Turkey Day Fishing

Elk Creek, Pennsylvania

Steelhead Alley has its own version of Black Friday. Just like shoppers that cringe at the thought of people beating one another just to get the 3 laptop computers listed at $299.00 or freezing their ass off waiting in line for hours. The same can be said about the streams the day after Thanksgiving when everybody needs to escape from the in-laws or the kids. The streams are packed and this is the reason why I often skip the day after Turkey day and sleep in.

Since all of my family lives in Canada, 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 that certain brand of cranberry sauce or entertaining 10 kids. I'm sure all of them were wishing they were on the river. The mornings might be crowded as some get a pass to fish for a few hours. By noon, most rivers are vacant except for a few souls. It's refreshing to have an entire river to myself and after a long day, I was the last person to leave.

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 starts Monday. Wednesday night I watched the flow gauge on the Elk start to creep up into that "it might blowout" 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 in the morning, we drove separately as I wanted to stay longer. The drive took longer than expected because the others weren't as lead footed as I was. The cruise was set at an annoying 65mph. I groused for a little bit that other people would be on the water by the time we got there.

Elk Creek steelhead

However, when we pulled in at first light, nobody was there. We walked down and the creek was dirty and somewhere in that murkiness, there might be a lot of fish. Usually in Pennsylvania when the water comes up, a boatload of fish will come in. 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 banging fish in every spot.

As I've said in the past, nothing beats an uncured egg. There is something about an all natural egg. Curing eggs is an exact science. There's plenty of guys who swear to about their own personal cures. I heard all about the borax, brown sugar, anise oil and so on. There's one guy who I jokingly refer to Colonel Sanders because he has that secret recipe of 11 herbs and spices. His cured eggs work very well much to the chagrin of others. He would rather die than give up his secret recipe. I, on the other hand, am not the mad scientist type. Salmon eggs are hard to come by for me, so I'm not the type to experiment and hope that the latest batch works. Uncured eggs do have limitations. They don't last as long and you have to replace them after several drifts. The only cure I use is Flashcure. I've found out that uncured eggs can last about 5 days before they start becoming foul in odor. I simply put the sacs in a ziplock bag and sprinkle on some on. I simply shake the bag and throw them in the fridge.

Elk Creek steelhead

Today, my eggs are outfishing everybody. To the fish, they're little nuggets of crack. It was a hoot when I placed a fresh sac on the hook, cast out and watch the float go under. I watch the others floats go by and then I cast out and pop goes the float. Dave demands that I stop hoarding my eggs as it was the day of giving. I begrudgingly gave in and tossed him one sac. Sure enough, he hooked into a fish and I just chuckled as I handed him another. The pools and run give up plenty of fish. But the good times must come to an end. 

Around noon, the others had to leave and I wished them a Happy Thanksgiving. I see them head upstream and gradually disappear around the corner. I start to wander downstream and plug away. Nearly every spot, no matter how big or small, gives up fish. I look downstream there's not one person out. The only thing that keeps me company is a couple of chickadees, chattering above me. The number of fish continue to pile up as I'm well into the double digits. I've probably landed well over 50 fish, but I notice I'm down to 6 sacs in my last jar. I decided to fish one section of fast water running along the bank. The bubble line tells me where to cast. I use up the last of my sacs fairly quickly. 

I start the long walk back. By now, the guys are probably home enjoying time with their families. I do get a sense of sadness that I when I return home, it will leftovers in the fridge and I'll watch a football game. As I walk back, the creek is a very quiet place. That quiet will be replaced tomorrow by boisterous voices and sounds of boots over the rocks as anglers race to their favorite spots. As expected when I cross over, I see my Jeep and it's the only car left. I undress and quickly head up the hill. By the time I get home, it will be dark. 

As for tomorrow, the Elk will be the Alley's version of Black Friday. As for me, I'll be in bed getting some much needed sleep. 

Tale of Three Rivers

All of Steelhead Alley's streams are generally the same. All of them run over shale bedrock, have mud banks, gravel beds, 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's where the similarities stop. One river might get a monster run and others might get a wee one. That's the result of Lake Erie's steelhead not imprinting well enough on their river of stocking. The smolts are lucky to spend several weeks before being unceremoniously flushed into the lake after a high water event. 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 didn't had a clue on where to go. 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 temperatures in the 30s and that meant working the tailouts. I could see everybody at the spot downstream. I have a photogenic memory and I know the lower end of the river very well. I knew there was a shale ledge towards the tailout right below a willow tree hanging the over the spot. I started yanking fish out of that spot in no time. During my time at that spot, I would look downstream and see the group of anglers not doing a lot. Sooner or later they would 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. I resumed fishing and looked over my shoulder and watched them walk up and around the corner. I continued to bang fish and eventually I cleaned the spot. 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. There were plenty of fish from top to bottom and like the last spot, it was polluted with skippers. I blew through sacs in no time and ran out around lunchtime. I should tied more last night, but I do hate the long and tedious task of tying them. On the way home, 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 for steelhead and the owner of the shop Craig helped him out. He asked one of his good friend who happens to be a fishing friend mine. 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. Conneaut on the weekend is a bustling place especially during the month of November. We arrive while it was still dark and we could several anglers gearing up. When they spotted our 3 vehicles pulling in, they dressed with a sense of urgency. I was surprised that they didn't grab all their gear and race to the 20 hole. I wasn't terribly worried because I mentioned they would hit the 20 hole. Sure enough, they were at the hole and they probably wouldn't budge an inch.

