Same guy, different ditch– Steve and I decided to ply the small waters this Sunday afternoon. 

I think the two may be related.

The blue on the eyelid.

The purple reflection under the fly.

The red orange stroke on the lower tail fin, or even the more yellow orange highlight in the fork of the tail.  The dorsal line is deep black especially just before the tail.  The eye that isn’t visible is ringed with a sage green.  The dorsal fin is green, purple, and blue.  Yeah, the sun is glistening and part of the mid section that should be yellowish-bronze is blown out, over exposed and lifeless, but surrounded by so much color.  Take a look at the tail again… notice the net showing through?  Notice how yellow olive the top of the fin is in contrast with the yellow orange bottom fork?  See the one hundred shades of green on the forehead?

This carp probably only went 2.5 pounds.  I don’t remember.  I don’t remember when it was caught or where or under what circumstances, but I still marvel at the wide variety of colors on the fish.  There is a time to write your name in the snow, and there is a time to shut up, take a deep breath, blink, and see what’s all around you.

At one point, I cast to a tail and got stuck on a snag.  On my way over to the snag to free my fly, another fish started tailing right over my snag.  I was yanking the rod and whipping the water trying to get the fly unglued but the fish wouldn’t stop tailing on it. 

The water was just that muddy: the fish didn’t know I was there, and really couldn’t see my fly either.  I snagged a couple in the face just for good measure– I mean, I kept running the fly closer and closer to them hoping they’d see it until one cast would get too close. 

Carp and buffalo weren’t the only thing tailing: this channel cat went about 3 pounds and would have been a good keeper size catfish– if you like catfish which I don’t, so I let it go.

Despite the “ugly water,” the fish kept things interesting, and if you looked hard enough, there was plenty of beauty on the mud flat, too.

You know where they don’t have Whataburger?

Russia.

Freakin’ Russians, that’s what they got there.

Vodka.

That’s what I say.

Texas Fly Report was shut down this week.  The proprietor, Alex, (see: Redemption) created the site in 2002 as a programming hobby, and most of the initial members came to the site from a now defunct Yahoo Group called Texas Warm Water Fly Fishers.

I knew Lane from the Yahoo Group and some of the outings we had, so he was a familiar name at TFR along with about 20-30 others.  I believe that Lane and I met around April of 2000 at an outing on the Brazos river near Glen Rose, TX.

This picture of Lane hooked up with his first carp is in direct result of those online communities and their friendships:

If you’d ever been to trashonthefly before I turned it into a blog, it’s a familiar picture.  Just looking at it makes me smile.  Lane was my test client– my first attempt to show someone else how to stalk and catch a carp.  It was May 24, 2004, and a lot has changed since then, but the memories remain the same.

When I got home from that trip, and while Lane was back on the road towards home, I posted the following message on Texas Fly Report–

Went fishing today with Lane (No-Tye-Much) and I don’t know if he’ll say anything so I’m spilling the beans, today he caught his first fly rod carp while targeting carp specifically. No bait, chum, or scent, just good old-fashioned sight fishing for spooky critters.

He said he hardly remembers the first few seconds but let me tell you the man can put some heat on a fish. When it ate the fly and promptly bolted for the log 4 feet away he whisked it– no I should say pounded it– out of danger immediately to where he had some fighting room.

The fish went 3 pounds which in a lot of ways is the perfect sized carp, the smaller ones fight fast and dirty. (Not to be misunderstood, a 6 pound carp fights like a train and bigger carp are real bulldogs– they do not “slow down” with old age)

We got a couple of beautiful pics which I’m sure Lane will be sharing with us later. Lane also took a rare pic of me with a carp as well, usually I’m solo because most people think I’m crazy for beating my head over the fish and walking banks for hours, straining my eyes and drinking hot water, walking through fire ant mounds and thistles:

What’d I forget, Lane? I won’t mention that one embarrassing moment involving you, the snake, the girl on the jetski and cowpoop.

