I got the phone call....

I got the phone call the other night.  Y'know, the one that starts off something like, "You got any plans tomorrow morning?"  And then before you know it, you've made plans to leave before daylight to head to some hot fishing location.  I'm usually real quick to say yes to those invites, which can sometimes get me into trouble...or like this one, lead to an amazing day on the water.





I rolled out of bed at around 4am the following morning, asking myself what I was thinking.  I'm not usually a morning person, except when i've got a date with some fish...but 4am was a bit much, even for going fishing.  I met up with Chuck Laughridge in Newbern and we made our way North to the Roanoke River.  We put the boat in at a little hot spot downstream a ways from the world famous Weldon, NC.  Before long, we were were dropping anchor, and both doubled up with Rockfish on our first casts. 

Andrew's first fish on fly.

Within 2 hours we had hit somewhere near seventy stripers, and an hour later I stopped counting at a hundred.  No monsters were landed but we had quite a few fish between 3 and 5lbs...which is a lot of fun on little 5 and 6wt fly rods.  The highlight of the morning wasn't the fish, but an 8 year old named Andrew, that we met on the river. His brother and father accompanied him, and they were being introduced
to the stripers by a mutual friend of ours. 

Number three on the fly.

His little brother was in desperate need of a potty break, so their crew decided to make a run back to the ramp.  We asked if Andrew could jump onboard with us while they were gone so he could continue fishing.  We only had to ask once and Andrew was climbing aboard our boat.  In less than 20 minutes time we gave him a crash coarse on basics of casting a fly rod, stripping the line, setting the hook and fighting a fish.  We did the casting for him, but let him handle the catching...and by the time his ride showed back up, he was in the process of landing his fourth 
striped bass on fly. 

Andrew continued to cheer us on from across the river through the rest of the morning.  We returned the favor and cheered for him everytime he hooked up on his spinning rod.  Although he held his own on the spinning rod, I've got to imagine he asked his dad for a flyrod before the day was over.  Chuck took a few of the photos on this report, so a big thanks to him for that and for the invite to go fishing.

This little guy was gutsy, the fly was as big as him.

The death of a fly line.

Couldn't stand it.

I woke up this morning with all intentions of hitting the water.  Unfortunately the wind was blowing pretty steady, the sky was gray, and the air was cold and rainy.  Around noon, the rain and wind died off and I hooked the trailer up to the truck and made a run for the ramp.  In the five minute drive from my house to the ramp the rain started again.  I sat parked at the ramp hoping it would clear so I could go chase some fish.  Apparently I nodded off at some point and woke up 45 minutes later and it was still sprinkling.  At this point I figured "why not", and put the boat in the water. 

I ran through the cold drizzle and ducked into a creek to find some fish.  I found several drum working through the bays and around the oyster bars.  I came up on a few redfish with their fins out of the water and was able to sneak up and hook one.  He came unbuttoned, and I moved on looking for another one.  I ended up fishing a deep hole in the creek and finding several flounder, with two being big enough to ride home with me in the cooler.  At this point, I had dealt with enough rain and cold, and made the run back home.

Gator, Flounder and Reds...oh my

I had the pleasure of having Rick Grither aboard my boat today.  Rick is an accomplished fly fisherman and photographer.  He fishes as much as any person I've ever met, and most of the time he can be found walking the surf line chasing blues, spanish and the like.  I was looking forward to seeing if I could put him on some reds in the marsh today. 

We met at the ramp this morning, and Rick presented me with a bag from Dunkin Donuts...so I knew we were already off to a good start.  The sky was mostly full of gray clouds with just a bit of blue sky peeking through, but the wind was dead calm.  We launched the skiff and made a long run down to a little creek that I hadn't fished in months.  The last time I was there it was full of fish, but they had moved on, and the water level was dropping quick so we split.

