9/10 - 9/11 "Late Season Carping...Topwater Action"

School Buses , Football Sunday and cool crisp mornings...all signs that Summer is on it's way out and Fall is here to take it's place. After the long hot summer we've endured in my part of the country I don't imagine you'll hear too many complaints either. While I'm certainly looking forward to the cooler weather and diminished crowds that fall/winter bring I have to admit that the exit of summer is a little bittersweet this year. On my home waters winter means lakes and rivers that are more suited to ice skating than fly fishing which also means my recently acquired love affair with Cyprinus will be put on hold until next year. What started as a means to pass the time when I couldn't make it South to fish my favorite coldwater haunts turned into a full fledged obsession with ole bugle-mouth. It had been a couple weeks since I'd stalked the flats of my local mudhole and I knew the cool nights recently would've lowered the surface temp of the water pretty drastically so I wasn't sure what to expect to be honest. Saturday morning I got a call from my wife who was on a weekend trip to Melvern with her horse for some trail riding , she had forgotten a bag with several items that she needed and I was being designated as courier for said objects. I had planned on hitting Hillsdale for the day but since I was making the trip anyway I decided to spend a couple extra hours at Melvern and walk some shoreline there looking for carp. By the time I dropped off the forgotten bag and made it over to Eisenhower State Park where I intended to fish it was right around noon. I rigged up quickly and Joe and I hit the water in search of our quarry for the day.

It was a beautiful day and conditions were about as good as you can ask for , unfortunately I just couldn't find any cooperative fish. The water here was clearer than I was used to and the few fish I saw were ultra shallow and were just sunning themselves as opposed to tailing. I made casts to a couple fish but just ended up spooking them in the end and finished the afternoon with no hook-ups.

For about the last fourty-five minutes I switched tactics and started casting some structure for anything that might eat. This proved fruitless as well and one short smallmouth was all I could raise.

So it goes , that's why they call it fishing right??
After a short stop at a small town tavern made somewhat famous for their smoked ribs , we pulled back into Olathe at around 4:00.


With a full stomach and renewed enthusiasm to catch a fish or two we headed out to a local pond after a quick stop off at home.


Nobody else was there and the water looked promising , I'd made a few casts and Joe was enjoying chasing frogs in the weeds when without warning the skies began to darken. Within minutes the wind began to pick up and large raindrops fell from the heavens , I looked at Joe and he said it was time to head for the car.

Sometimes the dog has more sense than the owner , so we called it a day. An unsuccessful fishing day yes, but I enjoyed every fishless minute spent with my best buddy wandering along the lakeshore. It's amazing how the company of a good friend, dog or man, can overshadow a poor fishing day.
Sunday I had a list of things to do , like firing up the smoker for the afternoon and watching a little football. Sometime around mid-morning I realized that the nagging thought in the back of my mind wasn't going anywhere unless I acted on it. I had to get back out and give ole cyprinus another shot. Ten minutes later Joe and I were headed down to one of our favorite mudflats to see what kind of action we could drum up. Upon arrival the water looked good , calm and just clear enough to make the fish visible to the patient eye.

A quick pass through my first spot proved fruitless , only seeing one drum lazily sunning on the rocks. The next spot proved no better and I was starting to think it just wasn't gonna happen , that I might as well just head back to watch the game. About that time I noticed some action on the surface about 30 yards away in a small shallow cove. Thinking it was probably some smalll bass chasing shad I figured why not check it out while I'm here. When I got close enough to identify the fish I was surprised to find four small carp swimming along the surface slurping something. Of course I got excited at this discovery and backed up to make a plan of action. For the life of me I couldn't see anything on the water that the fish were eating , but they were staying with it in that one area just going around and around, those big lips halfway out of the water. The only thing I could come up with was a cottonwood seed fly I had tied when I first started fishing for carp , probably never thinking I'd actually use it.

Fly on and back within casting distance I could still see the same fish sucking an invisible something off the surface so I made a cast and placed the fly out in front of the roaming fish. The white marabou tuft floated high on the water and as I watched it drift along I had to think it looked like nothing a carp would eat. Ten seconds later I was watching my first topwater carp swim up and suck in my fly.

This fish was small but when he felt that hook he freaked and headed for the hills , I was totally stoked to have my first carp on a dry fly (does a cottonwood seed fly count as a dry??). One of the best battles I've had all year , the cooler water obviously equating to stronger fish.

On a chance I decided to let the spot rest for a while and see if the other fish would come back. Sure enough within twenty minutes there were two more fish back on the surface and once again the cottonwood seed proved it's worth.


Another small fish but man , carp on a dry fly!! Another half hour provided no other shots at fish but I happily headed for home still riding high on the thought of catching two carp on dries. Maybe it'd be allright if summer held on for just a little bit longer , I'm not quite ready to say good-bye.

