad they had the day off to nurse the hangover.

Now the year in review. This past fall and early winter has been a hell of a lot better than last year. We experienced drought like conditions last fall and none of the rivers really got a good blowout. Due the low water conditions, I'm sure the fish got fed up and decided to pack their bags looking for other rivers. The fishing was terrible as double digits days were few and far between. A lot of steelheaders were happy to land one or two fish. Then the "freeze" came and it took everybody by surprise. It was early December when everything along the Alley locked up. But that happens when the rivers are low - they freeze over quick. I was forced to fish the Hoga with dismal success, the power plant was even worse. I was losing it as the month of March was upon us. The only good note was the Gates Mills dam finally succumbing to father time and Mother Nature's wrath. It opened new water for the steelheaders and I was eager to add some new water under my belt.

Collapse of the Gates Mills Dam - March 2010

The rivers were finally ice free, but the fish were still not in big numbers. We waited patiently, but Mother Nature wasn't finished torturing us. The month of April turned out to be the wettest on record. The Rock had it's 2nd worst flood in recorded history and changed a lot of sections. The constant rain threw in a major monkey wrench as I was forced to fish ditches and I wasn't terribly happy with the results. I threw in the towel about mid April was it was evident we got a lousy run and hoped the following fall would be better.

Rainy April = Ditch Fishing

We crossed our fingers and prayed to the fish gods. September I caught my first fish of the new season. Instead of bone dry conditions, we received plenty of rain that brought fish in. For the first time I purchased a PA licence and put aside my indifference towards PA steelheading. October was an outstanding month on the Elk and Conneaut. The double digits days were plenty and nobody was grousing about the lack of fish. As the season progressed we still received more rain that kept the flows nice and high. Once again the PA licence came in handy as we fished the Elk numerous times as the Ohio streams were still too high to fish. The number of fish in the Elk started to drop during the later weeks of November and it was evident that their run was coming to an end. In Ohio, ours was starting to rev up and the darling of the alley was the much maligned Rocky that got a good push of fish. Because of the good numbers of fish and some big ones thrown in, I hastily made changes in my I don't fish the Rock decree. It was still fishing good well into December as I witnessed and caught some huge fish. The other rivers out east didn't fare as well for obvious reasons.

September Steel 2011

The Grand could never come down to fishable levels because of the rain. The window to fish it was very brief. I haven't fished it since early November. The Conneaut usually the best bet during the fall was very spotty, with the exception of a couple money holes I know, the fishing was tough but I did catch a respectable number of fish. The Chagrin, which I haven't fish yet has been off and on. The Vermilion, a river that ranks lowers than some ditches I fished only once and caught three fish in conditions even though considered low had the same consistency has my cup of coffee in the morning - heavy with a lot of cream.

The Elk saves the day

With that said, I hope a Happy New Year to my fellow brother steelheaders. Let's hope we have a mild winter and a fantastic spring to wrap up the season. More adventures to come.

Ho Ho Ho!

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 17:37:00 PST


Christmas Day Hog

Merry Christmas from the Alley. We were very thankful for the warmer than usual weather as this time last year, all of the streams were locked up tighter than a nun's asshole. We were house bound and cranky as fishing opportunities were very limited and in those places the fishing was terrible. Many are hoping that the warmer weather extends well into the new year. But, I would rather have rain than looking at a stream covered in ice and waiting months for the thaw.

Before the next outing, the first thing I did was purchased a pair of new waders. My Orvis wader were finally kaput. Tube after tube after tube of aquaseal couldn't stop the deluge that plagued me this season. Once the water dipped into the 30s and using grocery bags to cover my feet, I knew I couldn't wait anymore. The Simms G3s were the most expensive waders I've purchased and I had to shell out the big bucks because the hardcore steelheader demands the best. No more cheap made in China crap. The clerk handed me the large sized ones and they were very light. Everybody I know that has the G3s raved about their durability and comfort. After walking around the store in them, I was sold and walked out the door and thankfully my Christmas bonus paid for them.

Another trip to the Grand was thwarted by guess what? More rain. It rained pretty hard late Wednesday and many feared that the streams would be unfishable during the holiday weekend. On Christmas Eve, I watched the flow gauges like a kid looking out of the window for Santa. The only rivers that might fish would be the Chagrin and the "gulp" Rocky. The flows were still a tad high and that meant dirty water.


Thumbs up from the shadowy steelheader because nobody is here

Christmas morning, I drove down to the Rock in the dark and looked at the water. It was running dirty and the visibility was barely a foot. I rolled the dice and drove out east to a smaller stream and it turned out to be snake eyes. If there were any fish, they were the ultimate grinches as I couldn't buy a hit. After a couple of hours, I knew I would be wasting time here so I headed back west to fish the Rock. During the morning, Bubba called on his way back from Dayton, curious to see what the fishing was like. I groused about the lousy fishing and was getting ready to head back. Since it was Christmas, the number of people would be almost nil, which is unheard of for a Sunday. I arrived at the lower section and the water was still dirty. There wasn't a soul in sight and I could pick and choose where to fish without somebody irritating me. I fished a popular spot and the first fish of the day was a decent sized hen. Usually this time of the year, I like to keep a couple of hens for eggs. Unfortunately I have a bad habit of throwing back hens in the hopes I catch a bigger and fatter one. I decided to throw it back knowing I might screw myself. But that was the only fish and knew of a better spot upstream.

During the past couple of outings we landed some big fish in this spot. It was the typical winter holding spot - wide and flat and the fish parked themselves right near where the river bends. The first fish out of this spot was chrome skipper that despised the cold water, leaped out of the water and fought furiously. The next fish was another hen and she shredded my tippet on the rocks. I continued to work the bend and the float shot under and it felt like a big fish. Whenever the rod "thuds" I know it's a biggie. I watched it come to the surface it was a huge male. Over the past couple of weeks, the Rock has been coughing up some large fish. It was battle of tug of war and I desperately tried to keep it from running into the jagged pieces of shale. Finally, I beached it and the first thing I noticed was it's large head. It almost looked like a gator as its lower jaw was very kyped. At the time I was still waiting for Bubba to show up and I wanted a money shot of this beastie, so I put him on the stringer and waited.

When he showed up he was impressed with the size of it and took a couple of shots. I released him back into the murky depths and wondered how far he would journey upstream. For once it was nice to stand in the water and not have to worry about my feet getting wet. We pulled some nice fish out that spot and we ventured back to the place I first fished. It was late afternoon and the wind was blowing hard out of the west as it made fishing difficult. The uncured eggs I had were not up to par and started using my purple nurple and orange eggs cured in BorXofire. These sacs were tied a lot bigger and gave off a wicked scent. Well, the fish enjoyed the festive colored sacs as I started tearing them up in the last hour. We enjoyed having the river to ourselves as we knew tomorrow it would be the opposite.

Monday morning the herd migrated to the Rock. I arrived tardy around 8 and I shuffled in where the guys were fishing. Once again the uncured eggs were suspect and the fish were begging for the cured eggs ( note to newbies carry both cured and uncured ). Unlike yesterday, the majority of fish caught were skippers, but there was a lot of fish to be had. After cleaning out a couple of holes, I drove along the metropark and every lot was packed. I'm sure the joggers, elderly, people walking the dog cursed under their breath as the anglers took up all of the spots. I kept driving and I could see people at every popular spot. This is the Rock that I've grown to hate over the years - wasting time looking for a spot. It almost noon and my stomach talked me into heading home for lunch. After a hearty meal and a long snooze, I figured the crowds would be gone home - wrong. There were plenty of people out but I had the ace in the hole and the brief time fishing I landed two large fish. The Rock is having an outstanding season so far, a lot better than the streams farther east. Unfortunately we might have to wait again as there is a 100% chance of rain tomorrow. As I remarked last time fishing all I want for Christmas is the Grand to fish for one week.

Snow?

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 19:13:00 PST

The Alley got its first significant snowfall of the year. For many, the snow was actually a welcome relief from the rain. Personally, I'm sick and tired of it as another float trip on the Grand has been put on the back burner. Fishing the ole river this season has been a distant memory. After the latest bout of rain the rivers were coming down and I wanted to get away from the weekend warriors. That meant a long drive out east and I didn't mind shelling out the money for gas. Since the river was slightly higher on the gauge, lack of chatter on the internet, and another kick at the can for the deer hunters - I wasn't in a hurry. I drove at an unheard of 65mph the entire way out. When I pulled in and chuckled "first" and started to get dressed when the first flakes started dropping. I felt the wind and it was coming out the west and that usually means lake effect. As walked towards the river it gradually snowed harder and progressed into a virtual whiteout. I couldn't even see the float and had to stop fishing. But lake effect squalls come and go quickly and it was back to a morning of solitude and beautiful water.

As it was last week, I couldn't find the pods of fish. I banged every pool, hole, pocket water and nook and cranny. It was one or two here and there which was odd because all of the spots were near prime spawning areas. It has been a puzzling season on this particular river, as fish were had in big numbers early in the fall but as the season progressed the fish spread out. I drove farther down river and was surprised to see only one car - one car! As expected the two guys were parked at the popular hole and strolled upstream. Only one spot produced fish in decent numbers and every where else it was the standard one or two.

Later in the morning I received a call that the Rock was fishing awesome in the morning. Of course I follow my decree religiously but there was a slight taste of bitterness and regret in my mouth. I had to swallow my pride as it was early afternoon when I made the decision to head back home and give the Rock a shot. The Clowns were playing a late afternoon game and by then the morning shift had gone home. Even though I rarely fish the Rock, I still have a lot of aces in the hole. It was getting late in the afternoon so I fished one of those aces and it paid off in spades.

It turned out a smart move as yet again another leak sprung somewhere in my waders. At least I was close to home if my feet and legs became to cold. I'm going to have to bite the bullet and buy a new pair of waders. No mid price ones as I'm going to break the bank. Can't wait for the fat guy and I don't think he would drop the $400 for a pair of Simms G3.

What's For Dessert?