We moved up the spot that I was fishing yesterday and we staked our claim. We were spaced out accordingly and made sure that nobody would be able to squeeze in. The water had cleared considerably from yesterday. The fishing was slower, but we all caught fish. The was hot and cold and I suggested that we head to the other spot. 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. There was a Prius, Subaru, and a Toyota Highlander. All of them were plastered with Patagonia and Trout Unlimited stickers. Foreign cars and high priced outfitters manufacturers logos are associated fly fishermen. Nearly every fly fishermen I know, drives a Sabaru Outback. Pinners on the other hand other usually drive a pick up or a beater Jeep like me. 

We hit some fish out of one hole and I could see two people fishing upstream. This was a spot I didn't fish the day before. The one angler greeted us and we started fishing, only hear the other angler way up start complaining about us fishing between them. We looked at each other puzzled. 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 the Vermilion as Micheal was heading back to Columbus later in the afternoon and flying back to Germany on Monday. The Vermilion is the westernmost river that gets stocked in Ohio. I was ok with it because I getting tired of making the long drive out east was putting a hurting on my sleep and wallet. The Vermilion was 20 miles from my home in Rocky River. The lower section of the river is a mess as there's plenty of pools and holes littered with lumber. But the river does have plenty of deep holes that steelhead love to hide. But it has one major problem, it runs dirty. Years ago it never had that problem and nobody knows why. Some point at the runoff from agriculture as there's plenty of farms farther south. The Vermilion can be a river that runs hot or cold. Today it was running frigid cold as we hooked into 3 fish. We bounced from hole to hole and there's no action. 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. I don't blame him and I told him we could fish the Rocky, but it was going to have to play nice with others. However it was already pass noon, so most of the morning crowds was gone. But I still had some cards in my hand and knew where to find fish. I took Mike to several spots and we caught some fish. The only excitement was when we watched 4 female deer 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.

Cattaraugus Creek

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 wife.

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.

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. 

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

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. 

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.

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.

Has The Internet Ruined Fishing?

Has the internet ruined the fishery? It's a subject that has riled up a lot of anglers here on the Alley. Personally, I think a lot of people are over reacting. Why? Any resourceful angler will find the necessary information, whether the internet existed or not. If it were to shut down tomorrow, I'll bet that most of the streams along the Alley would be full of anglers. If you asked them where they got their information from it would be from a bait shop, a buddy or they lived nearby a particular stream.

However, there's a small group of people that absolutely hate what the internet has done to the favorite fishery. Here is a sampling of what I generally see whenever a thread gets blown up

"I'm sick and tired of these losers asking to be spoon fed, get off your lazy asses and do your own leg work"

"I can't find solitude anymore"

"More and more property will get posted"

"I hate people that give out specific locations"

"Our fishery will be ruined by out of towners"

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.com and ohiogamefishing.com, 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. Both have declined in membership over the years because of the constant bickering and accusations. That biggest complaints are spoon feeding and naming locations on the rivers. The haters will attempt 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?"

If there's one thing the internet has created, it's the lazy inept steelheader. Instead of going out and learning from trail and error, they'll post question like "Are there any fish in the rivers?  or "Where are the best locations?" 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 heh heh

Bluebird Days

When rivers are low and clear, I often dread "bluebird days". Bluebird day is defined as clear blue skies, bright sun, and warm temperatures. For many, that's considered the ideal fishing weather. I, on the other hand, prefer dank grey skies, no sun and temperatures hovering just above freezing. Today, it was a bluebird day and I wasn't going to wish for awful weather. Weather on the Alley can be fickled at best and fishing time is precious. As I do most of the time, I'll 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 7:00 A.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.

Whenever 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. I know the river very well, but there are times that she doesn't want to reveal her secrets or her fish. The upper stretches are 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 the plan to fish the 2 miles downstream. Unfortunately, I looked across to see a large drift boat being loaded. As for their destination? Hopefully, a lot further where I was planning on fishing. Even though the Grand is one of the largest steelhead rivers in Ohio, it's very shallow. With three people in the boat, I'm expecting them to bottom out a lot and the boat to take a beating. I try not to worry, but I don't linger about as I immediately hit the trail.

