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I needed a break, a vacation. It’s too long a story to explain here, but Myron and Ann had just the place I needed for a couple of days. I should admit that I love to fish the North Fork in the management area. There is always something special about natural wild trout, and ROLF is the perfect scratch for this itch.
After church on Sunday, March 23, I packed the truck and took off. After a good nights rest in the
Tree
House, I set out on my trout fishing adventure on Monday. By the way, how could you NOT sleep well in that outstanding cabin in the trees.
Usually I like to canoe the river, but not this time, I had another plan. My plan was to fish from Rainbow Alley down to Cave Riffle, just below ROLF. I asked Myron to escort me up to Rainbow Alley, about a half mile up from his house. I tied on the classic North Fork nymphing rig, a #4 black double bead head chenille stonie and a #18 black mayfly nymph. I’d tell you what type mayfly nymph I was using, but it’s my own concoction. I’m not sure it matters anyway. After Myron dropped me off, I waded off to Rainbow Alley.
Now I wade in. I am excited. I have faith. I can’t wait to drop this rig in front of the waiting trout. I drop my rig in the water and let some line out. I lift and cast back up stream. But my strike indicator never floats down out of the air. I never saw this on the video. I follow my line up, but not down to the water. I wrapped my carefully tied rig around a tree limb.
I’m not about to give this rig up that easily. So I wade into the rapids to recover this trout catcher. I flick my rod tip a couple of times, and nothing. I know enough not to stress my rod too much. So I wade into a better position. Now I have one hand holding the rod and the other holding the line and I am in North Fork rapids. There’s a point when I was falling into the water that my mind was telling me, "it’s okay, it won’t be that cold." My mind was wrong. I can tell you this: the water is cold. Thankfully, It was shallow, so I didn’t take on much water. Just enough slipped over my waders to remind me I don’t want to that again. The best part is, I didn’t break my line or my rod and I recovered my rig.
I begin to fish for real now. After I work my way down a little ways, fishing the seams, I hook my first of 8 fish. A hogbow! This bow is a beauty, almost 18 inches. God is smiling. I’m smiling. I raise a finger to heaven in thanksgiving. As I work my way all the way through the riffle and beyond I land 4 more fish. I have 3 more on, but they spit the hook. Each fish was gorgeous. Fat and feisty hogs, that provided me a moment of fishing flow. Each fish took the nymph and left the stonie.
I move into the next riffle, the last one before the falls. I’ve always skipped this one before. What a mistake. I carefully look for large rocks and crevices where fish might hide. Again, I land 3 fat bows and lose 3. My rig never changes and the small nymph delivers like a champ.
What made my morning so remarkable is that the bows where all around 15 inches, except one. The rest of the day was fine. I caught a fish at the falls but there were other people in the next two runs. That evening I did catch two decent brownies on a #16 Elk hair caddis. I could hardly wait for day two.
Getting up in the morning I wanted more of the same so I went back to Rainbow Alley. The first thing I spotted was that tree. I started a safe distance from there. I used a similar rig, this time a #4 black chenille rubber leg stonie and a black #18 pheasant tail nymph. First cast and I snagged a rock. I knew better this time so I broke it off. I rerigged. I put on the same kind of stonie, but this time I tried something different with the nymph. I put on a #20 lime green (chartreuse) copper John with 6x tippet for the point fly. As if yesterday wasn’t special enough, something truly blessed was about to happen. I fished the same seams. I hooked two nice fish, but they spit the fly. I had another nice fish on and worked it for a while, but the blast thing snagged my stonie on a rock and got away.
Then I saw my strike indicator go down. As I lifted the rod I knew I had another nice fish. The hog took off down steam taking line. I knew I couldn’t last long unless I followed the fish. I walked back toward shore and followed this angry hog. As soon as I would get this fish toward shore, it would take off back into the current and down stream we would go. When I finally got a look at this trout, I knew it was special. Well, 15 minutes and 50 yards later, I landed a 22 inch brownie. My arm was pleasantly tired.
I decide to go back for more. My very next cast and another hog from the pen takes that little bright green baby. Again the hog takes my down stream, and again I move toward shore and follow at the mercy of yet another fighter. When I land this one I have a 18" brownie.
I pause after this fish and look up and say "thank you, Lord." Then I go back for more. I catch a couple more nice bows. Then I move down. On my way down I managed to snag and lose my Chartreuse marvel. So I tie on a #20 hare’s ear nymph.
When I get to the next riffle I smile to myself realizing that today was already special. Besides, my arm was getting tired. I go back to the same area midway down the riffle. I miss a couple of fish. Then my strike indicator goes down, when I pull back I feel the head shake. But nothing is moving. I think I have another snag so I let the line go slack and pull back again to free my fly. Nothing. So I shake my rod tip. To my surprise the rod shakes back. Once this hog realizes it’s hooked it zips out into the current. Here we go again. Another 50 yards and 15 minutes and I land a 20 inch browning on the hare’s ear.
By now my arm is past numb and I realize I need to do more curls. I pause and think about going back up stream to the same spot. "Why not" I conclude and go back. After a few casts, the magic strikes yet again. This time I see that the trout took the stonie. I know I can muscle this one. But this bad boy is a fighter, and when I finally land this hog I have a solid 16 inch bow.
Now my arm is sore and it’s time to go. Forget the curls, I’d rather get my work outs at ROLF catching fish just like this. In two days I caught 3 of the biggest brownies I’ve ever caught, to say nothing of the huge bows. To paraphrase one of my favorite theologians, CFW Walther, when a person is in Christ even trout fishing is a God blessed activity. For two days I was blessed.
Rev. Jeff Meyers
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