During the summer months the prevailing winds blow through the Columbia Gorge from west to east, against the river current, which creates the exciting conditions that draw wind-powered water-sport enthusiasts from around the world. Once in a while we get an east wind. These don’t last very long and are rarely very strong. I had been fishing an east-facing cove where the carp had shown up in anticipation of the coming spawn. I was ambivalent about even launching the boat as I was pretty sure the wind would put the fish off.
I was right.
The wind was sustained and pushing directly into the cove. I checked a few more nearby spots. Also no good. Not to be undone, I trailered the boat and dropped it off at the house and then headed back out with my waders in the trunk, in search of some water sheltered from the east wind.
My first stop was a spot had been keeping an eye on since I discovered it while exploring late in the winter. It had a very nice looking sand flat that I had been fantasizing about fishing, but the flat faced west, towards the prevailing wind, and I hadn’t seen a single fish there during my previous visits. The east wind, however, had left the flat calm and glassy, and the early afternoon sun lit up the bottom, making for excellent sight-fishing conditions.
The skinks were out, the beavers had been busy, and it turned out that the carp were active, too.
About halfway across the flat I spotted a lone fish, tailing lazily in the sand, the very scenario I had been dreaming about. I had a hybrid fly with a black body tied on (a variation I have been calling the “shadow hybrid” because it sounds cool). The fly had been working extremely well. Two days prior I had landed five fish on it at a small lake, with a bunch more missed fish due to user error. One day before I had hooked five more fish in the river but lost four of them, including a real beast, due to run-of-the-mill bad luck. Needless to say, I was confident in my fly, so I was confused when the fish had zero reaction to my offering. Often, moving a fly from in front of a fish, to recast it for example, will spook a carp, but I tried it anyway. The carp didn’t react to the disturbance, and continued to ignore the fly when I made a second cast. It was facing me at an angle so I was dropping the fly on the near side of the fish to avoid placing the leader over the fish’s head. I made a third cast, dropping the hybrid a bit farther away and more in front of the fish. Then I just left it there and waited. The carp turned slowly towards me, munching its way along the bottom, and then paused and turned back to tail right on my fly. I set the hook, and the fight was on.
It was a gnarly old fish and I decided I wanted a picture. In my haste to transition from boat to waders I had arrived without a net or tripod, so I had to prop my phone up on a big rock and then gingerly bring the fish in with my bare hands. It wasn’t until I had taken my photos and was releasing the fish that I noticed he was missing his left eye! (The females are swollen with eggs so it’s pretty easy to tell the sex of the fish at this time of year.) The whole encounter suddenly made a lot more sense. With a laugh, I gave the one-eyed jack a gently push and watched him swim away. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
The Fishing Dojo 