Saturday I loaded up my Kayak and headed North to the Stubblefield recreation area on Lake Conroe. I wanted to test out the new fin on my pedal drive after the Llano trip. I’d never been, but figured boat traffic would be lighter on the North end of the lake. I got there a little after sunrise and there was a good fog just lifting. I dropped my kayak and got on the water after enjoying some boat ramp entertainment.

Luckily I missed the drama myself. I saw a few boats on the water, couple kayakers. Everyone else was courteous and the traffic was light enough for a Saturday. I started hitting the lily pads right away with a frog popper on my 5 wt and nailed a small bluegill right away. I was surprised and thought the fishing might go better than I expected. However, after that I missed one take, and the top water went cold. There were lots of large splashes from fishing hitting the surface behind me in the center of the water.

I switched to a larger cone head streamer. On my second cast I felt a deep slow gulp take my fly. I strip set the hook once, twice and started stripping the fish towards me, I thought. As soon as the fish was at the edge of the kayak just lower than I could see, it turned, my rod started to bow, and instantly the line was slack. A clean take of my fresh new fly. I presume it was a large, inconsiderate, gar that took my fly right off the tippet clean.

I saw several larger gar hitting the surface after that. Lesson learned, stick to the banks when that’s on the surface. I started to move further up stream and saw a good size gator a few hundred feet ahead. I made my way into a tighter passage out of the wind, away from the gator, and tried to find some bass. With the vegetation overgrowing the edge of the water it was seemingly impossible to get my fly close enough to provoke a fish. I inspected several lily pads and tree branches to verify my hypothesis.

I tried top water, bead head wooly buggers, and zonkers to try to get the attention of the LMB I knew were in the area, none with any success. Maybe the fish were less interested in my fly since the spawn had already occurred. I saw several large schools of bass smaller than my pinky moving in the tighter water. I lost track of another gator when I was in the tight water and it smacked the surface about 20′ feet behind me to let me know I should move.

Over the course of the morning I saw at least two dozen gar, and nothing else worth writing home about. After noon, the wind was picking up and I decided to pack it in. Next time I’ll come back with a full sink line instead of a floating line. I have a suspicion I was not in the feeding column in many parts of the area. 

Grant

I had looked at my calendar, noted some upcoming conflicts, and decided that March 10-13 would be my last opportunity to fish for rainbow trout on the Guadalupe River for the 2024-25 season. The Guadalupe River Trout Unlimited (GRTU) Lease Access Program generally goes from November through March. During this time, our local GRTU chapter (the largest in the country) stocks trout in the Guadalupe River tailwater below Canyon Lake. The water coming out of the dam is cold enough for trout. But by early April, the water temperature is beginning to rise and it can become unsustainable for the trout the further one gets from the dam. Generally, it is recommended that anglers not fish for trout once the water gets above about 68 degrees. Fighting them in warm water stresses them out, increasing the mortality rate. Most of the trout that are put in the Guadalupe River either die or are harvested by end of the season. Though, some survive to the next year. A lot depends on the water temperature and water flow. Unfortunately the flow is very low this year as West Texas is in a drought, and Canyon Lake is quite low, less than 50% full.

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Well, it happened again. I needed to get away. So, I impulsively decided to pack up my camping and fly fishing gear and head to the Guadalupe River (March 10-12). I needed some space. It would be just me, myself and I…and Nature—not a bad combination.

Steven Charleston captured the “calling” I felt:

“Come to this quiet center, this place of peace [often in Nature for me], where you can turn off the information flow and just take time to think. Spirit is waiting for you here. You can close your eyes and feel warm energy moving through you. Then after a blessing from your ancestors you can go back to the world, but this time: smiling.”

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I had a “health scare” in the first week of October. I won’t go into details (call or write if you want the details), but let me just say it was a close call. I headed down the path to the Other Side, but decided to come back for a little while longer. One of the really sad results was that I had to cancel several fishing trips including, three days on the Brazos River with The Texas FlyFishers Club, and three days of trout fishing with a friend at Broken Bow in Oklahoma. That was to be followed by three days fishing for small mouth bass on the Illinois River in Oklahoma. And Judy had to come home from the middle of a trip she was on with some girl friends. Durn…as if it wasn’t bad enough to almost die, I had to miss a lot of good time fly fishing with friends! 

 Judy and I planned a 13-day trip for early November. Due to recent health issues for both of us, we were a little anxious about leaving…to the point that we did not start packing until the day before we were to leave, fearful of needing to cancel (Judy usually starts that process several days early.). But we were able to make the trip. We visited our children/grandchildren in MS for a few days, then went on to connect with friends in Blue Ridge, GA, for five days. In route we met three couples for lunch in Birmingham. On the trip back, we made stops in Birmingham, AL, Hattiesburg, MS, Baton Rouge, LA, and Beaumont, TX, to catch up with friends. Fortunately we were able to get away and had a wonderful time. We ended up connecting with eleven couples/friends on the trip. That in and of itself made it a great trip! Judy was actually able to connect with one friend that we had not seen since 1986. Before the trip, Judy had been talking with her and they realized we would be in Blue Ridge at the same time. Go figure! 

