Looking back through my journal notes I think I am forced to admit that the carp fishing season on the Columbia River ended in September. I still saw a few carp in October, and even caught one on November 2, but September was the last time I saw decent numbers of feeding carp in the main river. Even though the season is officially over, on the right day I can still manage to hook some carp on the fly at a few secret lakes and ponds.
I don’t like to fish these spots too frequently, because they aren’t large and I don’t want to harass the fish too much while they are trying to stock up on calories for the winter, so most days I settle for a bit of casting practice, or maybe try my luck for trout on the Deschutes. Still, it’s tough to beat carp fishing:
November 13: The water level was low and the shallows had warmed up a bit after a few mild days. I hiked to a secret pond where I landed seven carp including three over nine pounds. Not bad for a couple of hours in November!
December 4: I fished a big, shallow lake where there are a lot of smaller carp. The trick with this spot is knowing which sections of the shoreline are firm enough to fish from, otherwise you quickly wind up knee-deep in boot-sucking mud. On this day a cold wind was blowing and the water temperature was in the low forties, but I managed to land one carp on a small white nymph. As I made my way further around the lake I noticed a cormorant in a narrow channel connecting the main lake to a smaller back bay. The bird was swimming vigorously but making no headway and to my dismay I quickly saw that it was hopelessly tangled in a litter of fishing line. I clambered down the rocks and used my fly to hook the length of line that had tethered the poor bird. Once I pulled it close I used my landing net to sort of scoop it onto the bank. I knew that the bird would be keen to bite me so I used a technique I remembered from working with seals many years ago at the Waikiki Aquarium. I covered the bird’s head with my jacket, which seemed to work in calming it down. It held still while I used my little nippers to cut away gobs and gobs of heavy monofilament from it’s wing and leg. Why anyone would need 50 lb. test line in a lake where the biggest fish are only about five pounds is beyond me. I had intentionally not taken any pictures as I didn’t want to end up with some kind of avian snuff film, and I was still pretty worried for the bird when I finally cut away the last of the line, but when I lifted off my jacket and released it from the net, the cormorant immediately leapt up and dove into the water. With a few strong flaps it took to the air and flew low and away across the lake.
December 10: An atmospheric river had just unloaded its moisture on the Cascade Mountains, followed by some unseasonably mild temperatures. The river was higher than it had been in months and I suspected that the rain might have warmed up some of the smaller lakes. The first spot I checked was already occupied by duck hunters, but the second spot was busy with hungry carp. Between the heavy clouds and the murky green water, the visibility was pretty poor and the first few fish I hooked at a rod’s length by dapping them with a bead-head nymph. One fish, about eight pounds, actually managed a pretty good run, but another fish, over ten pounds, was so lethargic I managed to scoop it into my net before it realized it was hooked. The last fish I caught during a small break in the clouds and a pause between wind gusts. I cast about fifteen feet and made a proper drag-and-drop. The carp made a quick turn to one side and I saw its tail wave as it munched my fly. It was also well over ten pounds, and I wondered if it had somehow swam over from the main river in the high water.
My next challenge is a January carp. I would like to beat Barry and Brad (of Carp on the Fly book fame) and catch carp on the fly all twelve months out of the year, not just eleven, but we will see! In the meantime, Belizean bonefish beckon.
The Fishing Dojo 