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 19:51:00 PST

The Brits love giving hilarious names to their foods. My mother is British and I remember as a teen visiting my grandparents in England when I was at the grocery store, I saw a package of faggots ( pork meatballs ) and started snickering. Luckily, neither of my grandparents eat it and I've always thought British cuisine with the exception of fish and chips was absolutely horrible. But it would of been great to hear my grandfather say at the supper table "I've got nothing against faggots, I just don't fancy them."

Tonight, I was at World Market browsing the food section and came across cans of spotted dick. Spotted dick of course is a British sponge pudding. If I had a Christmas party next week at work, I would of bought it and baked the boys a lovely cake.

Winter Is Coming

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 15:23:00 PST

Winter can be the most difficult season for the steelheader. Cold winds, snow, slush, ice and freezing water - all play against the angler seeking fish. It's these factors that separates the men from the boys. The 1%ers versus the 99%ers. We still haven't receive the notorious lake effect snows, but the weather over the weekend was an early sign that winter steelheading is around the corner. During the weekend the nighttime temps dipped into the 20s, but the streams were still warm enough that slush and ice wouldn't be a problem.

Sunday was to be a sunny day, but the overnight low was to be in the 20s again. I left early Sunday morning and the air was very cold and crisp. The sky was lit up with stars and I could see the faint light in the distance. It was the first signs that winter is coming. Winter is the time of the hardcore steelheader. He is dedicated and doesn't care about the elements. He sneers at squalls and drives through them. He's confident that fish will be caught no matter what the conditions are like. I arrived after first light and if it was spring, there would be plenty of cars parked as anglers would staked out their spots in the dark. But, not today, as I was the first to roll in. There was a dusting of snow on the ground and any standing water was frozen. I dressed for the weather wearing fleece long underwear and a thermal shirt. The cap was replaced by the toque.

The stream was clearing and the flow was just right. The water on the other hand was cold as I felt the sharp sting of it. It was probably in the 30s and that meant fishing the tail ends and off the seams. The sun slowly crept above the ridge when I hooked into the first fish of the day - a dark hen. She was in her prime winter colors - charcoal bottom mixed with reds, purple and silver. She had been the river for some time carrying her precious cargo of eggs. Spring for her seemed a long way off. I quickly released her and resumed fishing. After that another fish fell for a white sacs. Unlike the last fish, he was fresh out of the lake. His body was bright silver with a slight hint of red. Only four days ago, the river was high and muddy ushering in the next run of fish.

After that the bite shut off as I scoured the run for any others. Despise the cold water, both fish fought very hard. They made hard blistering runs and quickly bolted back into the dark water after being released. By now the sun's rays were getting stronger as I didn't have to stop as much to remove the ice from the rod's guides. This section wasn't producing so I walked to another spot I knew. This spot was at the bottom of a small island. It spilled into a long pool and eventually flatten out. On the opposite side, it ran along a shale cliff. With the aid of glasses, I could see the ledge and that's where fish primarily hold. It took some time but I hooked into a fish. Once hooked I knew it was a large fish. It stuck to the bottom and eventually I finally got it to surface. It was a very thick male, probably one of the thickest fish I caught. His tail was so thick I couldn't get a decent grip so I had to use my glove. As I lifted him, I knew he was over ten pounds and readied the camera for a shot. He was an impressive specimen and the only blemish was the healed over lamprey scar behind the pelvic fin.

The fishing, however was slow. I could of stuck close to home as I heard the fishing was better. But I can't and absolutely will not fish the Rock on the weekend. I have a no fish the Rock Saturday and Sunday in my decree. I don't care if people are hooking fish left, right and center. I hate crowds and annoying people and both are present in big numbers on the Rock. I rather shell out the money and drive farther east. Numbers are not important, but enjoying the peace and quiet. It's not like I hate people, but I'm around a lot of them during the week and the last thing I need is somebody talking my ear off early Sunday morning.

The number of fish wasn't a lot and involved driving from one section to another. There wasn't a lot of people and I didn't have to stray from the road. Today, I couldn't find the pods of fish. You chalk up a bunch of theories, but that does happen from time to time. You think the water looks great, the flow is prefect and the number of people is low. That pretty well sums up winter fishing as it's either feast or famine.

Hoping I don't see rain until next spring because this constant rain every week has thrown a monkey wrench in the plans for floating the Grand for over a month.

400 Miles

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 09:02:00 PST

Another vacation and another bout of rain. That's how it usually happens, because I have to book my vacation time well in advance. In some years, its been bone dry and others the rivers get blown out. There is no in between. I sigh usually with a feeling of frustration, but I have to make best with what I have. That was evident as the Alley got walloped with rain. Some are so fed up with the rain that they're praying for snow. So far to date Northeastern Ohio has blown away the most precipitation in one year record.

Sunday, I snuck out to beat the rain. It was a decent day, but I knew the fishing gods would try to ruin my vacation. As expected the streams blew out, but I hoped that PA got spared. Sure enough that evening the flow went up but none of their streams blew out. For the remainder of the week, Pennsylvania was the only destination as all of Ohio's streams were out of the question for the entire week. On the upside, the river would be high and it was the beginning of deer hunting season. With high conditions and the hunting season, I wasn't in a hurry to lock up the best spot. The downside was it was 100 mile drive one way and my lead foot doesn't help with the fuel economy.

It was this time back in 2007 when I smashed them on this section. I never had a day like that and may never again. I know it was well over 50 fish and if I kept count it might of been close to 70, because I usually carry about 3 dozen sacs per container and I had 3 of them on me. That year, we had the mother load of fish both in PA and Ohio - it was the dream season. We were all spoiled by the bounty and hoped it would never end. Then the reality check smack us upside the head last year. It was horrible as some of us thought we lost our mojo. We got teased a couple of times, but most of the time we struggled to find fish. If you didn't put in the effort, then your season was filled with frustration and sorrow. Even here in Steelhead Shangri -La hasn't been the same either as the locals have been complaining about the lack of fish and you know it's been a bad year when PA steelheaders are whining.

I arrived around 10:00A.M to see the stream dirty and flowing good. The added bonus was seeing a couple of anglers looking glum walking back to the car. The majority of PA's anglers hate and I mean hate fishing dirty water. They look at the dirty water with a panic expression on their face. You can see beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. In their heads, they're trying to figure out where the fish are, but they can't put 1+1 together. After a few minutes they decided it's not worth the effort and drive home. I'm pretty well use to it and I'm the opposite as I hate fishing low and clear.

Even though the weather was miserable, I could hear in the distance cracks of gun shots and I made an effort to make sure I was seen and heard as I started to head downstream. By late November, most of PA's steelhead are spawning. Because the creek has a limited amount of good gravel beds, the fish will take advantage of any. In several places, I could make out the dark shapes of fish clustered near a hen. That's usually a good place to start as I started to fishing below them. I hit fish, but not in big numbers. It seem that a lot of them were spread out but that's expected when conditions are higher as the fish can seek out more spots. Every spot produced fish and the majority of them were dark and some males sported some bite marks, ragged fins and their bodies thin. Not a lot of fresh fish which means that PA's run is starting to wind down and hopefully Ohio's Manistees are starting to show up.

On the way home the report was calling for more rain and a cold front pushing from the west. The creek was precariously close to blowing out again. It would be a night of waiting and seeing whether I would make the drive out. It didn't take much but the stream blew out again. Tuesday would be a day to chill at home and rest my back. It was late evening and the creek peaked. As with a lot of PA's streams they drop like a rock over night. I woke early to take a peek and as expected it dropped a foot or so. Filled the Jeep up and it was another 200 mile round trip.

The weather was nasty coming out of Cleveland as I hit rush hour. It was blowing snow and the wind whipped all over the place. As I drove farther east, it was coming off the lake. It was a day for the hardcore steelheader, not for the faint of heart. It was 9:30 when I pulled in and the creek looked the same as it did Monday. With the weather colder, the fish would be holding at the tail end. Today not a soul was out even the hunters as I didn't hear any gun shots. There was fish to be had but again not in big numbers. It was 2 or 3 here and there. Covering water was the key as several anglers I pasted later in the day stood at one hole and only caught a couple of fish. Once again my troublesome back started acting up and it was long drive home as I had to stop several times to loosen the knot in my back. By evening it was killing me and I needed to take several days off to rest it. I couldn't imagine the pain if I had the Molson muscle, as I use to weight 220lbs several years. It would be tough sitting on the sidelines. Ohio' streams were still too high and PA's would eventually become low and clear.

Finally our streams started to come down. I had a hankering for big water. Sunday for a change I didn't have to drive and we headed to an old favorite. We were all curious to see how many fish moved in after the rain. We decided to fish low away from the rural areas as it was the last day of deer season. We pulled into one favorite place and I moved farther upstream to a spot to see if any fish where in the hole. The wind was gusting as I heard leaves rustling behind me. It was first light and I looked behind me to see a hunter sitting on a picnic table. This section is heavily wooded for some distance on one side of the river. I watched him sitting patiently, looking across the field hoping his trophy buck would emerge from the woods. I got back to fishing and hooked into the first fish of the morning - a bright hen. It's nice to see some of the Manistees coming in instead of fishing for the stale PA mutts. The last time I fished this river, it was a skipper fest. Today, some titans moved in and the pole strained and groaned as I fought some tough fish. Too bad the flow wasn't stronger as I love the battle of attrition with these larger fish. We enjoyed it while it last, because more rain is on the way. I can't wait for the snow and cold........

Calm Before The Storm

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 18:48:00 PST

Steelhead Alley has its own version of Black Friday. Just like shoppers that cringe at the thought of hundreds of people beating one another just to get the 3 laptop computers listed at $299.00 even though the smart shopper on Cyber Monday can buy online without freezing their ass off waiting in line for hours. The same can be said about the streams the day after when everybody needs to escape from the mother-in-law. The streams are often packed and this is the reason why I often skip Black Friday and sleep well into the morning.

Lucky for me, I have no family commitments, so I can stay out as long as I desire on Thanksgiving. During past turkey day outings, I've often thought about my fellow steelheaders trapped at home with their mother-in-law, going to different grocery stores looking for cranberry sauce or entertaining 10 kids. I'm sure all of them were wishing they were on the river. It was refreshing to have an entire river to myself and after a long day I was the only car left in the lot.

