Spey Casting Magician

Every body of water has its living fishing legends. One of the Salmon River’s most famous is Pat Miura.

With good reason: Pat’s specialty is fly-fishing. And while this world famous coldwater fishery is loaded with guides who are experts at beating the wind with long rods, and bringing home trophies for their clients, most switch techniques—center-pinning beads, for instance, or back trolling plugs--in an attempt to optimize their client’s chances at catching vast quantities of game.

Pat changes techniques, too, when it’s called for, but he stays true to fly-fishing, switching from glow bugs to nymphs, for instance, traditional streamers to Spey flies. And he’s mastered them all.

What’s more, he doesn’t make glowing promises of numerous hook ups to fill his schedule. Indeed, he doesn’t make any fishy promises at all. His only guarantee is to take you on a quality fly-fishing adventure; and he’s so good at providing dream trips that his name is a legend on the river; the retired US Army master sergeant stays as busy as he wants.

I’ve known Pat for several years and enjoy watching him whenever I get the chance. His style is flawless, and he’s always catching fish. I had to find out how he does it and asked if I could tag along when he gets a break in his schedule.

Next thing you know we’re on the Salmon River and he’s trying to teach me to Spey cast. Developed in the Spey River region of Scotland, this highly stylized technique uses rods anywhere from 12-something to over 13 feet long and heavy lines to cast large flies great distances, using three simple moves. In fact, a good caster can easily whip a fly 50 feet with trees, bushes, cliffs, fjords, you name it, right behind ‘em.

It took about an hour to show me the ropes. I learned how to establish an anchor (at the end of the drift, hold the rod in both hands and cross your arms, forcing the line high into the air upstream while keeping the fly in the water downstream, a rod’s distance from you), the importance of the D loop (swinging the rod in front of you, then behind you, it forms a D loop off to your side), and the forward motion (keeping the rod tip high, you whip it forward, launching the fly to its target). Done properly, the fly slices through the air upstream, back into the loop next to you, and forward, never coming close to what’s behind you.

It takes a little practice to get everything flowing in a rhythmic motion. In fact, I’ve been out twice, about three hours each time, and still haven’t mastered it. But I can cast greater distances under the tightest conditions than I ever imagined possible. What’s more, I can do it with the line staying straight, (mostly, anyway) instead of tangling mid-air into a rooster nest and dropping like a coiled, stone serpent.

After theory, Pat showed me how it works. Waving his Spey rod fluidly and rhythmically, he went through the motions like a conductor leading a symphony. The line responded flawlessly, flowing silently through air and water, landing in front of him, about 40 feet away, with hardly a ripple.

Watching him perform his magic, I ended up forgetting my lessons. Things got ugly quick. I snagged bottom a few times; wrapped the line around the rod tip twice, hooked some submerged branches downstream, ended up under a huge boulder…

Just then something tells me to look up. I watch Pat effortlessly make another perfect cast. Holding the rod in his right hand, parallel to the water, he pinched the line between his index finger and thumb. Suddenly, the line stretches, ripping through the water, a steelhead on the surface at the other end.

Pat doesn’t set the hook; his fingers hold the line tight, allowing the fish to hook itself. Afterwards he releases the tension, raises the rod and the fight is on.

A few minutes later, he lands a nice eight-pound steelie.

“Spider,” he says, eyes beaming, “the drug is in the tug,” and laughs confidently like a master after demonstrating his stuff, and knowing he performed well.

I was so excited I forgot my manners and ran right to where he hooked it.

Ten minutes later, still no hits, I get snagged and lose the fly.

He offers to tie on another for me but it was getting late, and I was getting cold, and I already had my story.

Besides, I knew I was hooked to Spey casting and would get back out there soon to craft more memories.

Pat can be contacted at 315-788-9571, 315-777-3570, or pmiura@aol.com.

Pat working his Spey casting magic on a snowy riverscape.

Miura holding a stylized wooly bugger pattern he uses very successfully in snowtime.

Getting to the river in Pineville can be very challenging this time of year; but often well worth it.

Jacks in the Ice

Eric Arbogast with some nice Oneida Lake walleyes.

Climate change is a funny thing. The experts claim the world is warming. Oneida Lake formed safe ice a week before Christmas – two weeks earlier than normal – indicating things are cooling down. It’s enough to make you question the weather forecasting business.

One thing’s for certain, however. Today, January 5, Oneida Lake is crowned in an ice cap that’s six inches thick.

Ice fishermen and snowmobilers are all over the place. Some spots are so crowded with ice shelters they look like ice-fishing villages. And the fish are cooperating.

Also known around these parts as jack perch, they’re huge; averaging a solid 10 inches.
A lot are even bigger, up to 13 inches. They’re hanging out in about 20 feet of water and they’re taking Swedish pimples tipped with buckeyes.

