Connected.

In memory of my brother's futile attempts to catch a monster Tortola permit the other day, I suggest watching another great short.  This one by Will Benson and World Angling. Consider it your labor day fix.

Connected by WorldANGLING from WorldANGLING on Vimeo.

Hopefully, it inspires him to get some sweet revenge.

Connected.

In memory of my brother's futile attempts to catch a monster Tortola permit the other day, I suggest watching another great short.  This one by Will Benson and World Angling. Consider it your labor day fix.

Connected by WorldANGLING from WorldANGLING on Vimeo.

Hopefully, it inspires him to get some sweet revenge.

"...a perpetual series of occasions of hope."

I was seconds away from calling it a day and heading home this afternoon when I spotted the fins, waving at me like two little flags. I was at Brandywine Beach on Tortola for the 2nd day in a row hoping to exact revenge on a 20"+ bonefish that had kicked my ass the day before.

Yesterday, there had been about a dozen bones cruising around on the flat, surprisingly large and aggressively feeding. Stacy had spotted them; her wildlife eyes are becoming more and more acute each time we head out. I casted to one fish tailing near a baby mangrove with his dorsal fins and tail waving at me. The two fins spun instantly and aligned themselves with my tiny shrimp as I stripped it once and let it sink. The fish zoomed over and paused right on my fly. I lifted the rod and offered a weak-ass strip set and she took off straight towards me. One, maybe two seconds later and it was all over.

My heart was hammering and I was not too pissed. It was progress, and a lot more action than we had been seeing the past few weeks. A massive storm front was rolling across the ocean towards us and a flash of lightning chased us off the flats a few minutes later.

Needless to say, we were pumped to get back out to the flats today and land a few of these fish.

We arrived at about 8:45am and didn't see a single fish, save one slammer barracuda that gave chase to a streamer, by lunch time. I dropped Stacy off at the school to get some work done and I went back to Brandywine. The flat is about as large as a football field and I alternately sat on the edge of it scanning the surface and making a slow lap around the edges of it in search of bonefish. After three hours of absolutely nothing, I headed back to the car.

Steps from the beach I happened to catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and saw the two fins waving in the air. They were different than a bonefish's fins...much too long. I realized a second later that I was about 20ft away from a tailing Permit. The water was knee deep and her back was sticking out of the water. She was massive. I stood, frozen in place as she slowly made her way towards me. She got within 10ft and I could make out a nasty scar above her right eye. This fish's head was about 6inches wide and the diameter of her circular body was longer than the height of my knees. She was feeding in the grassy bottom every 5ft or so and her dorsal and tail fins would thrash the surface each time she went down.

I was in awe of this fish and watched it do its thing for a full minute before I realized that the weight in my left hand was a 10wt fly rod and that I actually had a chance at this beast. It was then that I became nervous.

I stripped about 15ft of line and in one movement laid the tiny shrimp pattern 3ft in front of her face. I don't know how I did it.

To my absolute astonishment, she moved toward the fly...slowly, but with a purpose.

When she reached the very spot where my fly had settled she went down and her tail went up.

Remembering yesterday's embarrassment, I ferociously strip-set the fly to bury the hook point in the fish's mouth and felt life on the other end of my line.

My jaw dropped as the water exploded. There is no other way to describe the fury and adrenaline this fish unleashed. It streaked for the edge of the flat and the deep water beyond.

But something was wrong. My reel was not screaming in response. I stripped in some line and hoisted a 4 inch long yellow snapper from the water. I wish I could have seen my own face at the moment I realized I was not connected to the fish of a lifetime, but some bullshit sunny of the ocean.

I laughed out loud and tracked the wake the permit made as she powered out of sight.

We've been out on the water more than 12 times in the past three weeks, probably around 20 hours in all, and the missed bonefish yesterday, a few missed 'cuda strikes and that little yellow snapper today is all the action we've seen. However, it's things like today and the permit that keep me coming back.

The charm of fishing is that it's the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable. A perpetual series of occasions of hope. -Sir John Buchan

"...a perpetual series of occasions of hope."

I was seconds away from calling it a day and heading home this afternoon when I spotted the fins, waving at me like two little flags. I was at Brandywine Beach on Tortola for the 2nd day in a row hoping to exact revenge on a 20"+ bonefish that had kicked my ass the day before.

Yesterday, there had been about a dozen bones cruising around on the flat, surprisingly large and aggressively feeding. Stacy had spotted them; her wildlife eyes are becoming more and more acute each time we head out. I casted to one fish tailing near a baby mangrove with his dorsal fins and tail waving at me. The two fins spun instantly and aligned themselves with my tiny shrimp as I stripped it once and let it sink. The fish zoomed over and paused right on my fly. I lifted the rod and offered a weak-ass strip set and she took off straight towards me. One, maybe two seconds later and it was all over.

