Vote! Fish of the Year.

Updated: 2009 Fish of the Year: BVI Tarpon

Help us settle a year end holiday dispute at This River is Wild. Which fish over the past year was the greatest? We each put in two entries for fish of the year and hopefully our small readership will help end the bickering between us (there really is none). So what makes the fish of the year? Is it the size of the fish, story and experience, or beauty? Here are the entries with an accompanying link to the post. Vote on the top right of the blog. Happy holidays!

Option 1: Adam's First Canal Carp

Weeks of toiling in the mosquito infested canal of Walnutport culminated in this massive golden bone. Story & more images here: Flawless Victory

Monster Golden Ghost of the Walnutport Canal.

Option 2: Savage River Brown Trout

A successful first trip to the Savage River in Western Maryland produced some gorgeous wild brown trout in a scenic setting. This was the prettiest. Story and images here: Savage

Beautiful Savage River Brown.

Option 3: Anegada Bonefish

As a birthday present for my brother, Stacy took Matt out to Anegada where wading the flats, he landed his first ever bonefish. Story and pictures here: Chasing Tail in Anegada.

Bro's First Bonefish.

Option 4: British Virgin Islands Tarpon.

Out with a friend, Matt tied into a 80 pound tarpon that schooled him in the surf while evading a curious shark. Story and images here: Megalops Atlanticus

The first Tarpon: Deliverance

Epic Tarpon Battle From the Rocks.

Option 5: Salmon River Brown

As the rain began to fall, Adam tested out a tri-cluster egg sucking leech. The brown exploded off the bottom as the fly hit the water. Story and images here: Salmon River Revenge

More epic brown trout: Shooting Stars

Salmon River Brown on the Tri-Cluster Leech.

Option 6: Lago X Carp

My best day ever Carp fishing culminated in this brute that was slowly stalked and picked off some weed beds. A blistering run and my fly line disappeared into the middle of the lake. Story and images here: CARP!

Goliath Lago-X Carp.

Although these fish may not be the largest fish we caught all year, they certainly were some of the more memorable. As the new year approaches, new water and challenges await us that are sure to produce more memories and even more epic moments.

Under The Willow Tree.

The Willow Tree

The holidays are more than just a chance to catch up with family and friends, down a lot of food, and open lots of presents. They present the angler with a chance to rediscover the home water they frequented during their days as a young angler. During my holiday I took a short walk to the local "creek" to hopefully catch some wild browns. The thermometer didn't reach the 30s and snow littered the landscape. My first stop was under a willow tree. During my young days my brother and I would swing across the creek using its long slim limbs as ropes. Little did I know at the time but the tree created the perfect home for some eager wild browns.

A Look Down At the Hole.

Indian Trail Park.

Ice Droplets.

Icicles.

Holdover Brookie.

First Wild Brown.

Soft Hackle Hares Ear.

One Big Blue Dot.

Pushed the 4wt to the Max.

Joking.

Stuck.

Wild or Stocked? I Say Stocked.

Small Parr Marks.

Wild or Stocked. I Say Wild.

Caddis.

Small Mayfly.

Cressbugs Were Everywhere.

Indian Stonefly.

One Last Wild Brown Completes The Experience.

Washboard Willy's.

The climb out of Oak Orchard and back to the truck was strenuous. Two long days on the water with little more than a few granola bars and some cans of Red Bull left my body weak and parched. Despite having two very successful days of fishing on the Salmon and Oak, my mind began to wonder. It was Thanksgiving and all I could think about was turkey and pumpkin cake roll. At the truck, I downed a blue Powerade, which is probably my favorite drink after a day of fishing. We unpacked our stuff, took off our soaking wet clothes from the days rain, and decided to spend the night at Walmart once again.

The Subway at Walmart was looking like our best bet for food, a seat, and a chance to tie some flies. Arriving, our worst fears came true. The Subway was closed. We were out of luck. Despite the lack of the aforementioned, we also would not be able to check the stream conditions for Erie. I decided to check if Subway's wireless could be reached outside from the truck. It could not. I headed into a small room where people recycle all manner of things at Walmart. The place reeked of garbage juice, there were stains, and trash littered the floor. I promptly took a seat amidst the flotsam and discovered a source of Internet. The conditions at Erie were at an all time low. No flows and super spooky fish. The outlook for our father's chances at catching their first steelhead looked dim. 

We left Walmart, looking for a place to tie some flies. The McDonalds down the road had to be open. But it was not. No place was open. We drove around the small town aimlessly for quite awhile before the red neon glow of a small building caught our attention. Looming in the distance, tucked between shopping centers was a laundromat. We pulled up and had a nice laugh. Washboard Willy's was the place to be on this Thanksgiving. It was not only a place to tie our flies, but we could also dry our only set of clothes that were soaked from two days fishing in the rain. Making it even better was a small TV playing Family Guy. The colors were all messed up but it didn't matter. We found a home for the next several hours. 

Willy Takes A Bite Outa' Grime!

After drying our clothes, Adam and I decided to tie a set of streamers for Erie. Apparently, a Rainbow Smolt pattern was pretty hot and so we busted out the necessary material and got to work. Tungsten head, holographic eyes, polar fibre, peacock, and some flashabou and mine was complete in about fifteen minutes. I then spent some time watching Adam's meticulous motions at the vice for about an hour. Adam is a perfectionist at the vice while I employ more of a blitzkrieg strategy. Adam is also extremely innovative because of his early days as a bass fisherman. He attached some weird concoction from some old bass rig onto his fly adding enough weight to the midsection to make it sink like a rock. He also used an entire strip of polar fibre to make one fly. I just bought it before the trip too, was able to tie one fly with it, before on loan to Adam it systematically disappeared before my very eyes. Both flies ended up producing at Erie.

