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Originally posted at the Carp Angler's Group FFing forum:

 

So, after meeting up with fellow CAG'er AF Bob yesterday to fish the very brown Speedwell Forge Reservoir, I had it. The itch. The bug. I had flailed about in the wind for a little bit at Speedwell, but quickly accepted the futility of my actions and settled in for good conversation over non-existant fish.

 

But now I had to get one. Had to. I had led Bob through the twisting, turning, double-blindfolded (which makes driving interesting laugh.gif ) path to my favorite little mirror pond in the local industrial complex, with the suggestion that he give it a try today. I would be unable to meet up with him this afternoon, so like any good host, I was *obligated* to pre-fish the pond and "feel it out", right? biggrin.gif

 

Rolled over at lunch time, stringing up the rod as I loped over the railroad tracks and down toward the water. Saw a small pod of 3 fish headed up the shoreline and stripped off 20 feet of line and laid a small chartreuse wooly bugger with a gold bead head a couple feet in front and to the side of the fish. In perfect fashion, a single carp broke out of the group, turned back on the fly, and went nose down, tail up. A short strip set and the water was flying as a very upset mirror screamed out of the shallows.

 

The fish was rapidly on the reel, trying to shoot off down the shoreline. Problem. 4+ feet of tree sticking out off the shoreline said carp was trying to head down. I reined in hard on the fish, turning its head, only to have it rocket off toward the thick of the tree. Well, that wasn't what I was hoping for. I ran up the bank as I stripped line, trying to get pressure on the fish and out of the branches. The connection finally came solid and the fish sped off down the shore again. I leaned back on the rod again, and then a second and third time. It was finally too much, and the line went slack. Damn, now I've got the itch and an adrenaline rush.

 

"You know, you're not supposed to let them get off," came a voice from over my shoulder. I smiled sheepishly and grinned.

 

"If they didn't get loose occasionally, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun!"

 

The travelling fork lift repairman I had parked beside headed down to the water, wanting to talk fly rods and fishing. We chatted for a bit, talking carp, dry flies and cane rods. "Maybe I'll have to get my rod out of its case and give this a shot sometime," he said.

 

I handed him a couple of favorite patterns. "Look forward to seeing you out here some time."

 

But there were fish to be caught. But first, a spot report for Bob. I called up his cell, and left a message sounding something like this:

 

"Hey Bob. At the industrial park pond we looked at last night. Fish are up and willing to eat. Definitely worth a trip to swing by this afternoon. Just lost one LDR trying to keep it out of a tree. Umm, I see a fish swimming up the line...gotta go!"

 

I worked my way around the pond, finding a good sized pod of fish stacked up at the inlet to the pond. I flipped the day-glo bugger out in front of a small mirror and was rewarded as the fish slurped the fly out of the water column. Quick strip set, and we're on! No trees over the water here to wrap up in.

 

The fight was lethargic at first, but the little carpio got a head of steam built up and shot off toward the far side of the pond. After a couple of more runs, it turned into a short line tug-of-war that ended with the hook being slipped out of the fish's upper lip and the carp drifting off into the murky water. Yes! Itch successfully scratched!

 

A second fish took a swing at the same fly as I worked some more casts around the inlet, but in my amped up state, I struck to soon and sent the fish and its compatriot blistering off into the depths.

 

Jason

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Hex,

 

With a combo of cross country move, ISO roll out at work, and my daughter's upcoming birthday....I'm lucky to get on the computer, much less tie sad.gif

 

But thanks for the info! headbang.gif

 

Jason

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