A couple days ago we received rain that bumped the streams up. I was more than happy because I'm off all of next week and the other bonus is both Ohio and Pennsylvania's deer hunting season start Monday. Wednesday night I watched the flow gauge on the Elk start to slip into the "kiss your wife's ass to get out" zone. All of Ohio's streams were still too high to fish, so it was across the border we go. Since the others could only fish the morning, we drove separately as I wanted to stay longer. We pulled in at first light and nobody was there. We walked down and the creek was dirty and somewhere in that murkiness were a lot of fish. The guys fished near the first access and I wandered a bit downstream. The spot I fished cut hard into the shale wall that ran about 50 yards. Off of the main current is where the fish usually hold. Sure enough, that's where they were. It wasn't deep, maybe 3' but deep enough to hide them. It was a mixed bag of fresh and older fish. Once in a while I would look upstream to get the others attention to see if they wanted to move to new water. We gradually moved downstream and started hitting fish in every spot.

As I've said in the past, nothing beats a uncured egg. There is something about an all natural egg. Cured eggs will work but I liken them to somebody seasoning a steak with BBQ sauce or lacing it with secret spices - some people will like it and others not. I tend to use uncured eggs, but I'll carry cured ones just in case the fishes palette changes. Today, I called out my fish when I using uncured eggs. This can be done on the Elk when it's dirty and unpressured. It was a hoot when I placed a fresh sac on the hook, cast out and watch the float go under. Bubba demanded that I stop hoarding my eggs as it was the day of giving. I begrudgingly gave in and tossed him one egg. Sure enough he hooked into a fish and I just chuckled as I handed him another.

Eventually the others had to leave and I wished them a Happy Thanksgiving and wonder how many dishes they would have to wash after dinner. At least they would have some decent football games to watch especially the Packers and Loins. I wondered upstream and it had been some time since I fished it. I passed a couple of people that lucky for them lived in the Erie area so they were in no rush to get home. I picked up some fish in deeper pools and tailouts along the cliffs and walls. These were definitely places to come back to next week.

As for Friday, I'll bet the farm that the Elk will be packed as out streams will still be too high. Every person I talked to said the same thing and they too were taking a pass tomorrow. I was happy that I got first dibs on fish and tomorrow I'll be snoring as others will be racing to the best spots.

Tale of Three Rivers

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sat, 19 Nov 2011 16:42:00 PST

All of Steelhead Alley's streams are generally the same. All of them run over shale bedrock, have little to no groundwater sources, and most of them with the exception of the Grand become fishable within 3 to 4 days after rain. But, that where the similarities stop. One river might get a monster run and others might get a wee one. As a rule of thumb, I generally fish farther east and as the season progresses, I start to make my way back west. Even though, I live in the western Cleveland suburb of Rocky River, I prefer the eastern rivers because they're scenic, more rural and tend to get more PA steelhead.

Friday, I fished solo as I decided to take a well deserved day off. Work has been slowing down and this is the time of the year when I start cashing in personal days. The plan was to fish far out east as I was scouting for others for the upcoming weekend. Arriving at first light, there were two cars and every time I've been there, I know where the people are going. Then another car with Ontario plates pulled in across the road and it was packed with guys. Lately, I've seen a lot of Canadians on the Alley and I hoped they were as green as I was 12 years ago. But, I noticed a person jumping out of the car, fully dressed in gear walking briskly to the river. When I got down to the river, as expected he locked up the spot for them. Maybe he was a guide or something, but who cares, because I knew of spot that probably would fish better.

The river was slightly stained and had a nice flow. It was cold with the temperature in the 30s and that meant - tailouts. I could see everybody at the spot downstream. From past recon trips during the summer months, I knew there was a shale ledge towards the tailout. The recon paid off as I started yanking fish out of that spot. During my time fishing, I would look downstream and see the group of anglers not doing a lot. Sooner or later they start getting antsy and start heading up or down. I was hoping to they would head down. Then one by one they started to come up. I tried to be coy as we exchanged greetings and watched them walk up and around the corner. It was back to fishing and I did very well catching a lot of fresh fish. The bottom of the pool was littered with a lot of sore jaws, so it was off to another spot. This section was a long sweeping pool. Farther down it was nothing but what I dubbed shit water as it holds nothing but shit. There were plenty of fish from top to bottom and like the last spot, it was polluted with skippers. Satisfied with the results, I gave two thumbs to the working stiffs that were anxiously waiting for Saturday morning.

The plan for Saturday was the same place. One person that tagged along was Michael from Germany who comes to Ohio on business twice a year. Micheal is an avid angler in his home country and when he was in the Cleveland area several years ago, he stumbled onto Erie Outfitters. He was interested about fishing the alley and the owner of the shop - Craig helped him out. Saturday morning we drove east and the game plan was to lock up one pool near a popular spot. Locking up a pool involved getting up fairly early. On the drive out, I called a local bait shop that leaves a recording of lake and stream conditions. I got a chuckled when I heard that the fishing was tough on Friday and they were puzzled at the lack of fish caught. When we arrived there were several anglers gearing up and once again, I knew where they were going. I got dressed quicker when other cars started rolling in and told them I would grab the spot. Sure enough, everybody was clustered in that one spot - ha! The water had cleared considerably from yesterday. The fishing was slower then yesterday, but we all caught fish. I suggested that we head to the other spot I fished yesterday. As we walked out, there was about 20 cars scattered along the road. We pulled into the next spot and it wasn't hard to figure out what type of angler was fishing. When we arrived at the next spot, there was a Prius, Subaru, and a Toyota Highlander. All of them were plastered with Patagonia and Trout Unlimited stickers. Foreign cars and uber high priced outfitting manufacturers logos = yuppie, green weenie, fair weather fly fishermen. I figured when they walked back and looked at my piece of shit Jeep, they thought meat hunting, pool hogging, smelly spawn sacing dirtbag. We did well in that spot and I had another one another farther up. As we walked across to the other spot, all of the other cars were gone except for one truck.

We hit some fish out of one hole and I could see two people fishing upstream. This was a spot I didn't have to fish the day before. The one angler greeted us and we started fishing, only hear the other angler start complaining about us fishing between them. We looked at each other like is he kidding? Ask anglers their definition of low holing and you'll get answers ranging from 10' to the entire length of a football field. This curmudgeonly loser was 50 yards upstream and he thought we were too close, I say Mr. Magoo needs to get his eyes checked. Of course, we could of been assholes and walked up started fishing in his hip pocket. His pissing and moaning session, thankfully was short lived. The morning crowd probably worked the hole over and we the left the miserable crank alone.

Sunday we fished a river that often ranks at the bottom of my list - the Vermilion. I wasn't thrilled, but two days in a row driving out east was putting a hurting on my sleep and wallet. The Vermilion has one major problem - it constantly runs dirty. Years ago it never had that problem and nobody knows why. The only thing that the V has going for it is a lot of gravel and the majority of people I know have giving it up for dead. The fishing was terrible as I was the only one to hook into fish - 3 in total and the others were ready to throw in the towel. When we returned to the cars, I was waffling on whether to go home or continue fishing. Mike on the other hand wanted to cram in as much fishing as possible since we was to return to Germany on Wednesday. I don't blame him and I told him we could fish the Chagrin. On the way back I had second thoughts about fishing the Chag, it was almost noon and I didn't want to make the long drive out there or take Mike on one of my death marches. I elected to fish the Rock and I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of driving to see every lot full of cars. But I still had some cards in my hand and knew where to find fish. It was well past noon and I figured the early birds were long gone and the second shift were at the fords. I took Mike to several spots and we caught some fish. The only excitement was when we watched 4 does running across the rivers and then a large buck following briskly. Another buck wanting to cashing in tried to head off the other by crossing further down. I gave Mike some pointers for tomorrow and wished him luck and safe trip back home.

Three more days until vacation time...........

Cat's Meow

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 19:40:00 PST

Working the pool in the Zoar Valley

Every angler has a dream destination to catch their favorite fish. For me it's British Columbia's Skeena River and it's magnificent wild steelhead. I've often dreamed of fishing either the Kispiox, Babine or Buckley rivers, standing in the cold pristine waters looking up at the mountains cloaked in mist. Both my parents and sister live in that province, unfortunately it's a 700 mile drive from Vernon to the Skeena. So I had to settle for something a little closer to home and that was the Cattargarus or known by local steelheaders as the "Catt". Many years ago, I was suppose to go there, but high water made fishing all but impossible. For years, it sat on the back burner and I could never get anybody to go for a variety of reasons - work, rather fish the Rock or being denied by the warden errrrr wife.

Lower section of the Catt

This past weekend I finally made it there and it's another notch on the rod. The Catt is considered the jewel of Steelhead Alley as it's the largest steelhead tributary that runs into Lake Erie on the American side. Steelhead can run as far as Springville Dam, which is 34 miles from the lake. The lower end of the river is flat and wide and loaded with gravel. There are many deep pools and holes that will hold fish. This is the most popular section of the river and is considered a pinner's dream. But, nearly all of it runs through the Seneca Indian reservation and you need to purchase a special licence. The middle section runs through the Zoar Valley one of the deepest gorges in New York. It's a wild, scenic place full of wildlife, numerous waterfalls and old growth forests. If you want seclusion and are anti-social, then the Zoar's your place.

High cliffs - Zoar Valley

Several buddies went up several weeks ago as all of Ohio's streams were running low and clear. I received the call that the four of them nearly landed 30 fish. I course, I love to bust their chops and called bullshit. Kidding aside, I knew it was possible as the Catt was nearly unfishable this fall due to rain. Finally a break in the rain and it was enough time for the river to finally come down. Timing is the key, because when it blows out, it can take weeks for it come down. That's because it drains a huge area, a lot more than the Grand River. I've heard that some springs the river goes unfished because of the snow melt and rain.