My heart was hammering and I was not too pissed. It was progress, and a lot more action than we had been seeing the past few weeks. A massive storm front was rolling across the ocean towards us and a flash of lightning chased us off the flats a few minutes later.

Needless to say, we were pumped to get back out to the flats today and land a few of these fish.

We arrived at about 8:45am and didn't see a single fish, save one slammer barracuda that gave chase to a streamer, by lunch time. I dropped Stacy off at the school to get some work done and I went back to Brandywine. The flat is about as large as a football field and I alternately sat on the edge of it scanning the surface and making a slow lap around the edges of it in search of bonefish. After three hours of absolutely nothing, I headed back to the car.

Steps from the beach I happened to catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and saw the two fins waving in the air. They were different than a bonefish's fins...much too long. I realized a second later that I was about 20ft away from a tailing Permit. The water was knee deep and her back was sticking out of the water. She was massive. I stood, frozen in place as she slowly made her way towards me. She got within 10ft and I could make out a nasty scar above her right eye. This fish's head was about 6inches wide and the diameter of her circular body was longer than the height of my knees. She was feeding in the grassy bottom every 5ft or so and her dorsal and tail fins would thrash the surface each time she went down.

I was in awe of this fish and watched it do its thing for a full minute before I realized that the weight in my left hand was a 10wt fly rod and that I actually had a chance at this beast. It was then that I became nervous.

I stripped about 15ft of line and in one movement laid the tiny shrimp pattern 3ft in front of her face. I don't know how I did it.

To my absolute astonishment, she moved toward the fly...slowly, but with a purpose.

When she reached the very spot where my fly had settled she went down and her tail went up.

Remembering yesterday's embarrassment, I ferociously strip-set the fly to bury the hook point in the fish's mouth and felt life on the other end of my line.

My jaw dropped as the water exploded. There is no other way to describe the fury and adrenaline this fish unleashed. It streaked for the edge of the flat and the deep water beyond.

But something was wrong. My reel was not screaming in response. I stripped in some line and hoisted a 4 inch long yellow snapper from the water. I wish I could have seen my own face at the moment I realized I was not connected to the fish of a lifetime, but some bullshit sunny of the ocean.

I laughed out loud and tracked the wake the permit made as she powered out of sight.

We've been out on the water more than 12 times in the past three weeks, probably around 20 hours in all, and the missed bonefish yesterday, a few missed 'cuda strikes and that little yellow snapper today is all the action we've seen. However, it's things like today and the permit that keep me coming back.

The charm of fishing is that it's the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable. A perpetual series of occasions of hope. -Sir John Buchan

Hard Times.

With the move down south to Delaware, I find myself having to adjust to an entirely different watershed. For someone used to fly fishing in Pennsylvania, this adjustment has been a little harsh. I left PA, addicted to carp and have spent the majority of my free time in DE searching for the golden ghost. My efforts have been futile. I found one waterway that is ideal to sight fish for carp on the fly. The 20 other waterways I drove to (long distances) yielded unsuitable conditions and a host of other problems...

No Trespassing

Private Property

Private Club

Private Water: Residents Only

No Fishing.

Found Everywhere I've Gone.

Usually A Good Sign For Carp.

Looking for waters, I have been using google earth, which is probably not the best way to go about finding areas open to fishing. The best spot I found, looked ideal from several thousand feet. There were parking lots, expansive lakes, small ponds, and to top it off they looked relatively shallow. When I drove over an hour to reach this destination, I was extremely excited. Arriving, I discovered that it was the headquarters for the Delaware Fish & Game. I thought I scored big time. However, I soon found out that all the water I was looking at was closed to fishing. Educational Purposes Only. I scouted out some other water before returning home dejected. 

My latest excursion had me heading north into Philadelphia. I googled places to feed ducks, hoping to find some old park pond where carp grew large off of scraps from little kids feeding ducks. My journey brought me to Roosevelt Park next to Lincoln Financial Field. Once again, from a thousand feet on google maps, the water looked pristine. When I arrived, it was anything but. I should have known because had read a review online detailing the park: 

Actual Review: Stinks. Literally, it stinks. Bleh! Dirty, ugly. Scary people. Stay away. You've been warned.

The Birds Practice Across The Street.

The Fans Use The Park Before & After Games.

When I arrived, I found another fisherman wading in what can only be described as a cesspool. He was throwing a top-water lure onto a layer of filth. As he retrieved it, the lure bounced off a variety of debri. Instead of lily pads, he dodged beer bottles; Yuengling, Coors, Heineken, Miller, etc. Not to mention, beach balls, shoes, styrofoam, diapers, and the works. I decided to rig up and scan the shoreline but I could never see passed that top layer of filth. I walked around the park before heading back home. It was well worth the hour drive. 