Rick Sorenson of Apps Landing Bait Shop claims guys are coming back regularly with 20 to 30 perch. And he should know, located right at the entrance to the DEC’s popular Cleveland Dock fishing access site (parking for 15 cars and close proximity to the magical 20-foot depths), and offering a complete selection of ice-fishing bait and tackle, he’s got anglers coming and going constantly, giving him play-by-play reports on all the action.

On the hard water, anglers are proving how accurate Sorenson is. One pair of guys on the ice out in front of the shop had so many; from a distance it looked like they were sitting on ice carpeted in perch.

Bob Twichell of Fayetteville had about 15 on the ice, five of ‘em 13-inchers. He was using an old technique: drawing fish to his bait with a decoy. He’d bait a line with a perch eye, let it down to the bottom, crank it up a couple of inches and rest the rod on the edge of the ice. Then he’d call fish in by violently jigging a Sonar in a hole a couple feet away.

Bob Twitchell landing another perch.

His buddy Kyle Storie, scored much better using contemporary tactics. He had a fish finder in his hole, and jigged a dot tipped with a buckeye.

Kyle Storie and his carpet of jack perch.

Twichell says, “Walleyes come through all the time. But they don’t hit well until 4 or 5 p.m., when it starts getting dark.”

An old wives’ tale says early ice is the best for ice-fishing; probably because the fish haven’t had their senses overwhelmed with motorized augers, snowmobiles, cleats, you name it.

So get out there, walk quietly and pack a lot of bait. The fish you catch will make your shivering worthwhile.

Andrew Allerton with a nice catch he took on a Swedish Pimple tipped with a buckeye.

The Oswego River: Down... for Now

A friend helps Richard Hyde Jr. land his steelie as another friend looks on.

The Oswego River is finally down to size. Two factors – the sky clamming up and the Artic temperatures sweeping over the Northeast around Christmas – slowed the run-off pouring over the 5,000-something square miles of countryside that the stream drains.

Come Christmas, I was itching to wet a line in the rapids running through the Port City. I called a couple buddies and asked what they thought about the possibilities. They were enthusiastic and we agreed to meet on the water in the morning.

At 4:45 a.m., the temperature gage outside my window read 14 degrees. I was ready to cancel but figured I’d check the water level first. USGS.com measured it at 8636 cfs; very manageable for a guy with strong legs, average balance, a wading staff and Korkers. Figuring the fish would be cooperative because high water kept anglers at bay recently, I decided to give it a shot, come sub-zero weather or ice water

Two cups of coffee later, I bundled up in layers of Gore-Tex, polyester, silk and Morino wool and hit the road heading north. I got to the river at 7:30 a.m. Buddy-one, Frank Squadrito, a native of Pennelville, was already in the public lot at Lock 7, raring to go. By the time I worked into my Simms waders and Korkers, Buddy-two, Scott VanDerWater of Baldwinsville, pulled into the lot.

Everyone rigged up centerpins (I was dying to try out my new JW Young rod and reel combo) and we set out. Frank mentioned “temperature’s up a couple degrees, to a balmy 18.”

When we got to the river where the canal’s retaining wall ended, several guys were already stretched out in the spots we wanted to fish. One was even battling a steelie. Frank and Scott went upstream about 100 feet; I stayed to watch the guy land the fish.

It got off.

“Too, bad; that was a nice fish,” I remarked.

That’s the fourth one I’ve lost this morning,” he claimed.

The sun ain’t been up an hour and he’s already lost four; it promises to be a good day, I thought.

Before I could join my friends, another guy in the group, Richard Hyde, hooks a chromer. Before he can land it, his buddy Joseph Tullo nails one. Hailing from Oswego County, both these guys knew something I didn’t because they caught the last two fish I saw that day.

The Oswego River is huge and the fish move around. They swam in and out of our range before me and my buddies had a chance to get serious.

None of us was really disappointed because we knew the severe cold limited our chances of scoring. What drew us there on such a cold morning was the knowledge that if we were lucky and the sun came out, it could raise temperatures enough to trigger some furious action.

Never happened.

This weekend the bite promises to be a good one. The water will remain at fishable levels, and the weather forecast calls for temperatures reaching into the mid-40s. And if construction on the power plant’s intake channel is completed, and the stream is diverted to generate power, the water flowing over the entire ancient riverbed – from the dam to the canal wall – will be down a notch, creating an ideal steelie habitat, possibly igniting one of the most frenzied feeding binges of 2011.

Joseph Tullo gently unhooking a steelie he released.

Scott VanDerWater fishing against the Oswego River's icy backdrop.

Comparison: My JW Young centerpin combo, an example of human craftsmanship at its finest, surrounded by an icy waterscape, an example of nature at her finest.

