A Screwed Up Day

I miss trout, and with precious little action now in my local waters I determined to make a trip back to the Brookville tailwater. That's the closest place to home that I can find trout.

I screwed up. The cardinal rule when you're driving a distance to fish is to be sure to check water levels first.

I drove the two hours to Brookville without doing that, and, wouldn't you know it, someone had flipped a switch and tons of water were being released from the reservoir. Dang.

I stayed and fished. It was bank fishing, working streamers and nymphs as far as I could roll cast them. I was hopeful that the swing up along the bank might find a trout or two seeking refuge in the soft spots there. It reminded me a little of fishing Rocky Ford Creek in Washington state. The only difference was that I caught trout there.

I started fishing the current seam between this backwater and the racing flow in the main channel. I could roll cast far enough to cover the whole seam. There were a few fish breaking the surface right out in front of me, but I couldn't get anything to take a fly.

Then it was like someone flipped a switch. In quick succession I caught a mess of bass and crappie. I hoped for a trout in there somewhere but it was not to be.

Then the switch was flipped off and the fun was over.

On the one hand, I didn't catch any trout. On the other hand, that was the most fish I've caught in some time. Not bad for a screwed up day.

Tempted by the Dark Side

Early in June, on a hot day, I explored a new location. This is one of the many access points on Lake Monroe, the giant reservoir in this part of the state. Yellowwood Lake is 133 acres. Monroe is 10,750 acres. From this boat ramp you're still a long way from the main lake, but there is a lot of water to fish right close.

I caught a small bass pretty quick which gave me hope. But I covered a lot of water using a whole variety of flies--and plastic worms trolled slowly through weed beds, something I thought was a sure bet--but caught nothing until a little crappie grabbed my woolly bugger just before I got back to the ramp.

There were fish around, though: carp. They were rolling and breaching everywhere I went. The sound of large scaly bodies crashing into the water punctuated the afternoon.

Now, I was raised to disdain these fish, to consider them "trash fish," to spell their name as "crap." But on this day I began to think it wouldn't be such a bad thing to hook into one of these pigs. 

I'm giving it some thought.

Growing On Me

I came on my own to Griffey Lake and had a lovely evening. It felt like summer. I had found another yellow streamer, and it was as effective as it had been at Yellowwood.

Off the first rocky point as you head north along the west shoreline I found three bass in quick succession. I thought I might have found the glory hole, but that remains an open search.

I added a couple more sunfish species to my catch list with some Pumpkinseeds and Redears. I still miss trout, and I was still looking for that big bass, but the sunfish family does grow on you the more you catch them.