Category Archives: Striper Fishing

In Spring a Young Man’s thoughts turn to Cloudy Water

Spring is synonymous with the “Great Flush” wherein increased water levels caused by rain and snowmelt sends leaves, branches, empty water bottles, discarded Pandemic masks, and everything not nailed down – into whatever body of water is downstream.

I always seem to run into dirty water regardless of where I’m fishing and am always fiddling with flies attempting to find a solution to their visual appeal being obscured by debris and dirt.

The drought has complicated matters as well. As the water in lakes are drawn down it exposes loose dirt with little vegetation to hold it in place. Wave action caused by wind will stir that mix into a coffee colored slick that will extend it’s plume into the lake from the windward side of every point.

Wind and shallow water are common to both freshwater lakes and the California Delta. Vegetation tends to cleanse dirty water but a drought, coupled with the time of year, weeds are not available. Much of the underwater vegetation dies back during the Fall and Winter months, and the spring flush often empties into lakes whose weeds have not yet started their new cycle. The California Delta has less water level fluctuation and much more resident vegetation but is prone to wind which stirs the water in the shallows – disturbing bottom debris and sediment which quickly discolors water in the surrounding flats.

As fly fishing lacks many of the sensory elements of other types of fishing, like scent or sound, we are at a disadvantage when water conditions are less than ideal. Watching those Pro Bass shows often tempts me into using “Scent of a Thousand Nightcrawlers,” but I’ve resisted thus far only because the oily mess is likely to mat all materials and render flies lifeless and stiff.

Sound is a viable option on flies, but their method of attachment is a bit problematic. Many kinds of rattles exist for the bass jig market and might be adapted to flies with a bit of ingenuity.

The volume of rattle equipped baits on the lure and plug market suggests both lure manufacturers and anglers believe it attractive to predatory fish. As I’ve not read all the science (yet), I’ll assume the mob is onto something and all those rattle equipped lures are something more than a means to separate a fool and his money … and sound is an attribute to a fly in discolored water.

While not expert on sounds emitted by baitfish – it’s likely digestive noises and excess air are present in the innards of anything that isn’t a plant. Water transmits sound readily but I’m unsure whether “bad” noises exist and whether gastric noises or baitfish flatulence is attractive to predators. The act of swimming, either leisurely or frantically, is likely to add vibration (sound) into the water as well. The receptor on a predacious fish is likely its lateral line – as sound is likely transmitted through water as a vibration.

The bigger question is, which sounds and what pitch are triggers for large fish? Big sound, loud or soft, continuous sound or discrete notes?

I’d guess that the species and feeding behavior of the predator adds a unique mix of triggers, and Sailfish may respond to bigger sounds that would send a trout fleeing in terror. Schooling bait likely “sounds” different than a solitary minnow, so part of the mix will vary with the fish sought or imitated by the rattle equipped fly.

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Rattles exist in a number of options, most are for jigs and bait casting gear. Three basic styles are the dual harness type (XTech), the “Pepper Jig” type – whose rattles fit into a rubber harness akin to a set of Mickey Mouse ears (rattles in the box), and the fly tying rattle (Eye Glass Rattle) – which are shaped like a traditional “barbell” eye, and attached in the same way.

All of these are “dogs with fleas” for the adventurous fly tier. Both the dual harness and the Pepper Jig rattles rely on a rubber element that can be lashed onto a hook with ease. Unfortunately, rubber will oxidize and you might lose the rattle after a season or two. The basic cylinder of the “Pepper” shaped rattle is problematic and bulbous, so securing it to the shank without using the harness is an issue, both in secure attachment and in its interference in tying the actual fly itself.

The “barbell” style rattle eyes have little or no sound as the beads are so tiny, so if it’s the noise you’re after, the fly tying version are essentially worthless. As I am unsure which sounds are most desirable to Striped Bass and Largemouth/Smallmouth, and sound is the solution to combat discolored water, I choose to use the larger beads and noisiest rattles ; the double barbell and/or Pepper Jig flavor.

The physics of rattles has to be considered as well. Rattles create sound as one or more “BB’s” hit either end of a air filled chamber. Air is buoyant  so the larger rattles (containing bigger beads and more trapped air) can alter the buoyancy of the completed fly. Using a double rattle will exacerbate the issue, so it’s prudent to drop your flies in a glass of water to determine whether you’ve affected the rake or pitch of the fly in the water.

I chose to use a single rattle from the dual harness. I trim the harness at the center bulb and tie the stem portion onto the hook shank in the tail position. this allows the bucktail or marabou to flow around the rattle body and hide it within the fly.