Catt Steelhead

Earlier in the week, I talked with a friend about going. I was game and nothing was going to stop me from getting there. The river was at a perfect flow and I wanted to get away from Ohio as the fishing here has been pathetic. Hoping to get to bed early turned out to be another late night as I had a lot of things to do - tie sacs, watch the football game, and trying to purchase a licence online. I didn't hit the sack until almost midnight. With a little over three hours of sleep, I knew I was going to have my hands full with the drive out to New York and back. We left at 4:00A.M and it would be about a 3 hour drive. We finally got off the turnpike and the tripometer was over 170 miles if we drove another 40 miles we would be at the border. Not wanting to spend over $40.00 for a licence, we opted to fish outside of the reservation. The first place we stop was in the town of Gowanda. We parked practically next to the river and fished one spot the guys did well a couple weeks ago. The river had a chalky color and the visibility wasn't that great. Farther up there was a mix of bait and fly fishermen working one pool. I was pumped to hook into my first New York steelhead. The fishing was very slow as only one fish was caught. We fished several spots downstream and nothing was happening. This theme would be replayed over the day.........ugh

Angler dwarfed by the cliffs

Due to limited time and not wanting to make the 3 hour drive back in the dark, we made the decision to fish the Zoar Valley. The Zoar wasn't very far from town, about 10 minutes south. We turned onto the road and the first thing I noticed a large sign greeting people by stating that nobody and I mean nobody will get any permission to hunt my property. To make his point clearer, nearly every tree along the road had a posted sign. We continued down the road and there were more signs and I wondered how much money this person spent on signs, probably thousands of dollars. I figure he would be the type of person to greet you with a shotgun pointed in your direction when knocking on the door. We dressed and started the descent down into the Zoar. When we finally made it down, I was awestruck at the height of the cliffs. These cliffs were 4 times the height of the ones on the upper Grand. The river itself was a mixture of blue and green colors. It mainly ran over shale as I could make out the ledges and cuts. It reminded me of a giant Ashtabula river with a lot of flow. Because there are limited gravel areas in the gorge streambed, fish push through it rather quickly. As a general rule, steelhead prefer to hold and rest over gravel, but there is fishable pocketwater and many shale ledges in the valley where fish pause temporarily on their upstream journey. The river was low enough that we figured some fish stopped to rest and waited for the next high water.

Right off the trail, there was a pool that held a lot of promise. It was fairly long with large rocks. Along the river, it was littered with rocks and at times it made walking difficult. As I walked I knew both boots were spitting cleats. Upstream I could see the typical V shape of the cliff that announced where the main and south branch of river meet. Even though on the flow gauge the Catt was slightly under 300, it had a pretty good flow. For the insane whitewater kayaker, this section would be a blast at higher flows. As for a drift boat, I would be hesitant to use it through here, because the shale bottom and ledges and many large rocks were barely underwater. One wrong move and the boat would suffer a lot of damage. As for a pontoon boat, I wouldn't even dare use it. I could see the breaks and seams were fish could be holding. We started working the pool and nothing was happening. I moved downstream working the tailouts and still nothing. I surprised with the sheer number of rocks in the water, that I didn't snag bottom. The only action was when Dave hooked into a large fish only to have his leader break due to a large rock. Dave mentioned that yesterday, a local angler told him the fishing was better downstream. We heeded the advice and started to walk down to the cliffs.

Main and South branch of the Catt

We made it down and I looked up, the cliffs were incredibly high and steep. Several trees were precariously hanging on the edge. The cliffs themselves were chiseled and scarred by thousands of years of rain and runoff. The entire section along the cliffs were a pinner's delight - a long slow moving pool that eventually tailed out about 200 yards down. But before we fished the cliffs, we worked a pool below a large set of rapids. I finally hit my first fish of the day as I watched the float popped twice and go under. I set the hook and felt the rod throb hard. The fish hit at the tail end and then I noticed the leader was wrapped around it. The fish started to drift into the rapids that spilled into another large pool. As the fish tried to fight, I had to hold the rod high to prevent the leader from fraying on the rocks. By then the fish had unwrapped itself and was trying head back into deeper water. I guided the fish between two large rocks and managed to beach it. It was nice large hen and her bottom caudal was worn - a sign of a repeat spawner.

Looking downstream from the south branch

After that there wasn't a lot of action. Maybe there wasn't that many fish here. As we walked down, we could see two anglers fishing the lower end of the pool. Both were using spey rods. If there was a place to swing flies then they were in the right place. The river here wasn't that deep, maybe three feet deep, but it had a lot of places for fish to hold. We shuffled down stream, pulling off some Olympic distance drifts. But we had no takers and I was puzzled at the lack of action. The two people fishing told us they only caught one fish. It was a little after 12:00P.M and we had about a couple more hours before heading back. We tried another spot had promise - a long deep pool below the island. It was fairly deep over 6 feet deep, but nothing was biting. Due to high winds, there was a lot of leaves in the water and it made drifting at times difficult as the float would get lost in all of the litter. We had one more spot below the two branches of the river. We passed 3 other anglers and they had no luck either. We made it to the spot below the branches and it was a large shale ledge. The water here had a nice green tint and the low water above probably prevented any fish from making it over the series of stair cases. As with every other spot we didn't get a hit. I walked up to the south branch and it was barely flowing over the shale bedrock. It was almost 1:30 and we decided to call it a day.

The drive was brutal as I fought to stay awake. Only after filling up in Erie did the cold wind knock some sense into me and the steaming mug of coffee saved me from dozing off. Even though we didn't have the number of fish we hoped, I was very impressed with the Catt. It's a beautiful river and very challenging for either the pinner or fly fishermen. It's a long haul from Cleveland and if I was going to fish it again. I would purchase a reservation licence and spend a night at a hotel. If you have the time and money, I would add this place to your list.

The Net

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 19:26:00 PST

A subject that is guaranteed to rile up debate here in Steelhead Alley - has the internet ruined the fishery? I say no way, because any resourceful angler will find the necessary information, whether the internet existed or not. If it were to shut down tomorrow, I'll bet the farm that most of Steelhead Alley's rivers would have a lot of people fishing them. If you asked them where they got their information from it would be either from the bait shop or a buddy. But many haters scoff at that and blame it for the higher number of people fishing the streams. Of course, these are the same people that piss and moan about the crowds are usually the ones that rarely venture from the first hole next to the parking lot. I'm the type to go off the beaten path and can cover a lot of water. I'll still run into people but I won't have to club somebody over the head when they try to muscle me out of the honey hole.

Back when I started steelheading in the early 90s, the internet was unheard of and wouldn't be available to the general public for several years. I had to rely on friends and the local tackle shops for any shred of information. A lot of the time, it was the roll of the dice and hoped the fish showed up and the streams fishable. But I was resourceful and often found fish in big numbers. The internet has made fishing a lot easier for today's angler. All the information is available with the click of the mouse - state fishery departments, USGS flow data, weather channel, blogs, e-magazines, websites dedicated to steelhead and even Uncle John's webcams at his camp on the lower Elk. The majority of anglers still use fishing websites to find out what the pulse of the alley is like. I never post a report on the two most popular sites for Lake Erie steelheaders - steelheadsite and ohiogamefishing, because I've been banned from both. I'll admit for shits and giggles, I loved to stir the pot and rattle the moderator's cages. However, both have declined in membership over the years because of the constant bickering and accusations. That biggest complaint of course is spoon feeding and naming locations on the rivers. The haters have made sure to chase off any newbie or out of towner that dares to ask the question "Are there any fish in the river?" or "Where can I go to catch them?" I suspect that most of the haters are either purists or an only child. But there are people who can't go fishing unless they see a report of a certain river. I call them the lazy inept steelheader. They'll start breaking out in a cold sweat Friday night and go into full panic mode when they get up Saturday morning and there are no reports. They come up with all of the excuses - can't risk wasting gas because they live a couple hours away and there isn't enough time to figure out where the fish are. I call bullshit because I go through a lot of gas in pursuit of steel. That's part of the game and I'm willing to shell out the dough.

I pretty well use the phone and the USGS flow data - that's all I need. I have the flow data down pat and know what's fishable. I've told people there always somewhere to fish on the alley any given day. Over the years I made a lot of contacts and those contacts are on speed dial. Every week we're on the phone with the latest information and in a lot of cases it's saved a day that could of been terrible.

The internet hasn't ruined the fishery because that cat was let out of the bag a long time ago. The main purpose of state agencies that stocks fish is to generate revenue for the state. Revenue from licences, lodging, food and gas all go into the state's coffer. Steelhead Alley has more steelhead per mile than any other streams in the lower 48 states, so word is bound to get out. Big numbers of fish equals big numbers of people. So don't panic when the latest person posts his latest outing and notice that 100 people viewed it because more than likely it's a bogus report to deflect pressure off his river ;^ )

Bluebird Day

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 18:35:00 PST

When rivers are low and clear, I often dread "bluebird days". Bluebird day is defined as clear blue skies, bright sun and warm temperatures. I on the other hand prefer low grey skies, zero sun and temperatures hovering in the 40s. Today, it was a bluebird day and I wasn't going to stand on the sidelines. Fishing time is precious and I'll try to deal with the conditions the best I can.

Daylight savings couldn't come at a better time. No more stumbling around in the dark and it's only 7:00A.M and for this hopeless sleeper, an extra hour is what I need. I really didn't feel the need to get up early because the word out was the fishing has been terrible ever since the rivers came down. Not a lot of fish made it in and they're spread out. Many steelheaders used the beautiful weather to score points with the wife in regards to raking leaves and tossing the patio furniture in the shed.

It was first light when I was halfway out to the Grand, driving at a leisurely pace as I listened Rush's Exit Stage Left. This would be the second trip out to the upper stretches and I hoped it would be better than the previous one, but I wasn't holding my breath. I crossed over the covered bridge below the dam, the final stop for steelhead about 20 miles from the lake. I could see several anglers clustered around the bridge. I knew from past experience that the fish will move downstream whenever the water the gets lower.

