Fishing buddy Paul Knauth of Hinsdale and I recently returned from a 4-day fly fishing trip to New York’s Adirondacks region. Our intent was to fish the AuSable River in Wilmington, NY, a small town near Lake Placid. We were hoping for good weather, good fishing and no mosquitos or blackflies. (We should have also hoped for no “no-see-ums”).
On the way up the Northway, I was wondering if anything would happen on this trip which would warrant mentioning in this column. Hopefully, whatever happens would be positive.
Every time I fish there, thoughts of the late Francis Betters surface. For 47 years, as the owner of the Adirondack Sports Shop and renowned fishing expert, he was at his desk tying up flies and offering advice to customers and fellow fishermen. He once told me that he tied and sold nearly 30,000 flies a year. He is credited for creating several great trout flies, most notably the AuSable Wulff (my favorite fly), the Haystack, the Usual and several others. The AuSable Wulff was named one of the top 10 trout flies of all time by Field and Stream magazine, along with the Haystack. Fran also wrote several fly-fishing and fly-tying books. He was inducted into the Catskill Fly Fishing Hall of Fame in 2008 and passed beyond the riverbend in 2009.
Shortly after arriving and checking into our cabin (Wilderness Inn) Paul and I headed out to fish the river. Paul chose to head upstream and fish down to the car while I chose to go downstream and fish back. The river was on the low side this year so I kept walking downstream until I found good looking water, albeit on the wild and turbulent side.
Thinking of Francis, I chose to fish with one of his Haystacks. In fact, I believe it was one that he tied up for it was much better than the ones I tie. On the 3rd cast, the heavy current swung the fly immediately to the outlet rim of the hole and got snagged onto a rock ….or so I thought. When I tried to work it off of the rock, there was a serious pull that indicated that a big trout was on the other end of the line. After a serious battle, I was able to bring the fish to my feet and discovered that it was a beautiful brown trout of about 18 inches long.
Hoping to get a picture of it, I reached for my smart phone. Of course, it was in my pants pocket, way down deep in the chest waders. While the fish was resting at my feet in about 6 inches of water, I finally got the phone out to take a picture. I decided to lay the reel and rod next to the fish so that one could get a rough idea of the its size. But doing that caused the fish to dart away and snap the leader. It didn’t know it was free and lingered a while, allowing me to take pictures of it. After it swam away, I distinctly remember saying, “Here’s your fly back, Francis”.
Perhaps that’s the story for this column.
The following night, Paul was fishing with a Blue Winged Olive emerger fly when he hooked into a lunker. After a lengthy battle, with the fish swimming all around that pool, he finally landed it. It also was an 18-inch brown trout. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a camera with us, but I can attest to its size. It fought so hard that I thought I would have to step out of the pool so that it wouldn’t swim near and wrap the line around me. An 18-inch wild brown trout doesn’t come by frequently. In fact, I can probably count the number of them caught in my lifetime on one hand.
Perhaps that would be the story for this column.
On this trip, Paul and I decided to explore the North Branch of the Saranac River to see what the fishing was like there. Neither of us had ever fished the stretch near Clayburg, NY. We spent a day and a half there catching mainly small wild brook and brown trout.
On the second day there, we stopped for a lunch break in a fishing access area. While there, a young girl, approximately 13 years old rode by on a bike, and she had a fishing pole. After lunch, Paul and I separated, this time he headed downstream and I went upstream to a bridge. While approaching it, I saw a bike along the side of the road. It was that girl’s bike and she was fishing where I wanted to go.
From the bridge, I could see that she was fishing with an inexpensive spinning rod and a Zebco reel. After saying “hi” to her and finding out which direction she was going to fish (she was going to fish there under the bridge), I went downstream about 120 feet to give her space. What enfolded then was a scene reminiscent of an old Ed Zern caricature.
All of a sudden, I heard a terrific splash and looking toward the sound, saw the girl fighting a large brown trout which once again jumped a foot in the air. Her inexpensive rod was seriously bent, but she fought and subsequently beached that trout like a pro. I shouted congratulations and commended her for the great job of landing it. “What is it, about 15 inches?” I asked. “I don’t know,” she said “It’s the biggest fish I ever caught”. Oh, how I wished I had the camera there.
Here I was fishing out in the middle of the river with thousands of dollars worth of equipment consisting of an expensive fly rod, reel, chest waders, wading staff, wooden net, a fishing vest with several hundred trout flies in it and a myriad of other gadgets hanging from it, and catching nothing. And there was this young girl who arrived by bicycle, dressed in shorts and sneakers, fishing from the bank with an inexpensive fishing pole, reel and worms and catching that big fish. How classic is that?
The girl showed up again later that day, this time with her boyfriend who also arrived by bike, a lad of about 14 years old. When Paul saw them, he conceded his fishing spot to them and commented on how she was now famous in the area, having caught that big brown trout (which ultimately measured out to be 14 ½ inches). She was beaming from ear to ear.
After lauding her great accomplishment, I commented to the boy that he was going to have to work hard to catch a bigger trout than her’s. “Well”, he said, “I taught her how to fish!” Paul, picked up on the lad’s wounded pride, immediately said, “You sure did a great job of teaching!
This true story is classic and deserves to be in this week’s column. Wouldn’t you agree?
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