Cascade Creek Carp

I'm down in Wendy Berrell's neck of the woods for the next couple of weeks, poaching on his territory. After satisfying my duties of employment for the day, I grabbed some BBQ and headed down to the Zumbro to do some scouting for my outing with WB on Wednesday evening. I parked, rigged up my six weight and headed down for the South Fork. There was an Orvis boy down in there river, fishing for what I can only imagine are smallmouth bass. I didn't see him set the hook on anything.

I decided to hit the bike path and walk the river, looking for active feeders. Strangely enough, I met a fellow angler from Detroit Lakes, who was in town for bone marrow donation. Small world. We exchanged a few words and tactics and went our separate ways, he with his can of corn and me with my San Juan Carp Assassin.

I headed up to Cascade Creek and noticed a small low head dam. Figuring there had to be fish in there, I perched up atop the bank and looked for fish. I didn't notice anything, but I crept down the bank anyway. When I got my fly ready to cast, I noticed a bunch of shorthead redhorse and a carp make it over my way. I dropped my SJW in the water and the fish swam by ignoring it. I switched out the SJW for my golden ghost soft hackled wet fly. I waited for a fish to swim near enough for me to reach it by dapping. A pod of about five carp swam near. I lowered my fly in to the water, just in front of two fish that were swimming neck and neck. I lost visibility of my fly as it drifted near the grass on the bank. Figuring it was now or never, I pulled on my line and set the hook.

I guessed right, because a fish pulled back. Right near where I was fishing was a big snag of branches and a bunch of jagged limestone. It was my mission to keep the fish out of this mess. Initially I don't think the fish realized it was hooked as I was able to play it near shore with ease. Once I tried to land it though, it made a run for the channel and never looked back. This wasn't the largest fish by any means, and probably fared more on the small side of things, but this fish was determined not to be played out. I fought this fish for 10 minutes before realizing I was going to have to change tactics in order to land it.

I walked down the shoreline hoping to beach it on the rocks. This only made the fish run up the pool a bit and take more line. I eventually worked the fish back to where I had hooked it downstream, sweat pouring down my face. My T-shirt was soaked. It was a typical July day in Southeast MN, hot and muggy with a chance for thunderstorms. I looked back at the pedestrian bridge, wiped the sweat from my brow, and noticed a crowd of on-lookers watching me fight this fish. I figured after watching me fight for 20 minutes, I probably shouldn't lose this fish. I ran up up the bank, keeping tension on my line, and grabbed my lippa out of my chest pack. I made it back down the bank and got aggressive on this fish. I played it over the edge of the dam and into the spillway below. I played the fish up the concrete slope and tried to grab its lip without slipping on the mossy surface. Easier said then done. After some wrestling, I finally got a hold of the fish and made it up the bank.

The crowd was cheering, possibly even more impressed than I was with the catch. They thought it was the catch of a lifetime. It was just another day in the life of a roughfisherman. Another onlooker noticed I was grabbing a photo of the fish before I released it, and offered to take one of me and the fish.

I was exhausted and sweaty, but there were still a few hours of daylight left. The fish were played out in this section, so I tried a few different areas. I found another low head dam upstream and spotted a carp in the plunge pool. I got my fly in the water and immediately hooked up. Black Bullhead.

I sat there for another 15-20 minutes and caught another bullhead. I didn't spot the carp again. Figuring I had already fared better than I expected, I walked the trail back to the vehicle and headed back to the hotel.

It's always a good day when you can bring a carp on the fly to hand. I hope Wendy's ready to catch some fish.

San Juan Worms - Reprise

Frankly, more discussion regarding roughfish fly patterns and fly tying techniques is obligatory, especially in light of the recent interest in creating a more durable San Juan Worm pattern. John Montana sparked the conversation by creating a SJW worm thread on the Carp Anglers Group fly fishing forum. He and I must be on the same wavelength right now, because earlier this afternoon I sat down at the vise, a rarity at this time of year, and whipped up a few new variations on the SJW pattern.

I started with the basic SJW pattern. I opted for the microchenille and threaded a piece through a bead and onto a size 8 Tiemco 2457 scud hook. Here's where it gets interesting. I tied on a red wire body, the length of the hook shank. I tied in the chenille at the rear of the hook, whip finished, and tied off. I put head cement on the thread wraps and coated the entire wire body. This fly should now be as tough as an armored car.


I realize it might not matter to the fish, but I still burnt the tips of the chenille. Fly tying can be a selfish hobby, as sometimes the tyer ties flies for his or her own sense of satisfaction, and not necessarily to increase its effectiveness. Besides it only takes me a few seconds.

I adapted adding the wire body to the lethal San Juan Carp Killer pattern. I think it turned out fabulous. I now dub thee the San Juan Carp Assassin.