Family Guy & Magic Tricks Entertained Our Tying Session.

Rainbow Smolt.

The Elusive Clump of White Polar Fibre Vanished.

Towards the end of Adam's tie an old van pulled up outside Willy's. We waited with baited breath for the owner to question what the hell we were doing inside his laundromat with all manner of feathers strewn across his floor. To our relief, a family came strolling it at 10:30 to do some laundry. It was a young couple with two kids who preceded to make the place a playground. They were running around pushing laundry carts into everything they were too weak to steer away from. The highlight came when the young lad who looked like he might be a future star on Maury Povich's fat baby show came and and starred at our flies in amazement for a minute straight. He then preceded to the candy machine behind us. He pounded on the glass, screamed, yelled, and then cried for a Mountain Dew. Thankfully the father didn't cave in. 

High School Adam.

Long Black Locks, Gulligan Hat, & Proud Member of Team Daiwa.

We left Washboard Willy's and headed back to the Walmart where we slept amongst an eager crowd of Black Friday shoppers. The place was packed from when we went to bed until we awoke at 3 a.m. The long drive to Erie beckoned and we hit the road. 

Ain't No Rest For The Wicked.

Day Two.

The Salmon River parking lot was desolated. We were the last people present and the sun had already gone down. The air temperature was steadily dropping and the rain had not stopped. Adam and I were in no rush. We had no family to get home to, no long drive to some distant relative's house, and zero anticipation for Thanksgiving Day and the delicious turkeys everyone else would be feasting on. We slowly unrigged our rods, took off our waders, and changed out of our underarmour. Just when we finished the clouds let loose a terrential downpour. Perfect timing. We hopped in the truck and plugged in the next destination in the GPS. To our dismay, Oak Orchard was almost three hours away. We were on two and zero hours sleep respectively, just fished from dawn to dusk, and were about to embark on a long car ride at night and in the rain. Adam promptly fell asleep in the passenger seat while I was left with the suicide run to Oak Orchard.

Thanksgiving Day Meal.

All The Fuel I Need.

How Do You Like Your Eggs?

Getting Ready For The Scoop.

Chrome Hen.

Not So Chrome Hen.

The Albion Walmart parking lot loomed in the distance. Whoever built a Walmart Supercenter out there near Oak in the middle of nowwhere is a genius. If you know us, you would know that Walmart is our 5-star hotel. However, this Walmart is something special. It has free Wi-Fi in the Subway inside. The perfect place for dinner, internet, and tying flies while the resident townies give you wierd looks. The big screen tv and movies playing are just an added bonus. The Sandlot, one of my all time favorites, was playing as I pounded out some fresh sucker spawns for the following day. Around midnight, it was finally time for some shut eye. I tucked myself in the bed of the truck anticipating the 5 a.m. wakeup call and the browns and steelies that awaited.

"Small" Male Brown.

 Looks Less Than Pleased With His Steel.

More Than Pleased.

I Love Catching Fish From Spots,

 People Were Standing In Moments Before.

Rolling into the parking lot, we were not alone in our judgement to fish on Thanksgiving Day. We were not even the first people there over an hour before sunrise. Welcome to Oak Orchard. We rigged up and decided to fish the side with the cliff. It has a more difficult access point, is less pressured, and on this particular day we had it all to ourselves for the first hour of light. After that, the crowds emerged and did not thin out until the rain came around 3 p.m.

The fishing was sporadic. We hooked up and landed fish on eggs, nymphs, and streamers. The two largest fish were steelhead and they were accompianed by several smaller browns. It was a good day on the Oak punctuated by the usual amusement that accompanies you on this particular stream. You have your talkers, who never shut up, no matter how few people talk to them. You have your serious fisherman who block out the world and are only thinking about their swift or drift. Then you have the fisherman that are acutely aware of all their surroundings and particularly enjoy eavesdropping on the shit coming out of peoples mouths. They double task in between laughs and smirks while concentrating on the task at hand. They get the best of both worlds. Sometimes I try to block out the background noise at Oak, while other times it is almost impossible. Whenever, I fish at Oak I think about the lyrics to this one particular country song. It goes something like, "God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy". That about sums up Oak Orchard. 

That's What I'm Looking For.

Upon Closer Inspection.

I Love Soft Shell Jackets.

Steel Are Nice Too.

Fumblerooskie.

Browns in the Rain.

Posing For Her Portrait.

The best fish of the day was undoubtedly Adam's double digit steelhead. He hooked into it in the tight chutes directly below the dam and had quite the task landing him there amongst the higher flows. The water is roaring in this section and the walls of the banks are steep. There is no chance of really beaching a fish here and it is quite difficult to even net one. Adam skillfully kept the fish at bay, refusing to let him run downstream, all the while not breaking his 4x. We moved both upstream and down, tip toeing around the submerged bushes, the water almost cresting over my waders. My netting skills were about to be put to the test. After awhile, I chanced it, lunging out into the current, going for the scoop. The force of the water denied my futile attempt. Finally, after a few tense moments, the scoop was pure and the buck came to hand. He tipped the scales at 10.7 pounds. He was one thickly wound piece of muscle. 

Amped.

One Thick Fish.

He's Got Shoulders.

Last Cast of the Day.

Egg Sucking Leech, One Last Swing, One Last Oak Orchard Brown.

There on the banks of the Oak Orchard River, celebrating the largest steelhead of the trip, Thanksgiving was celebrated not with turkey, but with a trout that captivated our minds and satiated our appetites. I wouldn't have it any other way.