It’s worthy to note that both the dual harness and “Pepper Jig” variants can be threaded onto the fly by simply forcing the hole in the center harness over the fly head or onto the leader itself. This offers the ability to add and remove rattles to your existing flies but relies on the elasticity of the plastic to remain securely attached. It’s plain the maker would have chosen a plastic that resists oxidation, as jigs are subject to sunlight as well as flies, but the force of casting the fly coupled with stretching the rubber ring over the hook eye will likely cause it to fail sooner than its traditional use.

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On the above “Little Bluegill” you can see the single barrel of the rattle tied in at the tail position. I have spread open the marabou to show the rattle, and when fished the rattle is not visible nor does it seem to affect the fly action. Any buoyancy issues will be overpowered by the lead eyes up front.

Mounting the rattle at the tail keeps it from obstructing the gape of the hook. Threading rattles onto the leader or eye means the barrels have the ability to dangle below the fly and may cause some issues with hook setting on smaller hooks. I trimmed the tether short to keep the barrel up tight to the shank of the hook rather than allowing it to sag to one side or the other.

Marabou striper flies fully loaded with water are already heavy things to hurl, so I didn’t notice issues with the increased weight. A fully loaded 2/0 is about as aerodynamic as a small school bus, so wear protective gear regardless.

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I fished Sherman Island just after two days of blustery wind last week and managed to score a single eight pound striper. The water was noticeably dirty from all the wind activity and while I cannot say it was the rattle that seduced the slimy SOB, I’d like to think I outwitted him on his own turf ..

More testing is required to prove anything however. I am scouring the Internet to see if there is any scientific work on the subject, that can translated from Latin into English, as I am interested on how pitch and tone might attract or repel – and whether I can manufacture something suitable to confirm any theories on this subject.

In the meantime, enjoy fiddling with these options most are available from any shops catering to lure and jig making.

I plan on using the same flies for Largemouth to see if they aid in catching fish on the muddy plumes of water that come off the points in the afternoon. Wind traditionally makes an appearance in early afternoon, and my wandering about on the bank has revealed that schools of Threadfin Shad use these plumes as cover from predators, foraging with relative impunity .. Dragging my fly out of such a plume might trigger something to dine, and I do so love to share my flies with things smaller than me…

I consider it a draw

The Striped Bass population has been elusive the last couple of years with occasional flurries of fish and much head scratching afterwards. Most of the fish caught have been small, predominantly under the legal limit, and even those are quick to vanish at the slightest opportunity.

Given the time of year and the paucity of other species available, they are a welcome quarry and an excuse to wander around the Delta hoping to be the lucky fellow whose perseverance discovers where the sumbitches are hiding …

My latest foray was inconclusive. I managed to sting one fish using an experimental “Baby Bluegill” fly versus the more gaily colored monstrosities in white, red, or chartreuse (or all the above). The more somber patterns are often overlooked and therefore underfished – and not caring whether it was eaten by the resident Largemouth, I was fiddling with “natural” baits instead of the normal fare.

BabyBass

I fished the last two hours of incoming, stuck the solitary fish – which came off promptly, and then lingered to fish the following four hours of the outgoing tide. When the wind came up I swapped the fly rod for a spinning rod and stuck three additional fish, two undersized and one keeper-sized.

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As I was freeing the larger fish from the net an awkward flop imbedded the free treble into my thumb. Normally I would have taken this personal, but under the circumstances I thought it fair. I stuck him  and took his measure – and he repaid me in like coin. Rather than howl shamefully, I removed his treble, my treble, and the net, before releasing him with a wave (and the corresponding blood spatter)..

I considered it a draw.

No Table Manners and the Appetite of a Glutton

I’ll go out on a limb and suggest our sport could use a few pedigreed opponents with both table manners and appetites of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. 

I’m thinking selfishly naturally, but think of all the knick-knacks we could remove from our vest, the words – like “gossamer” or “refined” we could purge from our vernacular, and the Jihad we could embrace as we rose to defend all the little kids and sunbathers frolicking at the beach …

I met one of those yesterday, and only managed to fight him to a draw.

Now I’m nursing the bruises and teeth marks, the line burns and the wounded pride that comes with knowing that had I hooked up with a real Striper I might have suffered the same fate as Jonah, swallowed whole by a great fish.

The tides were favorable the last couple of weeks so I tried Sherman Lake twice on Thanksgiving week. The Tuesday of that week was great weather and no fish, and the following day featured gale force winds that pushed the fly line (and sharp 2/0 hook) into the boat, while pushing me and my craft towards the rock jetty. Choosing between being skewered and a watery grave made the remaining option –  a hasty retreat back to the launch area, the only viable alternative.

Fish 1, Me Zip ..

This week promised a return to calm air and a continued spate of middling temperatures, so I returned to the waterway on Tuesday in pursuit of my first fly-caught Striper.