When ever the rivers are low and clear, I'll fish the Grand. The Grand was one of those rivers that never runs clear. It always has that murkiness to it. A cloak that hides fish very well and makes it very challenging. I know the Grand very well, but there are times that she doesn't want to reveal her secrets or her fish. The upper stretches is where I'm at home - the long shale cliffs, lazy flats, and the remoteness. As I pulled in to the back lot, there wasn't anybody fishing downstream. The large rock that I use as a gauge was halfway out of the water. That meant the river was low but perfect for wading as I had plan to fish the 2 miles downstream. Unfortunately, I looked across to see a large drift boat being loaded. I wasn't in the mood to out run a boat. With the lower water that meant the boat would spook a lot of fish. Even though the Grand is the largest stocked steelhead river in Ohio, it's a very shallow in nature.

I immediately walked down to one of my money pools and quickly hooked into a male - bright in his fall colors. I kept looking up stream and I could see the boat making its way down. In this section it was wide enough that the boat could drift on the opposite side without disturbing any fish. As the boat drifted by I noticed they all had fly gear. That meant they probably wouldn't fishing the lazy pools but I was concerned because most of those pools and flats are shallow and the hulking shadow of a boat is enough to scattered and shut down fish. I figured since I was halfway down I stop at the first mile and give it a shot. I managed one more fish and that was it.

Walking back it was evident that a lot of people took the weekend off as nobody was fishing upstream. It was very odd not seeing people fishing during the first week of November - the prime month of steelheading on the Alley. I drove downstream to another spot where the high cliffs would provide fish with cover. It was the same result - not a lot of action. A couple of anglers walked passed both with grim looks on their faces. One them asked if I fished upstream and said yes but it was slow. Both were not from here and I was hard pressed to give them any info that would help them.

I hope that this November doesn't turn into the one we experienced last year - very low numbers of fish. I believe there are more fish, but they are very spread out. You will need a lot persistence and willing to walk the extra mile. Parking at the closest hole and repeatedly casting over and over won't yield a lot of fish. Time to look ahead for the next adventure.

Fishing Solo

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 19:08:00 PDT

When I moved here 12 years ago from Alberta, both me and my wife at the time, didn't know a soul. It took time to meet and gradually built friendships. My first years on the alley was mostly spent fishing alone. But over time, I meet people and started some great relationships. Many of them shared my passion for chasing steel. But there are times when I enjoy going solo. I can fish at my own pace, explore new water, going the extra mile and leaving whenever I feel the need to.

Today I would be fishing solo and it was a good thing because I kept waffling on where to fish. Both streams were not too far from one another. But one was fishable albeit a little low and the other was still considered too high from other sources. The plan was to fish the lower river and if the fishing was slow, I would head over the other. Knowing me, if the fishing doesn't pan out in a couple of hours, I'll be bombing down the interstate to the next river.

It was a fairly chilly morning out as the temperature was hovering a few degrees above freezing. I wasn't in a hurry today as I arrived at first light. Walking down to the ravine I could see the signs of the first frost of the season. It was eerily quiet as there were no sounds of insects or the rustling of leaves. I could see the my breath as I looked to the horizon waiting for the first rays of sunlight. Looking down the water had that dark tea color and I wasn't terribly thrilled by it.

As with every fall the trees litter the streams with leaves and in some spots the piles in the water can be measured in feet. As the leaves start to decompose, they release tannins and the water starts to get that dark tea color. Some steelheaders believe that tannic conditions can affect fish as it effects the PH level in the water. I started believing that as I fished several spots that hold a lot of fish when the water is lower. I plugged away working the deeper cuts and ledges. A few hours into the morning, I managed one small hen. The day before I got a report that the fishing was outstanding but that window of prime conditions closed Sunday morning. As the morning progress, I could see bottom in a lot of spots and that same spot we fished the week before and caught over 10 fish when the river was higher was visible right down to the bottom. I checked the time and it was almost ten and I knew I needed to make a move.

I drove over to the next river and it was in much better condition color wise but the flow was still strong. Usually when flows are strong, steelhead generally don't tend to hole up. Even though there was a lot of leaves in the water, it had more of a clay based stain, but the visibility was good. The first spot didn't produce and usually when nobody is there at eleven - the fishing sucked. I knew it was going to be one of those days of banging spots all the way up river. That was the case as I worked seams and tailouts and it was one or two fish here and there. I guess I was one of the lucky ones because a lot of people I talked to got shut out. As I drove back back home I stopped at Harpersfield dam to see what the Grand looked like. As expected it was high and unfishable, but I wondered how many fish made it up as last year it was dismal. Last season was the first time I didn't fish that section of the river because of very low numbers of fish. With no rain for the rest of the week, it looks like I might make a visit there this weekend.

Pennsylvania Steelheading and the search for ID

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 21:03:00 PDT

Pennsylvania's steelhead fishery is one of a kind. I liken it to some mad fishery biologist's experiment gone bad. Take over 1 million steelhead and dump them into small streams and ditches. The state stocks the lion share of steelhead into Lake Erie, while Ohio, Michigan, New York and Ontario throw in a few. In 2008, the Pennsylvania fish and boat commission stock over 1.1 million steelhead into 11 tributaries. During that same year, Ohio stocked a little over 465,000 steelhead into 5 rivers. If you want big numbers of fish then Pennsylvania is your destination. If you absolutely hate crowds, I would give you about 30 minutes before you lose it.

Nearly all of Pennsylvania's streams are very small and all of them run over freestone shale. When ever there is rain or snow melt, the streams can blow out very quickly going from low and clear to a raging torrent. As with all flash floods, the water level can drop very quickly. The window for prime fishing conditions can be brief as within a couple of days, the streams will return to low and clear. Since the shale is light in appearance, darker fish stick out like a sore thumb and some of those fish have no choice but to seek out shelter. Some on the other hand are forced to stick it out and dodge the endless numbers of flies and bait drifted by them.

I had a full slate of work on Saturday because I lost 3 days to rain. I wasn't complaining since I was going to make a boat load of money. Later that day, I heard the Elk was on fire because of the stained conditions. When ever their creeks have a hint of mud in it, you be surprised at the low the number of people. Anglers in Pennsylvania love to sight fish. Personally, I can't stand it as I don't find it challenging. Saturday night the plan of action was to fish the Elk. The only concern I had was the river was dropping big time as the flow was at 7 on the gauge. That meant it was running gin clear, but nearly all of Ohio's streams were still too high to fish and I wasn't going to waste a day.

I heard that there were hardly any people out Saturday. Sunday it was the opposite as we rolled into the lot before first light. There were about 8 cars ahead of us and I knew it would be a busy day as the weather was beautiful, the creek was lower, and the Steelers were playing a late afternoon game - a perfect recipe for elbows and assholes. I noticed a lot of fellow Buckeyes were here because they had no where else to fish. As we crossed, I looked down and the water was very clear. We continued downstream to one spot that I knew would hold a lot of fish because it was the only deep hole in the entire section. It was first light and we started banging them on small sacs. Unfortunately the ruckus attracted a lot of attention as the scavengers started to make their way to the pool. One guy fly fishing below started to inch over as he asked what they were hitting on, I told him small peach sacs. The hole wasn't that big but it was dark and somewhere in that darkness, fish huddled tight against the shale ledge. The fish were on the large size and most looked like they've been in the creek for some time. Dave had his hands full with a large fish, after hauling it in he held it up and it was a dark male with broad shoulders - a beautiful specimen. We worked the pool some more but by then they shut down and we left the others to fight over the scraps. As we walked I found the water too clear for my liking as I'm not terribly keen on fishing water that resembles the clarity of a bottle of vodka. We decided to go upstream and we could see about 10 anglers clustered around the pool. I can imagine what the fish would be seeing - flies, boots, and hearing a lot of swearing.

As expected I started getting crabby because I can't stand crowded conditions. I watched people fishing water a foot deep and it was obvious there wasn't anything there. It just boggles my mind why people do that. I looked upstream and there were people everywhere and I couldn't take it anymore. I had to leave and we decided to jump back across to our yard. We drove farther downstream to see how many people were fishing. Nearly every available parking spot was taken and of course some of the dolts ignored the no parking signs on private property. Some people just love to learn the hard way.

As we drove over to Ohio, we stopped at one river and it was still too high. We continued on to the next stream and it was as a perfect as it gets - a nice tea stain with a mellow flow. Even though the small lot was full and a couple of cars parked off the road. We didn't see anybody and one of my favorite spots was vacant. This river has the same characteristics as a Pennsylvania stream - shale bottom with a lot of ledges and cuts. All we did was drift over the dark cuts and that's where the fish were holding. Over the years, I've seen plenty of anglers simply walk by these cuts and chutes because they believe the majority of fish are holding in deeper slowing moving pools. That might be true, but during the warmer months those spots are often pounded mercilessly by the morning crowd. Just in one large cut we managed to hook into over 10 fish. For us, Ohio saved the day and we wondered how our fellow Buckeyes were faring across the border. Satisfied with the results, we drove home and listened to the Browns laying a beating on the Seabags, the score late in the 3rd quarter was 3-0.

What should of been a relaxing evening was cut short when I received a phone call as I was watching the Sunday night game. I answered to hear a women on the other end telling me that she found my wallet. I was caught off guard and had to ask twice. I checked my fleece jacket and there was no wallet. I groaned and it was almost 9:30 but I had to get my wallet as it had all of my important ID including my green card. To make matters worse the lady lived in North Kingsville which is outside of Conneaut. I wasn't in any condition to make the long drive there and back. I filled the coffee mug and drove as fast as I could. I arrived and my wallet was handed over. The first thing I noticed was both my driver licence and green card were missing. She told this was all she found as it was lying on the road near the top of the hill. I thanked her for finding it and making an effort to track me down. It started making sense as I drove out. When I placed my jacket on the roof and removed it, my wallet fell out. When I drove out it flew off and everything fell out. I arrived and it was pitch dark as I parked off the road on top of the hill. It was chilly enough that the crickets could barely chirp. I took out my headlamp and started to scour the side of the road and ditch. I couldn't believe how the lady could of seen it on the road as most people fly up and down it. I gradually walked down the hill painstakingly looking for a small black folder. I continued to look and then off to the side I found it - thank God! Because it would of been a major headache contacting the INS and going through the endless bureaucratic hassle of getting a new card. I also found my Ohio fishing licence and my state applicators licence. I mutter to myself how stupid I was to leave the zipper open, but I breathed a huge sigh of relief that I dodged a bullet. I got back into the Jeep and it was almost 11:30 and it would be another hour before I got home. I was beat and I had to refill the mug at a truck stop. Nothing like industrial strength truck stop coffee and I kept the window open as not to nod off. The last 20 miles were hard as I fought to stay awake, sticking my head out of the window as the blast of cold air reinvigorated my senses. I made it home and basically fell on the bed and I didn't move until the alarm when off at 7:00 starting yet another day.