Pinball Fishing.

The Fans Treat The Park Well.

Park Museum, I Wonder If They Have Loop Gear?

The only carp I've caught since I started teaching was the largest I've caught in Delaware. He was only around 6-8 pounds though. I caught him after school one day. It took my mind off things for awhile and I was finally satisfied. 

Weeds Add Pounds.

Failing, Going For The Scoop.

Bringing Him In.

Satisfaction At Last.

Hard Times.

With the move down south to Delaware, I find myself having to adjust to an entirely different watershed. For someone used to fly fishing in Pennsylvania, this adjustment has been a little harsh. I left PA, addicted to carp and have spent the majority of my free time in DE searching for the golden ghost. My efforts have been futile. I found one waterway that is ideal to sight fish for carp on the fly. The 20 other waterways I drove to (long distances) yielded unsuitable conditions and a host of other problems...

No Trespassing

Private Property

Private Club

Private Water: Residents Only

No Fishing.

Found Everywhere I've Gone.

Usually A Good Sign For Carp.

Looking for waters, I have been using google earth, which is probably not the best way to go about finding areas open to fishing. The best spot I found, looked ideal from several thousand feet. There were parking lots, expansive lakes, small ponds, and to top it off they looked relatively shallow. When I drove over an hour to reach this destination, I was extremely excited. Arriving, I discovered that it was the headquarters for the Delaware Fish & Game. I thought I scored big time. However, I soon found out that all the water I was looking at was closed to fishing. Educational Purposes Only. I scouted out some other water before returning home dejected. 

My latest excursion had me heading north into Philadelphia. I googled places to feed ducks, hoping to find some old park pond where carp grew large off of scraps from little kids feeding ducks. My journey brought me to Roosevelt Park next to Lincoln Financial Field. Once again, from a thousand feet on google maps, the water looked pristine. When I arrived, it was anything but. I should have known because had read a review online detailing the park: 

Actual Review: Stinks. Literally, it stinks. Bleh! Dirty, ugly. Scary people. Stay away. You've been warned.

The Birds Practice Across The Street.

The Fans Use The Park Before & After Games.

When I arrived, I found another fisherman wading in what can only be described as a cesspool. He was throwing a top-water lure onto a layer of filth. As he retrieved it, the lure bounced off a variety of debri. Instead of lily pads, he dodged beer bottles; Yuengling, Coors, Heineken, Miller, etc. Not to mention, beach balls, shoes, styrofoam, diapers, and the works. I decided to rig up and scan the shoreline but I could never see passed that top layer of filth. I walked around the park before heading back home. It was well worth the hour drive. 

Pinball Fishing.

The Fans Treat The Park Well.

Park Museum, I Wonder If They Have Loop Gear?

The only carp I've caught since I started teaching was the largest I've caught in Delaware. He was only around 6-8 pounds though. I caught him after school one day. It took my mind off things for awhile and I was finally satisfied. 

Weeds Add Pounds.

Failing, Going For The Scoop.

Bringing Him In.

Satisfaction At Last.

First Day of Class...CANCLED! There’s Only One Thing to do...

The night before my first day of class I spent the night researching local lakes in search of carp to get my fix out here at school. My research yielded that a 45 pound carp was taken from a lake right up the street from campus. So the next morning I woke up early to check this place out.

I arrived at sunrise and started to patrol the shoreline, it only took 15 minutes and my damsel had been sucked in...and I was engaged with a carp…haha. I had seen a few more but lilly pads were making it difficult for me to place my fly. I resorted to working the shoreline with a huge bugger for the rest of my time out, it produced a small crappie and a largemouth.

I went back and got ready for class and did more research on this lake and discovered that it holds a substantial Muskie population, possible state record status…hmmm. I checked my email and was notified that class had been canceled…back to the lake it was. This time I brought my buddy Nate who I taught to fly fish last semester. We arrived at the lake and I was compelled to throw a 6 inch bunny streamer and work this weed bed next to a sharp drop off…This didn’t last too long, I need to pursue “The Fish of 10,000 Casts” on my own time. I rigged up with a large popper with a woolly bugger dropper and Nate and I took turns working this flat.

Nate With a PIG Largemouth..Haha



One of the 2 Best Pictures My Camera Has Ever Taken.

#2

My First Ever White Perch

Feisty Little Crappie

The Fish of The Day

Lost My Bugger on a Stump...

I need to tie some flies that mimic the bait fish that we caught this night. I think my goal for this semester is to tackle a musky on fly…