 In addition to quality time with family and friends, I was able to work in a four days of fly fishing. The first day was at a local pond in my daughter’s neighborhood. We were at her house one day when she and her husband were both working and their daughter was at school. So I snuck off for a few hours. I managed to catch about 30: 1 bass, 2 skinny crappie, and the rest were nice-sized sunfish. It was good to get on the water and do some casting. And I do love catching sunfish. I like how they hit the fly. I like how they go in circles. I like the variety of colors. I admire their strength for their size. Nick Williams captures some of my feelings about fishing for sunfish: “Lepomis macrochirus, or the mundane bluegill, is not just a pretty fish, it’s a transcendently beautiful one. The only reason we don’t compose haiku and write novels about them is because, wherever you are as you read this, you’re less than an hour away from a river or stream that they live in. Probably much less than that, if you know how to look for water. You’ve gotten used to them, just as you’ve probably gotten used to the way traffic lights look reflected in puddles at night, or the way bread smells, or the way your spouse calls your name. It’s a shame, because as common as these things are, they’re all profoundly strange and impossible to satisfactorily explain.”  

On Monday, November 4, we headed for a cabin in Blue Ridge, GA. Tuesday morning I was able to get out and wade fish on Noontootlah Creek with a guide. I love wade fishing in streams. I like the feel of the water. I like the smells. I like the scenery. I like the connection to the fish in the water. That has become my favorite kind of fishing. Dominick Swentosky captures the experience: “We wade for the feel of it, for the sensory return when we’re an active part of the river itself. We push waves and move currents. Wading a river places us inside the system that we love so much—what we long for and dream about for so long. What we’ve anticipated, we are part of once again. Our boots touch the same rocks where trout reside. Our legs feel the swirl of currents that carry life to those trout—oxygen and food, all mixed and passing at varying speed. A timeless procession of resources in the flow, and we’re part of it all.” 

The Noontootlah is a small, remote, spring creek with lots of stones, boulders, and fallen trees to climb over and go around. It is formed at Three Forks, where Long Creek, Chester Creek, and Stove Creek join. It empties into the Toccoa River. We were targeting small wild rainbow trout. I was using an 8’ 4wt rod. Had to do some bow and arrow casting. We fished for about 4 hours. I’m not gonna lie; it was hard wading for this 75-year old! I ended up getting about 6 into the net. They were small (about 8”) but quite colorful and satisfying. At the end of 4 hours, I was totally exhausted. I was about to cry “uncle” when it was time to quit. I’m not sure if I was still recovering from my health event a few weeks earlier, or I’m just getting older, or maybe both, but I was exhausted. It took me all afternoon and evening to recover. 

I had planned to fish by myself on Wednesday, but I was so tired, I chose not to fish. And to be honest, I was a little nervous about being in a remote area I did not know, with no cell service by myself. I think I made a good decision. 

Fortunately, I was able to work with the guide to schedule another half-day on Thursday. When setting it up with him, I let him know I needed a stream that would be a little easier to wade. We decided on some private water on the headwaters of the Cartecay River out of Ellijay, GA. The Cartecay is a 19-mile long feeder of the Coosawattee River. The bottom was mostly sandy or gravel. Much easier to wade. The river had a quite different feel, not as rugged and remote. Anticipating some bigger fish than Tuesday and having a little more space to cast, I took a 9’ 5wt rod. Soon after we got in the water I hooked a large fish—the guide thought about 20”. He was fun for a few minutes….until he broke my line. Henry Winkler describes the challenge of landing a big trout. “It is a very delicate balance, a very delicate dance, because if you try to muscle that fish? The line at the end of holding the fly is as thin as the thread holding the button on your shirt, and it will just break off.” A little later I caught a rainbow that was in the 18-19” range. He was really fat, so it took quite awhile to get him in (I had on 5X tippet). My wrist was hurting by the time I got him him in. It did take about a half dozen good runs before I got it in. It seemed like 10 minutes, but it was probably less.  

While there, my guide offered to let me try his Euro-nymphing rod and give me a lesson. I said, “Sure.” He tied on a chartreuse mop fly. I commented that I had not had much luck with them. But, lo and behold, I caught one with the mop fly and another three using the tight line method—my first fish on a chartreuse mop fly and my first fish using that method. That gave me a little confidence to give it a try back on the Guadalupe River. 

 I ended up catching another 18-incher and altogether 20-25 rainbows. Most of the time I was using a hopper/dropper method. One time when bringing in one trout we both saw a big one swimming by. Then I caught another one and we saw the big one again. I kept working the area until he finally hit my hopper. He came out of the water like a big large mouth bass. There was a big splash. I set the hook….. but alas I didn’t get it. Oh well, the experience sure got my heart rate up.  

On the way home we stopped in Baton Rouge, and I connected with my good friend Roger for a few hours of large mouth bass fishing in a private pond. Roger has caught quite a few in the 5-10 pound range in this pond. But that day, the ones we caught were in the 1½ to 2 pound range—no big ones. I got about 4 in. Roger was using a bait casting rod and landed about 12. Another good day to be with good friend and few cooperating fish. 

The trip ended with a wonderful lunch with friends in Beaumont, TX, and making plans for a fishing trip for red fish in marshes, hopefully soon! 

 “Life and fly fishing are metaphors for each other. And this day of many casts and one final connection was the gift of Zen-like understanding. You see my friends; this day reflected the lesson I want every half-broken human heart to learn and remember. No matter what life may give you or seem to take away, there is always hope. When the rain falls, embrace it. Let those life-giving droplets cleanse your wounds and grow new wildflowers in your soul. Embrace struggle for the gift it truly is and accept loss for the precious lessons it offers to teach us. It is in hardship that we are all defined. Expectations are the root of all suffering. Fish or no fish, every day on the water is a gift.”  ~ Steve Ramirez, Casting Homeward

Paul E. Robertson
Ph.D., M.Div., ACPE Certified Educator
“Retired from work, but not from life.”