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I don’t know which of us was more surprised, him … as he’d swallowed a fly that was half as big as he was – or me, who was expecting a Pikeminnow or small largemouth. The sure gluttony exhibited by my new pal gave me pause, as he had swallowed a 6” White Whistler… completely. (I had to remove the fly with pliers quickly – as I feared it would be digested before I could release the little Beast.)

This encounter got me thinking of the overall sport – how the evolution of the Genteel Angler; the woodsy Plaid shirts, and Pipe smoke of the Crosby era might have fared with silvery T-Rex’s inhabiting traditional Trout turf. Would we have been so eager to wade knowing the carnivorous little beasts could knife through your Seal-Dri’s and take your leg off at the knee?

Finally, this … was an adversary worth killing.

My thirteen inch nemesis whetted my appetite for additional carnage, and I continued flinging my six inch offering at anything that looked promising.  As the tide came in I had two more brief flurries of activity, a good sized largemouth ate the fly before losing the hook, and what I assumed to be another 13” glutton slammed the fly before also coming unbuttoned.

I returned the following day to fish this same general area; the northern edge and the three islands at the entrance to the Sacramento, as well as part of the northwest shoal of tules and floating water hyacinth.

As there were a half dozen boats in the center of Sherman Lake, I assumed some fish had been caught recently – half appeared to be bait fishing and the balance were casting lures and plugs of some sort. I had a lone fly fisherman roar up to my side and we both drifted with the incoming tide towards Antioch.

I was flinging my usual fare, 2/0 White Whistler, whose hook I had touched up to razor sharpness, when I was slammed by another Striper, this one a bit bigger. As I was out of sight of most of the boats I didn’t mind the noisy complaint from my old click-pawl reel – as I knew I was out of earshot of the flotilla jockeying in the center of the waterway.

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After towing me around a bit I managed to boat the Glutton and retrieve the offending White Whistler from his maw. Apparently my comment to the smaller fish,  “…and return with your Big Brother!” had been followed to the letter – and while a 6 pounder is not a big fish, it was the prettiest thing I had seen in some time. I smuggled him off the deck and back into the water without commotion, hoping to remain unobserved.

Most of the small fleet of boats had left the center of the lake and moved either north (to the Sacramento) or south (to Big Break) and I was in sole possession of the area. I have a theory that the amount of horsepower present is indirectly proportional to attention span, and their owners tend to hop about making use of all those carbon credits – to the detriment of their fishing.

I managed to catch a largemouth and another 13 inch striper while pedaling in the area. The fact that every species will eat the same fly is a real treat.  Fly fishermen are quick to change fly if the fishing slows and it’s nice to simply face the mathematical odds of a fish being able to see your fly, and no activity means no fish, versus something more sinister like the wrong phase of insect or it’s abdominal color.

I swapped sides of the lake and fished down the rock jetty portion and landed a third Striper similar to the first.

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To say I was ecstatic is an understatement. These fish are brutal fighters capable of towing my small craft in the ensuing tussle. I am rethinking a bit of my tackle in preparation for meeting the larger fish common to the area.  Currently I am tossing an 8 weight 10’ Echo on a WF floating line, but may need to increase capacity a bit to allow for additional brutish behavior should the fish be in excess of 10 pounds.

Towed into the center channel of the Sacramento would be thrilling until the first freighter appeared …

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As I have an overabundance of Yellow NYMO thread, the Whistler’s tied above are tied with a few random changes. The classic is a white-red-white layering of the wing, but I also tie the fly with the red on top. I suppose some years I feel “extra bloody,” and some I adhere to the classic dressing.

In summary: The fish are starting to show but are not yet in great numbers. I have managed to land a Striper on a fly rod  – which was a Bucket List item, and while I’ve caught numerous Stripers on conventional tackle, am really impressed at their fighting ability on a light fly rod (and smallish fish).

Angling Conditions: Water temperature 58 degrees, ambient temperature 65 Degrees. One fish caught at low tide, one caught on incoming, one caught at full high tide.

Somewhere between a Float Tube and an Evinrude

Contrary to what you think of retirement, the reward is not being able to watch Saturday morning cartoons uninterrupted, rather it’s fishing  on weekdays while all the drunken Meatheads embody cartoons as they crowd the launch ramp on weekends.

After 30 years of toiling for CALFIRE, we parted on good terms and I took some  accumulated time on the books from pressing emergencies and late-night phone calls – and gifted myself a “Yak”, or fishing kayak,  and the ability to wield it in retirement whenever the mood suits me.