The next creek we stopped at is one of my favorite creeks...mostly because I've never been there without seeing fish.  I started poling and Rick snapped a few pics as we went along.  We started seeing wakes in the creek, so Rick picked up his 8wt and started making casts.  I couldn't tell if the wakes were from reds or big mullet at first, but then I started seeing reds cruising the bank heading out with the tide.  Rick made some well presented casts but the reds were in a rush and weren't interested in stopping for a bite to eat.

I poled up the creek and we continued to see reds moving ahead of us.  As we got farther up the creek, we saw several pushes in an area where I always see fish.  We saw a few tails pop up, but the fish were super nervous and were bolting out of the shallow water.  You could track the fish by the sprays of tiny grass shrimp as the reds shot out of the bay they were in.  Rick and I were focusing hard on the fish as he took shots at them and I quietly moved the boat forward.  As we moved along, I picked up my push pole and placed the foot of it in the water beside the motor.  But when I did this, something unusual happened...the water under the poling platform exploded.  I immediately did a 180 and saw a 6ft plus angry alligator right below me.  Apparently we poled right over him in the muddy water and woke him up when I touched him with the pole.  At this point the gator swam down stream, and stopped between us and our exit to the little creek, and came up to the surface hissing and showing off his pearly whites.  Rick snapped some great shots as I tried to pole the boat around the alligator in the middle of the narrow creek.  We made a decision to let Mr. Cranky Pants have those reds and we moved back to the mouth of the creek to find the first fish we saw. 

We got a hundred yards down the creek and found several fish working.  I staked the boat out and we both started making casts.  We had several fish follow the flies and turn off after a few feet.  We switched flies and had the same issue.  Although the reds weren't happy with our offerings, the flounder were, and we caught several.  I decided to continue poling down the creek and Rick tied on an old standby fly.  He made a cast to a fish working ahead of us and connected.  A few minutes later, Rick brought a really nice red to the boat for a few pics and a quick release.  On his next cast he hooked another big fish, but the leader broke before we could land it.  I poled us out of the creek and saw several more flounder zip out of our way, including one over 5lbs in 8" of water!






Storm clouds were starting to build, so I made a run to my current favorite spot.  I knew if we could get to the back of this creek before it rained, he'd have a shot at crawling reds in clear water.  As we entered the creek I ran past some reds so I killed the engine and started poling.  After a few minutes, we heard a whistling sound in the grass and looked over and saw a whirlwind moving across the spartina grass.  The grass was twisting and blowing in one spot, while everything else was calm.  We watched the whirlwind come across the grass and cross the creek a fly cast away from us.  As if the day hadn't been enough of an adventure already, the skies opened up into a downpour immediately afterwards.  We made the run back to the ramp in a torrential down pour.

Once we got back to the ramp and changed into some dry clothes, Rick treated me to a BBQ plate and some sweet tea at the local restaurant.  Some of the photos in this post were taken by Rick, so many thanks to him for the pics and the great day on the water.  We'll do it again soon.

Roanoke Rockfish

My buddy, Traner Knott, is getting married this month.  A few weeks back, we made plans to do a guys weekend on the Roanoke River chasing rockfish.  We decided to go for a few days during the first week of May, so that we could avoid the keeper season crowd.  Traner invited his brother George, and friend Ernie to come along with us. 

I love striper season on the Roanoke...but the stretch of river near Weldon can be like a Walmart Parking lot during the April keeper season.  The first few weeks of May see just as many stripers, but with a lot less people on the river.  The spawn is also in full swing in May, and it's an awesome sight to see hundreds of stripers fighting at the surface for a chance to spawn with a big female. 

Traner and I arrived in Weldon and met up with Ernie at the local campground.  There was a storm on the radar, so the three of us went to lunch, where we waited for the storm to arrive.  It never came so we hit the river and started fishing.  It was hot on the river, and felt more like a July day than early May.  We picked up a few stripers here and there as the afternoon passed.  With the sun still high in the sky, most of the fish were caught deep, either on jigged grubs or clouser flies on sinking lines. 