Christmas on Ice and Holiday Rainbows

Each winter, Oneida Lake is the first in Central NY to be crowned in ice, usually in the last week of December. Still, anglers generally don’t walk out there until after the first week of January. This year, the cold came early and stayed, giving the global warming crowd a bite of humble pie; and anglers their first chance in years to spend part of Christmas ice fishing.



Indeed, guys were already drilling the ice last weekend, before winter officially started. Not massive populations, mind you, but a few brave souls, spread out, a couple here, one over there, mostly on shallow bays. If the weather holds, you’re gonna see quite a few guys ice fishing before 2010 fades into history.



When it comes to ice fishing, the rule of thumb is the best bite is first ice. As of this writing, the weatherman promises the cold will hold for the next few days, meaning ice fishing on Oneida Lake will be great during the Holidays. And I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the season than to have some golden perch or silver walleyes brightening up my day.



Most experts agree ice only has to be two inches thick to be safe for one guy--walking, sitting, doesn’t matter. However, the thickness of early ice is seldom consistent, and it’s wise to wait until it’s three inches thick. Considering ice fishing is something you want to do with a partner for safety, three inches is the minimum.



Christmas Rainbows



With all the rain we’ve had lately, the Oswego River has been too high and roily these past few weeks to fish leisurely. Oh, the fish are there all right, in massive quantities, even. But the water has been so high and cloudy, you practically had to hit ‘em over the head with the bait to get ‘em to bite. As a result, most of the action has moved to the Salmon River.



Running at about 500 cfs at press time, it’s the perfect level for man and beast.



Good buddy Scott VanDerWater claims to have landed 40 this month averaging six pounds each, by wading. He loves centerpinning for them with a JW Young Y2080 reel loaded onto a JW Young, 13-foot Specimen Float rod. A simple, single action reel with nothing but a clicker for a drag, it’s a marvel of contemporary engineering, pitting man’s intelligence and dexterity against the fish’s brute strength and instincts.



On the other hand, you have Kevin Davis, one of the best big water guides on the Great Lakes. Specializing on big water like the Oswego River, Captain Davis moved operations temporarily to the Salmon River because of the difficulty of fishing his favorite stream. Lake Ontario’s second largest tributary, its flow is swollen with the massive quantities of run-off streaming in from as far away as the Finger Lakes and Oneida Lake.



The photos illustrating this posting show the size of the fish Davis regularly finds for his clients.



By the way, a few weeks ago, Davis led a client to a 44-pound king, probably the largest to be taken in Lake Ontario in 2010.



The man can be reached at 315-342-4861. Check out his website: http://www.catchthedrift.com/.



At last word, the water conditions in the Oswego River are rapidly returning to levels steelheaders consider nirvana. I am planning my last blog of the year--sometime next week--to cover the chromer bite in the Port City.

Ups and Downs

A fine, first-snow chromer taken in the special, fly-fishing, catch-and-release section in Altmar.

Heavy rains and snows throughout Central New York have swollen the Oswego River to roughly 20,000 cfs (give or take), way beyond what your average steelheader can handle. What’s more, the water’s murky, and you practically have to hit ‘em on the head for them to hit. And that’s sad, because when its running like it is now, chromers storm into downtown Oswego like college kids hitting Florida’s beaches on spring break.



However, like the wise man once said: “Patience, grasshopper.”



The water’s gonna go down…promise. And when it does, there’s gonna be so many steelies in the bubbly, anglers’ll rename the city of Oswego Steeltown. Indeed, the river’s last stretch of rapids might even get overrun so heavy and thick with chrome, it might spur the EPA into investigating the “source of all that heavy metal …”



Oswego County didn’t earn its reputation as the fishiest spot in America because of one hot spot, though. Indeed, when the river is too fat to fish, all eyes turn to its only real competitor in the contest for title as the Lower 48’s premier fishing destination: the Salmon River.



Last week the stream was so high everyone stayed home; except the steelhead. You see, the river’s slightly warmer plume cut into Lake “O” like heat coming from a register in a cabin just opened for the winter. Its caressing currents drew every chromer within miles into its gentle, confining embrace.



With the stream running at 750 cfs, that’s just about what it is, too. In fact, this level is ideal for man and beast alike: high enough to make them feel comfortable and secure; low enough for us to wade and reach most of the good spots.



Don’t worry about all the snow socking the country either. Located on the western edge of the Tug Hill Plateau, one of the snowiest parts of the country, the folks around here take their plowing seriously and the roads are kept clear. What’s more, there’s only about a foot of powder lining the Salmon River and that’ll be packed down into a snowy trail before this posting even makes it out of my computer.



First snow on the Salmon River is squeaky clean and beautiful. The leaves have laid down for the winter, allowing you to see for great distances through the woods.