Fishing kayaks require a lot of thought and configuration to suit  fly fishermen, and I’m still learning what works and what doesn’t. How to optimize storage, how to NOT carry everything with me, how not to lose it all when I flip the boat, and more importantly – how not to leave anything on the deck without thinking about the coils of fly line underneath and how the kinetics play out when I release the cast …

Hint: Sploosh.

I’ll elaborate on my final configuration and more importantly – how to fish out of these shortly, once I’ve got enough hours to be a credible source. Fly fishermen have little experience fishing from boats that move  while casting –  and pedal powered kayaks allow both  versus having  to wield a paddle to move. Float tubes are stationary objects and prams bob contentedly in place but if your boat is moving while the cast is in the air a mess ensues as you have new things to snag with your line and new gods to invoke while swearing mightily at great puddles of fly line being run over by your boat.

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This week was the California Delta, and the pursuit of Striped Bass – which like every other gamefish I’ve targeted – gleefully thumb their nose at me despite my new “water-legs.”  While my pedal kayak and angling pastime has now been blessed as “heart healthy” by all lab coated professionals, the Striped Bass remained unimpressed and likely pirouetted around me while I pedaled around the confines of “Sherman Lake” and Sherman Island proper.

“Sherman Lake” is just a wide spot in the Delta at Sherman Island, and is a popular spot for duck hunters, striper and sturgeon fishermen (in the main channel), and hosts the occasional wind surfer or kayak angler. It is about 1.2 miles across and has five or six miles of bank ranging from rock jetties to dense Tule mats. With pedal power I can cross in about 15 minutes – but have to factor in drunken boaters, waves caused by wind or tides, and everything else that haunts a navigable body of water.

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I did find seventeen new ways to penetrate my fat frame with really large and sharp fish hooks. All wounds were aided by bead chain eyes (Whistler), lead hourglass eyes (Clouser), and anything else capable of being lashed to a fish hook and able to turn a timid false cast into a lethal weapon.  Most involved  hastily applied tourniquets and a great deal of swearing, which may be why the bird watchers gave me a wide berth.

Kayak fishing in a heavily trafficked waterway is not for the faint of heart. Boat wakes and the boating curious can send enough water in your direction to give your small craft a fit if you’re not paying attention. Stability dictates your bisecting the oncoming wake with the bow of your craft, versus getting hit broadside by the wave, and the unwary angler can be sorting a tangle of running line, or netting a fish, unaware of the new threat and a little too much lean coupled with the arrival of the swell can lead to a rollover.

… which is why everything of value has to be tethered to your craft or should float unaided. Fishing vests are no longer an option as you need to wear a life jacket, so storage of all the little things; tippet dispensers, hook hones, and fly boxes has to be rethought as well.

Petite flies and the gossamer fly rods of stream fishing are replaced by those capable of hurling an entire chicken saddle or bucktail with ample lead. Casting skills are essential as you’ve got to impart lift to a rapidly descending Clouser Minnow, a fly which shares the aerodynamic profile of a paving stone, and with only a single double haul or you’re going to wear the fly instead of the fish.  Rods and flies are heavy, and casting them all day requires minimal “air” time; one roll cast to bring them to the surface, one false cast to get them aloft, one double haul to impart momentum – then fling the accumulated mass as far from you as possible to avoid injury.

Despite all of the environmental and platform changes, all of the rod and fly differences, and despite the vagrancies of migratory fish and tides, it’s comforting to know that my ignoble pal, the Sacramento Pikeminnow, is a delta resident – and while not as showy as a Striped Bass, has also been sucked South due to all the lawn irrigation in SoCal.

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They’re quite a bit bigger and silvery versus the yellow variant in my local creek. The Good News is they retain their aggressive nature and swallow a six inch Clouser with as much gusto as smaller flies. It was a welcome grab given how much water I covered and how little I had to show for all that effort.

The first day I crossed to the West side and fished the Tule mats, with a lone Pikeminnow my only seduction. The second day I drifted the rock jetty on the East side and caught both Largemouth Bass and Pikeminnow but no Stripers. I saw a few fly fishermen in the main body but the frequency of their movement suggested their luck was identical to mine, fish scarce and Stripers scarcer.

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I’ll continue to investigate the area as the tides permit. The fish are typically here most of the Winter, but tides determine the useful fishing hours and many occur too early or too late to fish.  Most folks familiar with the area insist on fishing the incoming tide but others like any tide movement, both incoming and outgoing. This is consistent with all the Striper fishing I did in San Francisco Bay – as the fish were active on any tide so long as it was moving.

Trip Log: External temperature 70 degrees. Fished the incoming high tide until slack tide. Water temperature 58 degrees. Flies used: assorted experimental ribbon yarn streamers, Flo Green Clouser, Shad Clouser, White Whistler.