So as the cold rolls in, the local fishing season has all but shut down for me.
That being said, I spent some time chatting with my brother about a possible winter trip to the Big Horn out in Montana. There is a great place there, the Cottonwood Camp. They have some excellent guide services and with it being winter, there shouldn’t be too much of a crowd at all.
It would be either sow bugs or midges. I think it would be an amazing experience. That being said, it is a 14hour drive from here. If I don’t go in the next few weeks, the next opportunity would be in April. It would be an awesome experience either way.
Besides that, I have been tying to build up my fly box. I have been tying scuds lately and then I think I will go with midges or something else basic. I will try to post some pictures to show you the scuds. They are pretty cool because I’m using cat hair dubbing from our cat’s brush and a mini snicker’s wrapper for the iridescent top of the scud.
Anyway, hopefully there will be more posts to come 🙂
So last weekend I made it out to Little Papillion Creek (I think that is what it is called) by 132nd-ish and Fort-ish. It was another stunningSunday. (The weather really has been beautiful in Omaha lately.)My plan was to walk the creek upstream in search of rises and possibly catching some fish. I new it would might be a mirky creek, but I read a Papillion Creek Water resources management page that mentioned the potential for fish. I figured it was worth a shot since I haven’t been catching anything at Standing Bear.
I walked east along the north shore of the reservoir. It got really muddy. No wind or current so wasn’t sending clouds of silt all over the place.
On my way out there last time, I noticed a creek (that I have since learned is Papillion Creek) a mile away that looked big enough to fish. My hunch is there isn’t much in there, but who knows? I figure, either tomorrow or Sunday I will go walk it north of the city to see if I can spot some fish and throw them something they like. Worth a shot, right?
This is the worst fly fishing blog out there. Ha. My waders leak and I can’t catch anything.
At least it is supposed to be another beautiful day out there.
Last Sunday the wife and went back to Standing Bear Rec Area. Sara did some reading at a picnic spot and I waded a 100 meter stretch of the north shore. It was about thigh high and not too windy. The clarity was poor, and with the little chop, I couldn’t see any fish action on the water. I was casting a wet fly I tied last week using a size 6 hook, Zeeba Dubbing (hair from our cat’s brush), olive maribou, and some red and yellow neck hackle.
This was also my first attemp wading after sealing up the entire front seams of my waders. ankles to crotch. Result? The sealing cement is great and easy to work with. My waders may be beyond repair. I will try to reinforce the crotch and butt a bit more, but I may just have to settle with leaky waders until I have the means to replace them.
Anyway, with an hour and a half to fish, I worked the shallows and practiced my casting. It was very slow. In the picture below, on the left hand side, you can just see the edge of a downed tree. I worked this area pretty hard and just as my attention was waning, I had a huge swirl at my fly. I was pulling it only a few inches below the water and the fish, not sure if it was a bass or carp, missed showing me a decent 13-15 inch dark colored back. I couldn’t get a profile view or see the tail, so I can’t say for sure what it was. But it had some decent size and surprised the crap out of me.
Another reminder to try and be focused when fishing. Regardless, it was a beautiful Sunday in Nebraska and I learned a lot about that part of the lake. I will be able to walk that pretty easily in the spring and think I should eventually find some luck at Standing Bear.
my waders have been worn well.
not always consistently.
a season skipped.
but worn well.
they are paper thin
with neoprene booties.
i tie on my felt bottom boots.
they say we should move away from those.
we run the risk of transferring aquatic hitchikers.
stepping into the water a trickle of cold begins.
down the back of my calf. each leg.
kissing my kneecaps.
rising slowly to body temperature.
catch my breath when crotch hits waves.
give me a minute.
ready to fish.
later I slosh, slosh, slosh up to my car.
out comes the flood.
music and the road.
that’s a good day.