I immediately walked down to one of my favorite pools. The river is moving at a lazy pace. The water is tea stained and I can make out some rocks at the bottom. Even though it's early  November there are plenty leaves on the trees. I stand on the bank, watching the water swirl and move. I scan the pool on where to cast out. I watch the bubbles race around some of the rocks. I start the process of working the pool. It doesn't take long to get into the first fish of the morning. The float chugs along and quickly goes under. I set the hook and feel the line surge upstream. The fish darts about the pool, but I'm in control as it's not a large fish. I swing the fish over in the slack water and it's a male, bright in his fall colors.

I pop the hook out and fish quickly takes off as I wash my hands in the cool water. Upstream, I hear the banging of the boat as it goes over the riffles. The banging hull echoes all the way downstream. I can see the guide whince whenever the boat grinds over a rock. They eventually drift by me and we exchange greetings. Not once did he ask how the fishing was. I noticed that they had fly fishing gear, so that meant they would most likely past up the water along the cliffs. I had an idea where they were going to fish. I continue to work the pool and there were no more fish to be had. By now the boat was long gone.

I make it down to the cliffs and the sun is beaming down the waters. It's so bright now that I can practically see every rock without the aid of polarized sunglasses. I can make out the shale ledges and cuts. Those shadows are where steelhead like to hide. The river here was deep enough that the passing boat wouldn't spook any of the fish. I methodically work the pools and for my hard work, I manage to catch another small male. It turns into a grind and I start to hear all of the excuses in head

Not a lot fish came in

It's too bright out

The bite is off today 

I could continue downstream, but who knows where that boat stopped. It wouldn't make sense to walk down and bang away in the same spots these guys were fishing. Due to the size of the boat, I knew they would haul out at Hidden Valley Metropark which was 8 miles from where I was at. They were fishing a full day and wouldn't be at that spot because it was so close that Metropark. So I made the decision to make a move further downstream where I k

It was very odd not seeing people fishing during the first week of November - the prime month of steelheading on the Alley. Perhaps it was the weekend to rake leaves or do other yard work. But it most likely the negative reports of poor fishing was the reason for the lack of people out. I start to feel hot as the sun feels stronger. My fleece jacket is becoming a burden and I'm relieved to take it off when I get to the Jeep. I get back on the road and make the quick drive to Hogsback Ridge Metropark. I pull into the lot and there's plenty of cars. But, I suspect most of them are people hiking down to Mill Creek to see the waterfalls. I don't blame them as it's a beautiful day to get out and enjoy one of the last few remaining warm days before winter. I head down the trail and I see a couple of anglers walking up. Both of them had that grim look on their faces. The look of defeat and frustration. One them asked if I fished upstream and said yes but it was slow. We talk as they were both were not from here. They were picking my brain to see what their best options were. and I was hard pressed to give them any info that would help them. They were thankful and wished me luck.

I walk down the trail and there I see the feeder creek, it's barely trickling. In the spring, some fish go up to spawn. In some spots you can pratically jump across it. The water is crystal clear and I don't see any steelhead hiding under the lumber. I get to the river and I see one angler downstream by the cliffs. I start fishing at the mouth of the creek. The clear water of the creek mixes with the main river and the water here is much cleaner. I work the run and there's no takers. I look down and the other angler that was fishing is gone. I head down the pool is moving at a nice leisurely pace. The pool is long and sweeping and the bottom is scattered with rocks. I look at the time and it's almost noon. I've decided that this will be the last spot to fish. I squint as I look at water. The sun's rays sparkle off the water as I try to figure out where if any fish are holding. I work the pool until I finally throw in the towel. I use hunger and thrist as an excuse to call it a day. The wind is getting stronger as leaves start falling into the river. I look high above and see several people hanging by the fence on the cliff taking pictures.

I make the long walk back, huffing and puffing up the hill. I'm dragging my feet by the time I get to the lot. I'm fortunate that I was able to catch a couple of fish. I know that better days will come and vacation week starts after Thanksgiving. I stop to get lunch and wolf down the burger and fries. I call a couple of friends and tell them that the day was slow and they were better off getting yard work done. Lucky for me, I live in an apartment so there's no yard work for me. I finally get home, plop myself on the couch and take a nap. I had my fill of this bluebird day.

Fishing Solo

When I moved here 12 years ago from Alberta, I didn't know a soul here. Since I was an introvert, that made it even harder to connect with other people. My first few years on the Alley was mostly spent fishing alone. I didn't mind, because I wanted spend as much time as possible on the water. It was a unique fishery as I never fished this type of water. My first impression of the rivers was how on earth does this support any life? Most of the rivers here flowed over shale bedrock and the water was clear. It looked so sterile and it would be the last place for a steelhead to be. But these rivers did support a large number of them and I was eager to start learning.  

I decided to venture far from home. The river I would be fishing today, would be the Ashtabula. The Ashtabula is a river that isn't stocked by the state of Ohio. But the river does get quite of fish. It's the smallest of the Ohio's rivers in length and size. After a rain event or snow melt, it's the first river to be fishable.

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 the only sounds were my boots rustling the leaves on the ground. 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 there's a smile on my face. Because that meant, I had a good chance of getting fish. 

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.