Run for the Border

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 17:26:00 PDT

Last season nearly every steelheader did some type of rain dance, prayed at church, or secretly performed some type of sacrifice behind the woodshed. Unfortunately the fish gods would have none of it. Once in a while we got a sprinkle and we were thankful for that. This season, the opposite has happened - rainfall by the buckets. So far to date, we've nearly broken the record for most precipitation in one year here in Northeastern Ohio. Since September, we've received rain nearly every week. The majority of steelheaders are not complaining and many will say bring more rain.

With heavy rainfall also meant a lot of days lost to rivers blowing out. That's where a PA license comes in handy. So far, my license has been paying dividends especially during the first time out. When Friday rolled around I could see another large green blob invading Ohio on the weather channel and the weather honks were calling for 80% chance of rain. The honks got it right as it started raining late Friday, as I watched the flow gauges creep up and finally spike into the "your fishing for the weekend is toast" category. I clicked on the Elk's flow and it was in the "go fish" zone.

Amish Farmhouse - Middlefield

Saturday morning I woke to see that almost all of the Ohio tribs out east had blown out. The only rivers that escaped the rain were the Rock and Vermilion. During the early fall, I'll avoid the Rock like the plague as it attracts some of the dumbest anglers in the area and the Vermilion is off my radar during the month of October. But when I checked the weather for Erie, I could see a large green blob parked over the lake. I hoped it would be light rain and the flow gauge was starting to crept up. That afternoon, I decided to go for a road trip out east. I often like to drive the rural roads where ever I go. One of my favorite drives are the country roads of Geauga and Ashtabula counties. The drive was much better as I replaced the shocks on the Jeep. Prior to that it had the handling characteristics of a boat riding on choppy water.

The fall colors were bright against the dull grey skies, the weather on the other hand was down right nasty - gusting cold winds and low clouds. I brought the camera along and snapped some pictures of old barns and farm houses around Amish country in Middlefield. Whenever, I'm there I'll stop at Middlefield cheese for their great Swiss cheeses. I drove north towards to the sleepy hamlet of Thompson as many wineries that found in that area. I crossed one feeder creek that ran into the Grand and it was ripping pretty good. After several hours of driving the roads, my stomach started talking and I stopped in Willoughby's historic downtown and eat at one of the many restaurants found along that section of the street. Dinner was bummer as I had a pulled chicken pizza. It should of been called the tossed lettuce pizza because chicken was far and few between.

Geauga County Farm

When I arrived home, I checked the flow for the Elk and as I expected it shot up to nearly 140 on the gauge. I wasn't too worried even though the Elk was a raging torrent it can drop 2 feet overnight so I was confident enough to tie some sacs for tomorrow's trip. I called Dave and he agreed that the Elk would fish and if it didn't we had other options to go to.

I woke at 4:30 and the Elk as I predicted dropped back down to respectable 30 on the gauge - a tad high, but great for goober size sacs. We made the drive out and arrived at first light. As expected there wasn't anybody around and we walked down to the creek. It was high and the visibility wasn't great, but it was fishable in my books. The only thing that concern me was the flow as I thought it was a little too strong for my liking, as the bottom here lacked a lot of structure. We fished breaks in the current and nothing was hitting. I walked down to fish some pocket water and stirred up a fish resting at a tailout. I watched four anglers walk down and mill about debating whether to stay or go. I could see the looks on their faces that drove a far distance and conditions were not what they expected. It probably didn't help that they had spinners and flatfish. We planned a move and I planted a stick in the water to see how far down it would drop if decided to come back later.

Winery off the Grand River

We drove farther down and the number of people was a lot lower than the previous time out. We were practically at the lake's doorstep and the water here was even more dirtier. Most of the angler were using lures and all of them were a little cranky that nothing was hitting. I could barely see pass my knees, however in Ohio, I fish this type of water all the time. We banged away and nothing was hitting. We figured maybe the lake was rough that the fish didn't push in as the crashing surf would of pounded them into patties. It was two hours in and no fish so I made the call to head up river, figuring the creek was a little cleaner. We pulled in the lot was almost empty, about 2 cars which for a Sunday is unheard of. The creek here was a lot cleaner, but had a slight stain to it.

Even though Pennsylvania stocks a gazillion fish, the fishing can be either boom or bust. As I mention before, many locals feel a 10 fish day is lousy, even pathetic. Today was a tough day in steelhead Shangri-La as we had to work for them. All of the fish we caught had been in the river for several weeks and I figured most of the fish were in the mid and high sections. Nothing was crammed like sardines in the pools and runs. We was two or three fish here and there and you had to pound the pavement so to speak if you wanted good numbers. We returned to the same spot that we fished at first light and the creek dropped about 4" in a period of 7 hours. Just shows you how fast Pennsylvania's streams can drop and in a couple of days all of them will be low and clear.

The Skunk is Back

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 14:37:00 PDT

Summer doesn't want to leave Steelhead Alley anytime soon and that's fine with everybody. People here are taking advantage of the beautiful weekend weather and the fall colors make it that more special. What a difference a week can make, as last Sunday it felt more like November and this weekend it felt like July. Earlier in the week, we received more rain that raised the rivers and many hoped that some more fish pushed in. By the time the weekend rolled around the rivers were coming down to fishable levels, time to get my fish on.

I would be fishing solo as several friends were out chasing walleye and some hunting up in Michigan's UP. Today, I would make the trek to one of my favorite rivers out east. It had been some time since I last fished it and the past spring was one of the most disappointing in recent memory. I left in the wee hours of the morning driving through Cleveland as many of it citizens were still sleeping. The city's buildings glowed as I crossed the Cuyahoga River. The urban landscape quickly changed as I entered Lake County. There wasn't that much traffic and the Tragically Hip and mug full of hot coffee kept me company. I exited the interstate and drove north into town and down to the lower section of the river. It was first light and there were about 8 cars parked along the road. On this section of the river it wasn't hard to figure out where most of the people would be. I pulled along the road and when I opened the door, I was greeted by the wonderful odor of rotting deer entrails that were dumped in the ditch. I quickly dressed as my senses were being bombarded and raced towards the river.

The river was running low and clear, but I had a great knowledge of where the fish hid in these conditions. I walked upstream passing a group of anglers clustered at one popular spot. The first spot I fished was a small riffle that spilled into a small pool that cut along the bank. The current hugged it and cut hard into a large tree that fell into the river during the summer. I had different jars of salmon eggs cured with Firecure, Flashcure and BorXofire. Drifting along the seam the float started tapping and dipping. I sighed because it meant one thing - chubs. It was going to be one of the those days many steelheaders hate during the fall - chubbing. Chubs can be major pain in the ass for the steelheader. I rank them somewhere between raging hemorrhoids and the 2011 Buckeyes. They gobble spawn sacs with reckless abandon and give fly fishermen fits as their teasing hits are often mistaken for a steelhead. If you hate chubs, I suggest fishing the Rock as for some reasons unknown, they're absent from that river.

I started banging pocket water on my way upstream and it was the same result - chubs and no steelhead. As I continued to walk, I found the source of the lousy fishing - a dead skunk lying in the river. It was an amusing sight when I came upon it and I couldn't resist taking a picture. But I couldn't blame the skunk for the terrible fishing. It was hard to say how far the fish pushed up and maybe the bite was off this morning. I didn't mind as I took in fall colors as some of the trees were blazed in reds, oranges and yellows.

I knew this section wasn't going to produce and you know it's a terrible morning when one of the most popular spots is void of anglers at 9:30A.M. I walked downstream to another spot were fish stage before heading upstream as the river is deeper and more stained. I walked along the trail I noticed in the distance that it was wider. I guess the lake must of been a little higher this year. I looked down to see that the gravel bar was about a foot under water and the flow was barely noticeable. I knew the fishing here wasn't in the cards and it was time to head to plan B.

I arrived at the next river and the sun was high in the sky. The temperature already in the 70s and the parking lot was packed. I walked down the trial and immediately turned left not bothering with the long pool as it probably been pounded all morning. I walked along river looked downstream to see one guy flinging and swinging his spey rod and mixture of people standing on the bank or in the water. Usually when it's bright, I'll fish riffles and pocket water. During the fall the majority of anglers target deeper slower water believing that steelhead prefer to be in that type of water. That might be true, but I prefer to go after fish that haven't seen every colored sac under the rainbow.

I fished a series of riffles targeting the seams and pocket water. The first fish of the day was a feisty male that hit a white sac. The section produced two more fish and I was starting roast in my jacket. It was early afternoon and I felt the sweat dripping down my back. I forgot to bring water and I felt parched as I walked back. The pool farther down only had two anglers and most of the people I talked to told me they missed the party. So far this season, we received more rain than the entire months of September and October combined. Hard to believe it's only the 2nd week of October.

I Love Lousy Weather

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 09 Oct 2011 16:32:00 PDT

Lousy weather brings a smile to my face and it's even more special early in the season. Last week, I was discussing plans for the upcoming weekend. The outlook for later in the week was calling for rain and below average temperatures. If the rain blew out the streams in Ohio, then we would skip over the border to Pennsylvania. I'll only fish Pennsylvania out of desperation because I don't play well with others. Maybe old age has mellowed me out, but it made sense to have a back up plan when things here are not so great. In the past, I've often resisted getting a Pennsylvania license because of the cost, distance and most of the time the streams there often run low and clear. But Pennsylvania has ridiculous numbers of fish and when conditions are primed, you can hit double digits in less than an hour.