I'm going to play with more pattern variations this evening. I'll try tying the patterns with the wire body wrapped over the chenille. Hopefully a few more folks will call in to John Montana's challenge and provide us all with some good ideas. The roughest part will be having to field test these patterns.

Roughfishing. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

Part II

Friday morning was the best fly fishing outing for carp yet this season. There were good numbers of fish and they were willing to take flies. Life was good. Here's the rest of the story:

The group of fisherman that were previously in the spot I had wanted to fish finally left. Even though the action was good where I was, I headed over the spot to try my luck. I saw the shadows of buffalo herds roaming the area. I typically see buffalo here frequently, but can rarely get them to bite. Now would be no exception. Flies weren't working well on this stretch of water so I grabbed my spinning rod and bottom bounced a crawler cross-current. I quickly got a strike and landed a spunky little goldeye.


Oddly enough this spot that has produced so well for me earlier in the season has slowed down quite a bit. I caught a few more goldeyes and a couple of channel cats. I had to work for those fish. Wanting a bit more excitement, I moved back over to the other side. Those fish have had enough rest.

I got the San Juan Worm out again and proceeded to catch carp after carp. I even managed to catch the same fish twice. After I shredded the fly I had tied on, I grabbed the spinning rod to see what they'd do with a crawler. Maybe I could get another buffalo to take it. Nope. But I did manage to catch a few more nice carp before the masses came.


I don't know what the deal is with anglers these days, but it seems like too many of them have no about qualms moving in and fishing right under your nose. They show no fear. A group of guys came over and literally settled in right where I was fishing. One of them made a comment, while I was releasing a carp, that if there's white on the fin, then it's a walleye. OK, thanks there Sherlock. This guy's a freaking genius. He even had the nerve to ask if I was fishing for walleye. If he had paid any attention to the last half hour before butting in right in front of me, he would have noticed I was fishing for and catching carp. NOT walleye. When I told him, "No I'm not fishing for walleye", he turned to his son in astonishment and said in bewilderment, "He's not fishing for walleye!?" I packed up my shit and left. Enough of that BS.

I moved over to the backwaters. It was already getting late and I only had about an hour left to fish before having to head home. I still had the mission of trying to sight-fish for one of these slough-bound fish. I wasted my time fishing a section only to catch a half dozen bullheads. I've never caught a carp there, even though there were fishing tearing it up all over the place in here. Don't know what I'm doing wrong here. I can catch fish in the identical stretch of water on the other side of the road.

I moved over to the road culvert. Last time I was down here, Derek, the Esoxer, caught a few bass hanging downstream of the culvert. I found a few carp feeding near the surface and walked back to the truck to grab my fly rod. I tied on the venerable San Juan Worm and began nymphing. I had a few hookups, a couple of snags/scales, and hooked a few branches. My fly kept getting caught in the tall prairie grass on my back cast. This was a pain in the ass. I lost a fly in the grass and tied on my last SJW. Still snagging and losing fish. Finally lost my fly in the minefield of twigs and branches that surrounded the culvert outlet. Dejected, I moved on with the intent to return next time and avenge the loss of my flies and patience.

I trekked down through the brush, tall grass, and cut trees to the slough on the other side of the road. The water looked tepid and stagnant. No signs of fish actively feeding. I casted to the middle of the bay and waited. I was getting eaten alive by those pesky mosquitoes. I didn't realize that I had volunteered to donate plasma today. I now had ten minutes left before having to leave. I had hoped to catch a fish before leaving, but to be frank, it wasn't looking good. My line twitched a few times and it was likely due to black bullheads. I swatted mosquitoes, gnats, deer flies, black flies, and no see-ums for those entire ten minutes until my line finally moved again. Figuring it was another bullhead, I half-heartedly set the hook only to realize that it was a carp. Not wanting to donate any more blood, I quickly played the fish, took a quick photo, and released it.



That was good enough. I headed back to the truck and packed up for home. My afternoon had not gone quite as good as the morning, but I still managed to catch a bunch of fish. The weather was great, and I'm sure that if I would have dug out the bug spray, the mosquitoes wouldn't have bothered me so much. It was nice to be able to sight-fish for those carp in the river. It's not something that's able to be done most days on this turbid river.

My quest to catch a carp on the fly in the silt choked backwaters was once again busted. I came about as close as I ever have fishing near the culvert. I'll have to re-supply my arsenal of San Juan Worms, including stocking some San Juan Carp Killers. The case is not closed on this mission. A new sense of vigor and hope, and perhaps a bit of luck, will hopefully allow me to finally execute this task this season. Mission Impossible.

Tight Lines.