As the sun set, the fish started coming to the surface to spawn.  When a big female striper is ready to spawn, she comes to the surface to release her eggs.  Dozens of smaller males follow her up and literally fight for the chance to be the closest to her, so they can fertilize her eggs when she releases them.  These "striper fights" can be seen and heard from a hundred yards away, and there will sometimes be several of these happening all at once.  At this point we switched to top water and started picking up fish from the surface.  Right before dark, the air temp dropped and the wind picked up as a storm chased us off the river.

The next morning we met up with Traner's brother George, at the ramp before day break.  The top water bite was excellent for the first hour of the day.  A couple times, I could count as many as 5 or 6 stripers darting under my fly before one would inhale it.  Once the sun got higher in the sky, the bite slowed and we went back to dredging the bottom of the river for fish.  We called it a day around noon, and headed over to Ralph's BBQ,  where we ate until we went into a partial coma.  I had a great weekend on the river with these guys and look forward to doing it again sometime soon.

Things are looking up...

The last few trips to the marsh have been showing a lot of promise for the upcoming season.  A week ago, I hit the waterway and ran back behind the barrier islands to see if anyone was home.  I came up on some small winding creeks and jumped up on the platform and started poling. 

It didn't take long to start spotting the pushes of several fish in front of me.  I watched reds swim around the skiff at each turn in the creek.  At a split in the creek, I staked out and saw numerous fish work around the skiff.  You could look up the creek and watch the wakes as schools of a half dozen or so fish would come down the shallow creek and come right to the boat. 

I had a short amount of time to hit the water this evening, so I stayed in the vicinity of the ramp.  I worked across a bay, into a winding creek that I hadn't been to in a few months.  There were several fish working the bends of the creek and the water was skinny enough to see their wakes as they moved around. 

A few years back, it seemed like you could find fish anywhere you stopped your boat.  The past two years were really tough, as the fish just didn't seem to be around in good numbers.  The large amount of redfish I've seen this winter and so far this spring is a great sign.  Things are looking up, and this year looks like it's gonna be a good one.

Rolling on the River

March is always a welcome time of year for me.  As the cold of January and February gives way, and the trees begin to bloom, the urge to spend more time outdoors takes over.  Along with warmer weather and daylight savings time, one of my favorite parts of early spring is the shad run in the local rivers.  I've fished several coastal rivers for shad over the last few years, but the Roanoke is always my favorite.  The Roanoke is beautiful during the spring, and the quality of fishing is hard to beat.

A few weeks back I made plans to hit the river with Kristen Cook and Suzanne Craig as soon as the fish arrived in decent numbers.  The weather and the fish came together for us, so I hooked up my skiff, picked up my guests and we made our way to the town of Weldon.  With a lack of rain, the river was lower than normal, and there were a lot of rocks exposed or just below the surface.  I launched the skiff and we carefully made our way around the rocks and started our drift down the river.

A few hundred yards down the river we ran into a few friends anchored up on a school of shad.  We anchored just upstream of them and caught a few fish before moving down river to find another school.  We continued with the standard procedure of drifting down river and anchoring after we hooked into a fish.  The shad travel in groups, so if you hook one you can usually catch many more in the same area.  If a school moves on, then you just drift again until you find more fish.  There are also several spots on the river where fish like to hang out.  Changes in the shoreline or areas around rocks will usually break up the flow of the river and give the fish somewhere to hang. 

For the most part, I threw flashy marabou and estaz flies with a 5wt rod and a sinking line.  Suzanne and Kristen mixed it up between curly tail grubs and spoons, both of which produced.  Towards the end of the day, Suzanne picked up a fly rod for the second time ever.  I talked her through casting a sinking line, and her determination to stick with it paid off in the end. 

We didn't have a triple digit day on fish but we did pretty well.  Kristen and Suzanne are always a blast to have on the boat, and there's no better place to be in March than floating down the Roanoke.