I still distinctly remember Lane casting to that fish.  He was absolutely predatory with that fly rod, something I often wish other anglers could get a whiff of.  There was no hesitation after I pointed the carp– the fly was in front of that fish and now.

Big-Ass might have been a little tongue in cheek, but the fish gave him a great fight and it was mission accomplished.  Thanks for the memory, Lane.

Zach is a fashion beast.  Oh, the fitover-style sunglasses are mine, to be sure– in case of polarization emergencies.  The baseball hat as well.  But only Zach can turn a borrowed hat and a spare t-shirt into serious flats stalking gear.

His fish was also sporting something from the Fall 2008 line:  the Carp Gagger fly.  It’s nothing much, really, and it did the trick.

After about an hour of trying to cut off trickles of menacing shad death with the boat I realized that my count was going to have to be verified.  I had 20 fish in the cooler.  Now things were starting to get interesting.  I was five fish from a sandbass limit.

I sometimes get goal oriented while fishing, and I started to wonder if I would jinx my luck by wishing for a limit.  25 fish would make us roughly 4-6 meals of assorted fish tacos or curry.  Meanwhile, the pods were building speed and the groups were getting larger, so it was harder to keep up with them and I was running into factions of 10-15 fish less frequently.

The wind suddenly blew out of the north and the water went to a ripple and the fish stopped blitzing all together.  During that time I was able to put three more fish in the cooler and release a couple of “unders.”  Putting around, I could see the fish on the graph but they’d moved down to the 10-15 foot range and most of them had started suspending.  If I really wanted to finish a limit, and if I hurried before they completely turned off until the evening, I’d have to break out the lead core and fish deep.  I considered it for a minute.  I’ve never kept a limit of sandbass, and it would be interesting to complete the deal on flies.  After about 3 tenths of a second, though, I realized I didn’t have lead core in the boat and I didn’t want to turn what had been a lucky diversion into work.

It was time to hunt carp, and I had one quick stop to make before the main destination.  Within minutes of dropping the trolling motor and cruising the edge, I was seeing tons of fish.  Here’s a picture of the first.

After landing 10 fish I considered putting on wading boots and making it a long day for numbers.  I had plenty of food and water to hit the 20 or 30 fish mark, but my lust for variety made me push on.  I finally made it to the intended destination around 4:30 and poled myself through about 1/3 of the flat to verify the presence of fish.  There were plenty of carp and a couple of buffalo as well.  I didn’t really intend to juggle a pole and a rod but one spotted gar was swimming slowly towards me and I was forced to tuck the pole under my arm and grab my rod.  I came close to landing the gar but it came off right at the boat.

23 sandbass and 10 carp.  Not a bad day sight fishin.  Hey, you ever seen those shows where the guys will turn their back to the camera to hide their “secret bait” or secret rig or fly?  This fish was playing cool with his mistake:

Anyway, we got kind of intense about the whole sight fishing thing and I think he was too busy down the bank to come and take a snapshot so I had to do the familiar “grass portrait” of the fish. 

Nothing like friends, nothing like bamboo.

Alex and Mark came to Big D to film a carp episode for Laughing Bass in late July 2005, which spawned the following two pictures that have been on various versions of this site since.

“Butterhands” Mark dropped his first carp before we could get a snapshot.  The whole thing was on video, of course, but we failed to get what could have been his proud portrait to hang over his bed… or something.

Now Alex’s fish, on the other hand, was very easy going when it came to the photoshoot.  In fact, his fish was the first carp I’d ever seen that didn’t fight.  It was actually quite pathetic.  On the video you could hear me say something along the lines of “any minute now…”  In fact, I was sure that when I took a swipe at it with the net that the fish would explode.  Maybe even break the tippet.  But it was not to be.  Alex’s first carp would not fight.  Not one bit.

So when Alex told me he’d be back in Big D in late June 2008 and needed a fishing fix, I thought I’d try to fix him up with a real carp- a normal carp.  I don’t remember what this fish weighed, but, the rod was bent double for quite a while and I distinctly remember the surprised look on his face.

 Sorry your first carp was such a wet rag, Alex.