San Juan Worms - revisited

Thanks for the comments on tying the San Juan Worm JB and JW. I tie my SJWs the same way as John Montana, with the chenille through the bead, and the bead slipped on to the hook shank. I even use head cement on the thread wraps. Nonetheless, my flies got abused yesterday; those fish were just way too hard on them. Like John mentioned, after a couple fish the whip finish would start to give way. Also, the chenille starts to come off of the cord. Most of the time it seems, that the glass bead on the hook shatters, leaving just the chenille behind. I need to find some plastic beads or use a beadhead instead.

I typically tie my SJWs unweighted. Depending on if fish are rising to the surface or not, I can adjust the weight with a split shot to get it down to tailers, or let the fly hang weightless if they are up near the surface or are clooping. I encountered both scenarios yesterday afternoon in the same area of water, both at the same time.

I like the San Juan Carp Killer pattern that my friend Marc shared with me. The marabou tail on this pattern is deadly; it has a good profile and movement in the water, and acts just like a fish magnet.


The beads on the hook shank provide a rattle effect. I don't know if the beads really move around on the hook shank that much underwater, so I may try tying this pattern with the chenille through the beads.

I know that the wooly bugger is considered by many to be the granddaddy of all-around, go-to flies. You can pretty much tie one on in any situation, in any color, and flat out catch fish. I believe that the San Juan Worm is quickly becoming the go-to fly for carp fishing. I don't know what specifically triggers the predatory response in fish to take this fly, but it works. It works so well in fact, that I would recommend to anyone just getting in to carp fishing, to invest in a box full of SJWs, all in different colors. This is also an extremely quick, cheap, and easy fly pattern to tie, especially for the novice tyer. This should be the first fly you should tie on when searching the water for fish.

It's a carp killer.

Part I

The carp were bumping today. They were taking flies like nobodies business.

I hit the Otter Tail today. You couldn't have asked for better weather. Seventy degrees, no humidity, calm wind, sunshine, perfect. Flows were still high downstream of Orwell at 964 cfs, well above the 80th percentile. When I arrived at the river, a car had just pulled in ahead of me. Low and behold, they headed right to the spot I wanted to fish. Nobody else on the entire stretch of river and they go to the one spot I wanted to fish, the good roughfish holding water. I regrouped and tied on a blue and white clouser figuring I would fish for smallies until the group left the spot I wanted to fish.

I made my way upstream and checked out an area that might have potential for roughfish. When I got down to the bank I noticed a ton of carp stacked up near shore. Bingo! I quickly cut off my clouser and opened up one of my bugger barns looking for something juicy to tie on. Thinking back on John Montana's recent carp slaying adventure, I had San Juan Worm on my mind. I dug around my flybox and found my last San Juan Carp Killer. I tied on the fly and a pinch of shot to get the fly down and dropped the fly in the water. Right off the bat a bluegill attacked my fly. Not exactly what I was hoping for; I quickly pulled the hook out of the fish's mouth hoping not to spook all the carp in the area.

I found an active feeder and presented my fly: a couple of missed takes. Damn. I blind nymphed the current seam along the near bank while I looked for more feeders. I check-set my line and felt resistance; fish on! I quickly walked down stream along the bank as to not scare the fish upstream. I played the fish to the surface and found that a nice carp had taken my fly. After five minutes, I finally tired the fish enough to land it on shore.


After releasing the fish, I walked back upstream and found some tailers. I dropped my fly down a few inches in front a carp and watched its tail. A quick change in direction and I knew it was on. I set the hook. Round two.


After I'd catch a fish, most of the surface feeders would scatter and go deep. I'd be able to catch a bunch of those bottom feeders blind nymphing. I'd try and work a different section of water until fish would start becoming visible again on the other stretch. These fish were fairly aggressive. I would drop the fly to the bottom, and slowly lift it up to the surface. The fish would turn and change direction to take the San Juan Worm, even following it to the surface. The best take of the day was nymphing to a tailing fish. I dropped the fly in front of its mouth and lifted the fly. I watched the fly turn its head up, open its mouth and flare its gills. I pulled my rod back and played a little game of tug o' war.


All morning long, I watched pods of buffalo cruise by. I nymphed all I could to try and get one to take my fly to no avail. I had a few false hookups, probably snags, and likely a few takes from some carp as well. Carp on the fly are great fun and all, but buffalo on the fly, well that's just divine. My luck finally turned when I spotted a dark profile swim upstream along the current seam. I dropped my fly in front of the fish, counted to three and watched for a head turn. The silhouette faded and disappeared. I thought I saw it move off to the side. I set the hook just to be sure, and was justly rewarded.


Man I love buffalo.

I proceeded to catch more carp throughout the morning, I lost count of how many. What I do know is that I easily burned through a half-dozen SJWs and I need to tie more before my next outing. I wish these flies were just a bit more durable. About three or four fish is all my ties can take. Maybe I'm doing it wrong, but those fish really do take that fly hard. Look at this poor battered fly. Literally, hanging on by its last thread.

Second half to come.