Regardless of where you go on the river you’ll be richly rewarded. On the Douglaston Salmon Run you can count on catching loads of steelies, often with deer peeking over your shoulders. The upper river’s fly-fishing only section promises loads of metal, some within sight of bald eagles foraging on salmon carcasses. And everywhere in between, you’ll breathe fresh air washed in wilderness; steeped in silence broken only occasionally by a steelhead exploding through the surface, tail-walking in its bid to get away from the hook of a dreamy-eyed angler.

Clients of Douglaston Salmon Run (a private, pay-to-fish, catch-and-release, preserve) choosing streamers.

Jason. Douglaston Salmon Run's River Keeper, releasing a fine steelhead.

Fish the Skinnies for Chromers

Skinny Creek Chromers are as big and beautiful as their big water counterparts.

This fall has seen rainfall just short of biblical proportions. So much, in fact, the Oswego River has been all but unwadeable for days on end. And right when the stream went down enough last week for guys to be able to walk across its upper rapids, we get another burst of rain, raising it to levels normally only seen in spring.



Rains that make river anglers go to bed crying, however, send creek anglers to sleep smiling. You see, when skinny creeks are swollen to the point of pouring over their banks, chromers rush into the expanding whitewater to pig out on all the trout and salmon eggs the heavy current sweeps out of the pebbles and carries downstream like a conveyor belt loading corn into a silo.



Doug at Fat Nancy’s Tackle Shop (877-801-FISH) says “the ¾-inch of rain we’ve had the last couple of days has the creeks so high, yesterday one guy complained they were unfishable. But they’re going down today, and should be at perfect levels by Friday.



Equally important is that the weather forecast calls for intermittent rain over the next couple of days, keeping the creeks at optimal levels, and steelies swarming in, all weekend long.



“What’s more,” Doug adds “this is the first week without a whole lot of people around. There’s a lot of room on the Salmon River now and that’ll keep the locals fishing there, leaving the skinny creeks short of anglers and full of fish.”



The best skinny creeks, primarily because they offer public access, are Little Sandy and Grindstone which feed “Lake O” directly, and Trout and Orwell Brooks, tributaries of the Salmon River.



Little Sandy Creek can be accessed from the DEC’s Norton Road fishing access site (off CR 15) and at the bridges in the village of Sandy Creek. Grindstone Creek can be accessed from Selkirk Beach State Park, the NY 3 bridge, and DEC access sites on CR 28. Trout brook has a fishing access site on CR 48, and Orwell Brook has a little access around its mouth.

Boundary Deer

Pulaski native, Stan Oulette, with a 10-pointer he took with a bow on the northern side of the Northern-Southern Zone line near his home.

Most deer hunters agree your best bet for bringing home the venison is on opening day.



But which opening day? The northern or southern zone’s; bowhunting’s, or the regular season’s. And if you really want to split hairs, maybe it’s Suffolk County on Long Island which has its own opening day.



After a moment’s thought, a reasonable guy would conclude that most deer are taken on opening day of the southern zone’s regular season. Mainly because it covers the biggest part of the state, and almost all of NY’s primo agricultural land, the most productive deer range.



Still, there’s one small part of the southern zone that’s far more productive on opening day: the edge where the two zones meet. You see, the first shots fired on the northern edge of the boundary send surviving deer over the border. And they stay there, in massive numbers, for as long as they’re not being shot at. Come November 20th, the boys and girls who hunt the southern edge of the boundary will have more than their fair share of deer to chose from--for a day, anyway.



Oswego County is one of the few in the state that boasts both zones, and the line splits us almost in half. What’s more, our portion of the southern zone includes the Lake Ontario plains, an area known for massive quantities of above average size deer.



And this year’s crop promises to be one of the best in recent memory. Stan Oullette, a Pulaski native known for his excellent hunting skills claims “this year’s rut is one of the best I’ve ever seen, and we have some huge bucks running around.”



To prove his point, Stan showed me a 10-point buck he took the second week of November with his bow just north of the Salmon River, on land he manages strictly for trophy deer.



After taking my fill of photos, I complimented him on his prize. He looked me in the eye and said, without flinching, “Spider, I’ve seen two deer this year that would make this one look like a spike horn.”



Taken aback by his comment, the seriousness of his tone, I blurted out “You mean you got atypicals running around your preserve that have single horns poking out of their heads like Medusa’s snakes?”



“No, you…” (I can’t finish the sentence in a family oriented blog),” he replied. “This year we got bucks with horns as big around as my wrist!”



That’s saying something. Stan, a former Marine who spent half his life running heavy construction equipment, is built like a bear. A deer with horns that big is definitely a wall-hanger. Two in the same neighborhood prove how marvelously deer-friendly our range is.



All of Oswego County’s southern zone is in private hands. You have two options. Knock on a farmer’s door and ask if you can hunt his property--the most he can say is no, but he might say yes. Or you can hunt on private property for a fee; two that come to mind are K&G Resort Inc., and Deer Creek Motel and Pheasant Shooting Preserve (315-298-3730).