I think the real beauty of fishing is in its perversity, you have little control over the outcome, no control over the environment, yet you drag yourself out of bed time and time again knowing somehow someone will deal you some Aces.

I’ve been at the mercy of water managers most of the last 40 days, with “too high” or “too low” interspersed with “off color” and wind. Just when I figure conditions are right some unfeeling SOB pulls a handle and the water department has another chuckle at my expense.

Friday I’d taken the gal out for a wade on the Little Stinking, outfitting her with a set of Hodgeman hip boots so she could finally see what lay beyond the roadway. New to wading and tentative, the creek offers a nice gravel bottom that’s easy and friendly.

While wandering up the StairMaster stretch I kept seeing wakes heading upstream on the shallow side and assumed they were beaver. It was spawning Carp, and assisted with my “spotter” I had some brief fun throwing flies at them with little effect.

Dammit, those were fish – more fish than I’d seen for months and I figured to come back and try it again this weekend.

The water managers had a better idea, and as I climbed out of the vehicle yesterday morning, the creek was smaller by half. As most of the outing was the exercise, I’m primed for another five mile hike with little to show for it, add in Saturday’s coffee flavored “Gunfire Lake” trip – and I’m feeling a bit put upon.

The Carp are gone and I take a seat at the top of the StairMaster run determined to enjoy everything else. Beautiful day, pleasant hike, and perverse fishing.

… then the Stonefly landed on my left shoulder. I’m assuming it to be some crop pest intent on gnawing my arm off – glance over, and am taken completely off guard. Stoneflies are sacred stuff, requiring heavily oxygenated water, riffles, and are used as a water quality barometer. Their presence means “good things” – and as I’d never seen one on the Little Stinking, it was welcome.

I’m reinvigorated as someone’s mistakenly dealt me an Ace..

As the creek is down by half, I march up to the Big Bass stretch knowing it’s the deepest water for miles, and the drop in flow may mean they’re  more accessible  – and a likely spookier.

Plenty of fish visible on the bottom, most are Pikeminnow intermixed with Bass – it’s nothing new, they sit tight and give you the “finger” while you rummage through the fly box hoping for a miracle.

I fiddled with flies, finally opting for one of the glass bead experimental leeches I’d made last year. I flipped it across the creek and in doing so, wrapped a couple turns of running line around my foot. While extricating myself I feel the tell tale tap of a fish, hit and gone…

Dead drift, on the bottom, no motion – let’s try this again…

Must’ve been a fluke, one large desperate bass with a taste for glass beads? All the finely crafted flies I skittered, bumped, and swam past their noses – and a little dead drifted glass is the bloody secret?

Apparently so, and I didn’t argue much as my hitless streak had grown to legendary proportion. Even the big Pikeminnow lying untouchable on the bottom ate the leech like it was candy.

But the shocker was better than anything I’d imagined, I’ve landed a couple bass and a pair of large Pikeminnow, and I hook what appears to be another smaller fish. Funny, it’s not fighting like the Pikeminnow does – it’s long and silvery, can’t be anything but …

… a trout.

Bright silver with no hint of the pinkish side coloration – it’s laying in my hand and I forgot camera and everything else. I’m guessing it’s actually a steelhead, about 13″ long and full of piss and vinegar.

Despite the Mercury, sinister water managers, and chiding of fellow anglers, and the long odds of that fish coming all the way up from the ocean, to meet briefly over a bit of brightly colored glass.

It’s a perverse and wonderful sport.

Technorati Tags: steelhead, smallmouth bass, stonefly, pikeminnow, fish porn