Friday came and so did the rain. Work wise it was a washout as I had to rescheduled several jobs. To kill time I drove along Chagrin River road near the village of Gates Mills. The Chagrin was starting to rise as I could see several small feeder creeks pumping in silt laden water. I knew fishing in Ohio was out of the question for Sunday. Saturday morning it was still raining and I checked the flow gauges and found the rivers had blown out. Pennsylvania's on the other hand had peaked and were starting to drop. Unlike Ohio's streams, Pennsylvania rise and drop like if somebody flushed a toilet.

That morning I drove over to Gander Mountain to get my license. What should of been a couple of minutes turned into an ordeal as the clerk had trouble processing my information. It kept kicking back my social security number as an error. She called the Pennsylvania boat and fish commission and they finally corrected the problem. It turned out that my Ohio drivers license, when swiped still had my old address and the computer got confused as it thought I had another file opened. Got to love the state government! After 20 minutes, I looked over to see the monster line up I created. I opted for the annual license and with the Lake Erie permit it cost me $62.00 and I was going to make sure I got my money's worth before it expires at the end of the year.

Pennsylvania's steelhead program has it's fair share of critics and supporters. For the supporters, it's a ton of fish and most of the locals are spoiled rotten with the bounty. For them a 10 fish day is a disappointment. When I first moved here I heard stories of people catching a 100 fish when conditions were right. I scoffed when I heard that as there was no way creeks that small could hold that many fish. It sounded like one of those tales of some far off land filled with mythical creatures. My skepticism of those insane numbers of fish was quickly put to rest when I fished the Elk several years ago during the month of November. When I arrived the stream was high and dirty. There wasn't a soul there and I annihilated nearly every spot I fished. I lost count but I figured I was well over 50 fish as I usually carry about 100 sacs give or take. The critics on the other hand feel that the state overloads streams that couldn't support that many fish in natural conditions. But I'll bet those same critics will have a shit eating grin on their faces when they're nailing fish.

The evening was spent stinking up the kitchen tying sacs and watching Wisconsin blow out Nebraska. I didn't get to bed until 12:30 and I knew I would pay for it as I rarely get a good night of sleep anymore. The alarm blared at 5:00A.M as I groggily crawled out of bed. I checked the flow gauge and the stream was perfect. I brewed some industrial strength coffee and wolfed down some eggs and bacon. I packed up the gear and carried everything outside. When I opened the door the crisp cold air jolted me. Even though it was October 2nd it felt more like November 2nd. The wind was howling and the temperature was barely out of the 40s. The boys showed up just as tired as I was and Dave was the chauffeur as Bubba needed to cop a few more z's.

We got to the river around first light and couldn't decide where to fish. We stopped at the access closest to the lake. We could see about 30 cars in the lot and a large cluster of people sitting on the rocks and others in the water. We could hear the waves crashing into the shore and the wind was roaring. The flow was barely noticeable and the action was uneventful. We changed and got back into the truck headed down stream. I've never fished this low as I preferred to the upper sections to get away from the crowds. This was also the first time I fished in Pennsylvania on a weekend.

We picked one section that is popular but then again every spot on the river is popular. When we arrived there were two vehicles. But that would change as the morning progressed. We walked down the trial and we could see four anglers - two bait fishing and the other two fly fishing. The other guys walked up and I fished a riffle below. The key to fishing Pennsylvania's streams is not overlooking the tiniest spots because hiding spots are at a premium. I tossed the float and drifted along the seam. It boggled and I set the hook. The rod throbbed and it was the first fish of the morning. This fish raced downstream, full of fight. It was a nice chunky hen that fell for a pink sac.

I quickly got into another fish and after that I didn't get another hit. Bubba got a couple of fish but it was slow. Nobody was banging them as I had no idea how early the other anglers got there. I walked up to join the guys and it was still slow. I used cured and uncured eggs and still got no hits. I started getting antsy and I needed to move. I can't help it as I'm not one of those guys that can stand in one spot for hours on end. I made the move downstream and wanted to explore to see what lied ahead. There were several fly guys fishing fast water. None of them were hooking up and I noticed a large tree lying in the water. I knew somewhere in there was some fish. Sure enough the spot coughed up a couple of fish and I got freight trained by another as it snap the line before I could even react. But after that all was quiet and I wondered how the others were doing upstream.

We moved back up to the same spot and then it was like the switch went off. We started hooking up like crazy. It was like a conga line as one of us was walking a fish downstream to be released followed by another. The hot ticket was uncured eggs and the fish had a hankering for them. As expected whenever others are hooking up, the level of douchebagginess starts to come out from the other anglers. One young angler fly fishing started to muscle in on our spot, but his attempts were futile. We were still banging them as he moved from spot to spot. Sorry dude, but dirty deep water, #14 sucker spawn and fish holding tight along the bank equals zero hits. He slowly slinked off to more shallow water in hopes of catching a fish. The action tailed off and we decided to hit one more spot before heading home.

It was nearly noon and there were a lot of people out fishing. We fished yet another popular spot and the action was slow, but I didn't care as I had my fill and was happily sated. So far this is fall has been far better than last year and hopefully we've turned the corner. Glad to throw that nasty ole skunk off my neck.

The Skunk Got Handed To Me

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 17:39:00 PDT

Yesterday ushered in the first day of autumn, but summer didn't want to relinquish its time here in Steelhead Alley. For many that was perfectly fine as the temperature was to be in the mid 70s. With the beautiful weather on Sunday that meant most anglers in the area were out on the lake fishing for perch. For the steelheaders, the diehards were scattered across the alley. During the week we received more rain. Unfortunately the far east got nothing but a tinkle. As expected there the fish were parked in the lower reaches waiting impatiently as they've endured a barrage of spoons, flies and goober sized sacs over the past couple of weeks. Early season steelheading in Pennsylvania can be described in one word - clusterfuck. I've seen pictures of people surrounding one hole about the size of a kiddie pool with a dozen fish in it. The water is as clear as a fish bowl and all of the anglers are determined to get one of them to bite. I've often said that for punishment such as poaching or fishing without a license, that person should be forced to fish the Project Waters on the Walnut for the entire season.

For once it was nice not having to drive. I sat back and enjoyed a coffee as I was offered a breakfast burrito. Just what I need to go with a stomach full eggs and bacon. We arrived at first light and there were a couple of cars in the lot. In the coming weeks, the number of people will increase, but by then the all of the rivers will have fish and their will be plenty of room to fish.

During the past week I've cured several jars of fresh coho eggs. Generally during the early part of the season, I'm reluctant to use them. Instead, I use eggs from last season and sometimes it's a flip of a coin whether there good or not. The night before I thawed a pack out dated 12/4/10, the eggs looked firm and bright. The skein I used last week worked great as it was juicy and left a nice slick on the water. I ended up with one jar of skein and loose eggs.

We went back to the same river and fished the same section. It started off like last week - uneventful. For the first couple of hours two skippers were caught at the head of the run in faster broken water. Boredom started to settle in and I felt the urge to move. We walked upstream to the faster pocket water where I caught my first fish of the season. Once again, I couldn't find any takers, not even a chub. Dave and Bubba were fishing the tailout when I heard Dave yell out. I turned to see he had a large fish that was running wild. Bubba tried to get line out of the way. I watched a large bright fish explode from the water and it quickly broke the line. That's why early fall is so fun as the fish are fresh and the warmer water gives them energy to wreak havoc.

As the morning progress I my left foot starting to get wet and I sighed. Earlier in the week, I saturated the insides of my waders trying to see any dark spots that would reveal the source of my leaks. Unfortunately, isopropyl alcohol can only reveal so much. I hoped the patch job would slow the deluge to a trickle. Instead my foot got wetter and wetter and it started to make that annoying sloshing sound. Luckily the water was still in the 60s and it was nothing more than a slight annoyance. If it was December more than likely I would probably suffer extreme discomfort and depending on the fishing, I would either toughed it out or bale and head to the nearest store for new waders.

With the super soaker, I struggled to walk in my boots as they spit out some of the cleats I screwed in last night. I really regret buying those Chotas Rock Loc as they have an insatiable appetite for cleats. On Chotas website they state that the boots have great traction. I call bullshit as it feels like I'm wearing skates. As I walked, I slipped and slided on the bottom as everybody here knows how slick shale rocks can be.

Last time out both me and Dave caught our first fish of the season. Bubba on the other hand posted a shutout. It was mid morning when Bubba finally shook the skunk off and I was left holding it. It was a nice fish unfortunately due to Bubba's massive girth the fish looked like a wee minnow as I took the money shot. For me it was a fruitless morning as I worked and reworked the spots trying to get a hit. It was one of those days we all experience - nothing goes right. The leaking waders, line issues and not getting any action. We got back to the truck, I pulled my waders off and you could hear the water splash out. My socks were completely soaked as were the bottoms of my fleece pants. Both of my feet were pasty white and terribly pruned.

It was in most part a slow day as one fish was caught here and there. With latest high water, we thought more would push in but as I said before you have to be in the right place at the right time. Tomorrow will another day painstakingly looking for those troublesome leaks. Hopefully next week I'll be tossing the skunk around somebody else's neck

The Skunk Is Off

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 18 Sep 2011 15:05:00 PDT

Cool weather over the past week has stirred many diehard steelheaders out of hibernation. Old friends are starting to call one another for the latest happenings and any shred of information. Over the past week, I've started stocking missing floats, hooks, and sinkers. Replaced the line, cleaned the reel, and inspected the boots for missing cleats. For this diehard, the past spring was a distant memory albeit a bad one. I was so disappointed with the spring run that I stopped fishing in the middle of April. Many were hoping that this season would be much better than the previous one.

During the past week, we had scattered storms come off the lake and from the south. The end result was some streams rose and others were bone dry. The streams way out east didn't receive any so that crossed off several from the list. Several streams close by were running slightly lower but I didn't want to deal with elbows and assholes. We decided to head to one our favorite river and turned out to be a great decision.