Shrimp Dust and Cosmic Rubble

A few months back, I was talking to a buddy of mine on the phone about how tough the albacore season had been this year.  I must have remarked something like "the heck with the albies, lets go catch some reds in New Orleans this winter".  I was half way joking when he replied, "it wouldn't take much to talk me into going".  That's where he messed up.....I knew the seed had been planted, and with a little fertilizer, we'd soon be on our way to The Big Easy.



Fast forward a couple months, and I was picking up Jason from his house at 5am with boat in tow.  We were taking a roll of the dice, as the weather men had been throwing out conflicting reports.  A few hours into the drive we stopped at a fast food restaurant in Lumberton NC.  We ran in, to grab a quick bite to eat.  As we walked out I saw a car parked inches away from the back of my boat and ran out in a panic.  The driver had driven right into my push pole and snapped it where it extended from the back of the boat.  One of the most important pieces of equipment for the trip was gone, and we weren't even out of the state.  After a few phone calls, a police report, and over an hour of wasted time, we were back on the road.  I made a few phone calls and tracked down a buddy in Mississippi who graciously offered to lend me his push pole for the weekend.  Around 10pm we rolled in to New Orleans, and made our way to my friends house.  Dee Murphy greeted us as we pulled up.  We unloaded the truck and crashed for the night.

                                                                                                                             Oh Snap

Early the next morning, the three of us jumped in my truck, and made our way south towards Hopedale.  The fog was thick, and we kept our fingers crossed that we would see blue skies when it lifted.  I backed the boat into the ramp at Breton Sound Marina, and from there we raced about twenty miles through a series of bayous until we popped out on the gulf side of the Biloxi Marsh.  At this point, the fog was still really thick, so I poled up along the shoreline and Jason started blind casting.  Not long into the first shoreline, Jason hooked up with his first redfish of the day.

We took turns poling and casting, while waiting for the fog to lift and give us a little sunshine.  When the fog finally lifted, the winds began to pick up, but nothing to be too concerned with.  The biggest problem was the water was pretty muddy, which made it hard for to spot any fish unless they were pushing water.  Our plan was to locate some of the big drum that inhabit the outer marsh during the winter, but we never saw one.  Maybe it was the wind, maybe the dirty water, maybe just bad luck...so we stuck with the smaller fish that were working along the shoreline.  We finished the day up with a few reds, and the determination to change things up  the next day.  Later that night, we poured over google earth and chose a few new spots to try.

On day two, we dropped in at Hopedale and noticed the wind was already blowing 20+, so we made the call to fish the inside bayous for slot fish.  We had high hopes of fishing the outer edges of the marsh for bull drum, but the wind would have made it miserable.  We ran about ten miles through a series of canals, and started fishing a few ponds in the middle of the marsh.  We fought to stay close to any edge where we could get out of the wind and make a cast.  The water was muddy, but we started seeing fish right away.  We took turns switching off casting to fish that were pushing, crawling and tailing.  Along with the slot size reds, we picked up a few flounder.

We pulled out of Hopedale at dark, grabbed a couple crawfish po'boys and made our way to Mobile Alabama for the night.  The following morning was spent crawling down the interstate in a downpour that left us unable to see past the hood of my truck.  Fifteen hours later, we made it home for some much needed rest.

We started off with big fish in mind...but the trip proved to be a lot more than just chasing reds.  We got plenty of Louisiana culture...from the fishing village of Hopedale, to a stroll down Bourbon Street, to a local restaurant with menu items like shrimp dust and cosmic rubble.  All in all, an awesome trip.  Many thanks to our host Dee for going above and beyond, to Dan for trusting me with his push pole, to Barret for the fishing locations, and to Bess and Michael for letting us crash in Mobile. 

           ......I still need to go back for another stab at the big reds, anybody interested in a road trip???



                                                                              Hopedale

The Infamous King Cake Baby Fly

 



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