White River Open

Saturday was the inaugural White River Open Fly Fishing Tournament.  It was modeled after the Otter Creek Classic, a tournament I've fished the past two opening days.  Now, first and foremost, I'm not really into the concept of competitive fishing.  I enjoy fly fishing.  I enjoy being around other fishermen.  I enjoy the fish stories.  And, the revenue from the tournaments goes to local organizations that use the money to improve trout habitat.  The beneficiary this past weekend was the local chapter of Trout Unlimited, of which I'm a member.  But, trying to catch more fish than someone else is not why I fish.  I fish to enjoy the time on the water, the time in nature, and I fish to relax.  Competing is the opposite of relaxing.

Friday night, I showed up to register and paid my $20.  Pretty cheap compared to the Otter Creek event.  There ended up being about 55 participants, including two under 18.  At registration, there was a casting contest.  I struggle enough on the creek, and I certainly didn't want to embarrass myself in front of a bunch of serious fly fishermen, so I passed.  The competition was won by a local guide, Matt Stedina.

I headed home after the meeting for a quick dinner and an early bedtime.  I wanted to be one the water by first light.  The alarm went off at 3:30.  I hit the snooze button one time, then another, and then another.  But, I was up before 4:00.  I got dressed quickly, grabbed some coffee and hit the road.  The car had been packed the night before.

By 4:45, I was parking at my favorite spot on the White, and I was happy that there were no other cars.  Regretfully, this spot remains difficult to fish.  High water over the winter re-configured the access point to this stretch of water, and I've been unable to find a way to wade safely to the stretch of water I want to fish.  Basically, there is an island in the river and my plan is to fish on one side of the island.  Parking is easy on that side of the island, but wading is dangerous.  Twice last year, I fell in the river while trying to access the site.  I then found that I could park on the other side of the river and wade safely and easily across the back side of the stream to the island to access the fishing.  But, over the winter, a new deep spot was carved out at the bottom of the island.  And, a rock "island" that facilitated wading above the island is gone.  Essentially, there is no safe way to this spot at the moment.  Maybe this will change when water levels drop.  Maybe I'll use my canoe next time, but they were prohibited for this event.

I fished a few holes on the back side of the island, searched for ways across, and finally bailed.  I arrived back at my car at 5:20 to find a state police cruiser parked behind me.  The crazy, busybody lady who lives across the street and seems to stalk me every time I park here, had called the police and told them someone was parked in the middle of the road, had their dome lights on, and they were clearly up to no good, likely coming for her.  I was infuriated by the police response.  They called my wife at 5:15 to ask why our car was there.  She explained that I was fishing.  They then interrogated me and suggested I talk to the woman across the street.  It's not even her property.  They checked my ID.  And, when I left, the cruiser followed me for 15 miles as I headed to my next destination.  I'd done absolutely nothing wrong, yet I was the one under suspicion.  Apparently, fishing early in the morning is a subversive activity.

Back to fishing.  I headed way upstream on the White, above the town of Stockbridge.  I went to a spot where I'd caught 31 fish in one day recently.  I'd never been skunked there.  But, three hours later, I hadn't had a strike and I had to admit defeat.  I was shocked to not even have one strike in three hours of hard, methodical fishing.  My next destination was already being fished, so I went to a fallback location that gets a lot of pressure.  In 2 hours there, I got one strike, but I landed that fish (first fish of the day at 10:00 despite a 4:45 start).  I wouldn't be skunked, at least.  The fish was a typical stocked rainbow in VT - 10.5".

I fished there until 11:30 and then headed for a new spot.  I stopped for some food on the way, and then went to the northern edge of Royalton.  I asked a landowner for permission to park and access the river.  I was excited to see no other cars, thinking I'd have this excellent stretch of water to myself.  However, as soon as I got to the river, I saw a fisherman where I wanted to be.  So, I headed upstream rather than down.  I managed one stocked rainbow (same size) in an unlikely hole, but that was the end.  I waded downstream and talked to the other fisherman, a local guide.  He caught a wild brookie (rare in that stretch of river) while I was there, and it was his 7th or 8th fish.  He was using a sinking tip leader.  Out of respect for him being there first, I headed back to my car.  I still had one spot to try that has been kind to me in the past.

I got to the final spot in the town of Sharon, and re-rigged my Hardy 4 wt. with a sinking leader and a dual flies - a Psycho Prince Nymph up top and a Pheasant Tail on the bottom.  Both of my earlier fish had come on PTs.  Here, despite the sun and warm afternoon temps, things started to happen.  I was getting strikes.  Catching fish.  I had one wild rainbow throw the fly in the air.  I had a stocked fish snap me off on the PT.  I think my fluoro tippet was dinged up because it snapped above the knot.  I need to check that material more often to look for damage.  I hooked six fish between 1:30 and 3:00 and got a few of them to the net.  At 3:00, I quit fishing to return to headquarters to turn in my sheet - 5 rainbows totaling 50.5" of fish.

I heard about 1/3 of the field got skunked.  But, the guide who won the casting competition caught 386" of fish, fishing very close to where I'd been skunked for over 3 hours early in the day.  Clearly it was me and not the fish.  A few other people had 10-15 fish, including the amateur division winner who had 156 inches of fish.  I was about mid-pack with my 5 fish.  If I'd figured things out earlier, I might have been in the running for the amateur division, but it took too long to dial in leaders, flies and location.  Next time...

Sunday evening, I snuck out for an hour or so, trying to see if I could pull some browns to the surface.  My first destination is a stretch I hadn't fished since Hurricane Irene.  The stream really wasn't there any more.  Apparently, it was re-routed during the hurricane.  What remained was standing water and mud and a bog.

I decided to switch to Ayers Brook for a bit.   There was a small Quill Gordon hatch going on, so I put on a size 14 Quill Gordon, trying to lure some fish to the surface.  I had no luck at all.  The highlight was a close encounter with a beaver.

With rain in the forecast this week, streams may still be running high next weekend.  But, with warm temperatures expected, the water temps should rise as well.  I doubt that I'll get out again before Saturday morning.