The alarm buzzed acting like a starter's gun, telling me the marathon has begun. It was still dark out as I stumbled down to the hallway to the kitchen. Filling the coffee pot and cooking bacon and eggs in the frying pan. I thought about last season and how terrible it was. A couple weeks ago me and several friends talked about what the upcoming season would be like. Some thought it would be a repeat as these types of things usually don't turn around in one year and others hoped it was a fluke. Me being the eternal optimist, hoped the fish would return in bigger numbers. Walking out the door, I was greeted with the crisp, cool air and I could see the faint light on the horizon. I checked the tote box to make sure that I had everything. The forecast for the day was calling for sunny skies and summer like 72F. I arrived at the river at first light as a couple of friends pulled in. The last time we fished here was in late March and we crushed them that day.

We walked down the trail and could see the river was low, but had a good flow and color. Upstream we could see 4 anglers fishing one popular spot. The day before I picked up some fresh salmon skein and tied some sacs. In the other jar was sacs I froze in April. In the past, I've had issues with old sacs that spent the entire summer hidden deep in the freezer under massive piles of chicken, pork chops and steaks. I thawed them out and they looked and smelled all right, but then again I'm not a steelhead.

With it being so early in the season, we knew the number of fish would be low. In Ohio, the number of fish tend to be in the low numbers, as some of them start to trickle into the lower reaches of the rivers. It's usually the most experienced and dedicated steelheaders that find them. The water still felt warm to the touch and September is a month where you have to be at the right place at the right time. We started off at the long pool, working in tandem looking for that certain holding spot. Another angler was fishing and told us nothing was caught and didn't see or hear any fish rolling. I still find it odd fishing for steelhead when the trees are green with leaves and reeds tall.

The first fish of the year was Dave's - a typical Steelhead Alley steelhead about 24" and 4 pounds. He was the first to get the skunk off and we had our work cut out for us. We gradually shuffled down the pool hoping for that tell tale hit of a steelhead. But there was none and we walked downstream to fish a large deep sweeping pool that is usually better when the water is colder and lower. But in early fall it provides the wary steelhead the shelter and safety they seek when conditions are bright. But turned out to a productive spot for catfish as another angler farther down was drifting sacs along some downed trees. We chuckled as we thought he might be drifting chicken liver flavor sacs but both fish were fairly fat and full of spunk.

I was still wearing the skunk and to make matters worse, both of my feet were starting to get wet because of leaks in my waders. I had all summer to make repairs and I kept procrastinating. I have come to terms that no matter what brand of waders I have, I'll eventually spring leaks. With the water being warm, it was bearable but there is no way I'll stand for that in the frigid months to come. So wader repair is a top priority this week.

The same spot farther up that we fished in the morning, still failed to produce me the first elusive fish of the new season. I had to start thinking like a fish. Where would I be when the water is warm and low and the skies bright? The first thing that popped in my head was pocket water. There were a series of cuts and pocket water that rushed around several large rocks. I took a sac that contained fresh salmon skein and drifted along one seam and the float shot under and I felt that tell tale throbbing and explosive run of a steelhead. The fished charged out into the middle of the river and raced up and down. Being mindfully that warmer water can stress fish, I quickly brought it in. It was bright and shiny as a newly minted coin. The skunk was off my neck and I took a quick shot and released it. The same spot produced two more fish, both were juveniles as one leaped from the water and fought like a 10 pounder. The other was a little more than 12" and it's hard to believe that 6 months ago it was a 8" smolt. In that span the fish almost doubled in size and is testament of the productive waters of Lake Erie.

It was late morning when we returned downstream to the same spot and the 2 anglers that fished with had caught 6 fish, most of them skippers. By then it the sun was high in the sky and the fish had shut down. I couldn't complain as it only September 18th and better days are ahead.

Lazy Days

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sun, 10 Jul 2011 13:54:00 PDT

Finally, I can wet a line. During the past several weeks I've been slammed with work and I've had very little time to do anything else. Even with the down time, the heat and humidity has basically sapped whatever little energy I have left over. Maybe it's my way of reserving energy for the upcoming steelhead season. Summer is like a fasting for me as I wait patiently for the cool winds to whip across Lake Erie and the early morning crispness of late September that starts me stirring.

The times I wanted to fish, the weekly late afternoon thunderstorms have trashed the streams. This weekend the weather was perfect, albeit very bright and hot. I didn't stray far from home and fished the Rock for carp. The river was very low, barely flowing and the deeper pool took on that murky color from the silt and algae. I fished one my favorite spots along the muni golf course as I've done well there in the past. The water was extremely warm and had a somewhat smelly odor. That's probably due to the algae scum slowly baking in the sun or maybe I'm naive that I'm actually wading through untreated sewage. I probably wouldn't want to know what the water quality is like and I probably shouldn't inquire. But only if some hideous red pus filled sore showed up on my lower extremities then I'll will inquire.

This sycamore is one of the biggest and tallest trees in the park

As with the steelhead, the number of carp in the river during the past several years has been lower. In past years, there would be at least a 100 fish in the several pools, but today your lucky to see maybe 20 fish per pool. It seems to be a common theme across steelhead alley as the number of fish in the lake and rivers are lower. I could see several fish loitering under the branches of several downed trees. Usually that's not a good sign as the fish are too lazy because of the heat. I tossed some corn in good faith that I could get some to come out and play. But, they ignored my offerings as they're probably sick and tired of corn being tossed by the many locals.

I did find a couple of players cruising the flats looking for food. Several of them were on the larger size and I was still trying to perfect my "stealth" technique. I tied on a #6 hex nymph that could pass off as either a dragonfly nymph or grossly deformed crayfish. With a couple of false casts, I casted the fly several feet away from one fish. I watched the fly slowly drop to the bottom and I slowly stripped it in. The fish had its face buried in the bottom and the slow movement of the fly caught its attention. It slowly turned in the direction, not sure what to make of it. I twitched the fly and fish started to inch closer debating whether to eat it or ignore it. Not wanting to go home empty handed I twitched it again and the fish bought it. It inhaled it and I quickly set the hook. The fish bolted downstream looking for any cover trying in vain to snap the line. Luckily there wasn't any and the fish was tanked after it blistering initial run. It wasn't the prettiest looking fish as it had some red sore near the tail and anal fins.

I wanted to fish some more but unfortunately, I couldn't find my neoprene socks and I paid for it. Blisters and the back of my feet rubbed raw. Not wanting to flirt with some infectious unknown waterborne disease or parasite, I decided to call it a day. I hobbled back to the car, thinking about the colder days ahead because I can't believe how fast this summer is going.

Vancouver just isn't fun.....it's a riot

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 20:42:00 PDT

Another hockey season has come to an end and thankfully the Vancouver Canooks got there asses handed to them by the Bruins. I had the Bruins in the seven and if there is one city that I despise, that is the smug, self absorbed shit hole called Vancouver. The Canucks were lucky in the first two games as they scored with less than a minute in the first game and 30 seconds into overtime the second game. But, what shifted the momentum was the hit on Horton by Rome. The Bruins were pissed at what many thought was a dirty hit. After that they basically man handled them and to rub more salt in the wound they won it on their turf.

There is plenty of blame to go around why the Canooks lost. The Chicken Swedes aka the Sedin sisters basically disappeared and my 13 year old nephew could rough the both of them up. Alex Burrows thought he was playing soccer because he dived on every hit and nobody knew what Roberto LeBrongo would show up, the guy who posted a shut out or let in goals at a record pace.

As expected some of the canuck fans didn't take losing the cup well. As they did in 1994, after losing the finals to the Rangers, all hell broke loose as thousands on the streets fueled by alcohol and stupidity destroyed the downtown. They left a path of destruction and humiliated an entire nation. Way to stay classy Vancouver.

Nice to see another original six team finally win the cup.........

More Gear Reviews

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 14:21:00 PDT

Some of my equipment has surpassed two seasons, so here's how they fared so far.

Wright & McGill Big Horn Wading Jacket

This jacket has basically lost all of its waterproofing and breathing ability, when it's soaked it weights a ton. But that's mostly my fault because I treat everything like shit. I look like a homeless steelheader. The front of the jacket is covered in sac spooge and a couple of zippers are broken. But, I love the jacket because of the pockets and it's price. I couldn't see myself dropping $300.00 on a Simms or Patagonia and caking it with spooge or leaving it in the tote box on top of wet waders for several weeks.

Orvis Pro Guide Waders

I got a deal on them from a friend who is a guide and that's the only reason I bought. To date they are the most expensive ones I bought. So far I've sprung a few leaks, but they've held up well. As with the jacket some sections are covered in spooge. It needs to be cleaned, because I'm having some breathing issues with it. It's very comfortable and light.

Kinpin Series II reel

The Purple steelie eater has a lot of mileage on it and it hasn't miss a beat. There are plenty of nicks and scratches on it but I still still get comments on how nice it looks. I've only oiled the bearings once and it starts like a champ on the coldest days. But I have my eye on one of those Imperials.......

G Loomis GLX 13' float rod

Probably the best $500.00 spent. It's hauled in a ton of steelhead, carp, branches and the odd catfish. Light as a feather and I don't bitch about my shoulder anymore. There are some grooves in the titanium guides and the top handle is wearing out as I've had my reel slip out a couple of time.

Raven IM6 13'6" float rod

It's basically my back up rod and I rarely use it. When I took my girlfriend fishing in 2009, she hooked into a tarpon sized branch on the Grand. I grabbed the rod and tried to pop the hook out, but the load and the current was too much and the tip snapped - double D'oh! It was the 2nd time it broke in the same spot. I took it Craig's at Erie Outfitter and for $30.00 I received a brand new rod.

Over Eager Canucks Fan?

noreply@blogger.com (Greg Lum) — Thu, 19 May 2011 14:33:00 PDT

Didn't get to see this on Versus, but I heard about on the local sports show in Cleveland about some girl flashing her tits at Shark's Ben Eager. The challenge has been issued...come on San Jose girls let see you top this!