8/26 - 8/30 Iowa Driftless Region "Backroads and Bluelines"

Thursday had to be one of the longest days ever for me...the truck was loaded , Kevin was set to meet me after work and as if that wasn't enough a stack of mapquest directions lay atop my desk as a reminder of the upcoming journey. To say my mind wasn't on work this day would be simply stating the obvious. Somehow I managed to endure and with a little prodding I was headed out the door at four o'clock (two hours early) , hell it's not like I was being even remotely productive anyway. Kevin was sitting in the driveway when I pulled up , his gear piled high and waiting to fill what little remaining space was available in the truck. After a small setback , changing a tire in the drive , we were finally ready to hit the road and get this trip started. I'm not sure who was more anxious...me to get back up to Iowa and see if it was as good as I remembered or Kevin to see some new water for the first time. Honestly we were both as excited as a couple schoolgirls getting ready for their first prom , it's a wonder we got away without forgetting something important in our haste but somehow we did. The drive was uneventful , which is always a good thing , and we pulled into the campground in Highlandville sometime around 1:00 am. It had been a long day for both of us but once we arrived the excitement of finally being there kicked in and immediate sleep was out of the question. We decided to pop the tops on a couple cold ones and set up camp as best we could using the truck headlights for illumination. Once the tents were up we pulled out a couple chairs and sat streamside , listening to the gurgling waters running past our campsite while we discussed the next days plan....it's times like this that a guy can't help but think to himself "life is good...very good!"

The next morning we were up and around at about 6:00 , anxious to get our first real glimpse of the waters that had been filling our dreams for the last few weeks , sleep is highly overrated anyway! With a stream not ten steps away from the front door of our tents it was an obvious choice where to start the day. I don't think it had been five minutes before I saw Kevin hooking up with his first Iowa trout and not long after that his second fish came to hand , not a bad way to start off the trip. After landing a few fish each we took a break to get officially checked into our campsite and finish setting up.

The good folks at the Highlandville Store and Campground were very accomodating and made our five night stay quite enjoyable. Campgrounds with facilities are few and far between in this part of Iowa. Primitive camping is allowed around most streams but be warned that they do mean primitive , as in NO facilities at all. Definitely a far cry from Missouri where primitive camping just means you have to walk an extra 40 yards down a paved walkway to the showerhouse and bathroom. Don't get me wrong , I'm not complaining about this lack of modern campgrounds as it's undoubtedly what keeps the number of fishermen so low in the area. I mean really...how can a guy be expected to enjoy his camping experience without being able to pull the 40 foot motorhome up on a concrete pad and hook up the satellite dish? In all seriousness though , it was a nice campground with full facilities and a well stocked small mercantile store right onsite for things like ice ,charcoal or that twelve pack you need the last night of the trip because the beer coolers run dry. The atmosphere of the campground was almost like a small community , with many of the peole being retirees who spend several weeks at a time there multiple times throughout the year. Being the only store around, you could meet half the towns population in there each morning sitting around a small table having their coffee and discussing the previous days events. I have to admit it was a welcome change from some of the large campgrounds and rowdy crowds you encounter at many Missouri parks.
If you've never been to the area before the first thing you realize is that there's way more quality water than you're gonna be able to fish during your stay , and this rings true no matter how long you plan on being there. Between the state owned land and the stream easements allowed by private landowners the amount of fisheable water is simply staggering.

For someone like myself who's always wondering what's around the next bend in the river it can lead to some serious hikes. Luckily for me Kevin's the kind of fisherman who can be content sitting in one spot and figuring out the fish as opposed to looking for greener pastures so to say.

If he wasn't we might still be on the upper Waterloo , probably across the Minnesota border by now , still searching for fish around that next corner!
We spent four full days on the streams in the area , fishing the Waterloo..North Bear..South Bear..South Pine and French Creeks. The waters were extremely varied , we fished all types from fast running streams to large pools backed up by beaver dams. All of these streams have different trout species in them to target which keeps things interesting. You can choose between wild browns , wild brookies or stocked rainbows and brookies and a couple places have a mixture of the above fish. For me the real draw are the wild browns that inhabit most creeks in the area , you'd be hard pressed to find a prettier fish anywhere in my eyes.


We managed to sample all the state has to offer , catching both wild browns and brook trout as well as stocked bows and brookies in the stream next to camp.

If the size of a fish is your only measurement of how good a trip was then this region might not be the place for you. It's not that there aren't large fish around ,there are , but the waters are mostly small which dictates the size of the fish to a certain extent. The fact that these are native streambred fish living in a beautiful setting trumps size for me. I've caught my share of big tailwater browns on the White river system and loved catching every one of em, but I'm at a point in my fishing where I'd take a day of catching small wild browns on a pristine stream over trophy browns on a crowded tailwater any day of the week.

Needless to say this is my kind of place and I can't wait to make it back. Before the weekend was over we'd traveled countless miles of gravel roads and hiked numerous sections of streams in search of wild trout and been very successful in doing so. Add to that mix some good eats , copious amounts of cold beer and a good friend to share the whole experience with and you end up with one hell of a time.

I could go on and on about the beautiful fish and scenic countryside dotted with classic spring creeks but as they say.."A pictures worth a thousand words" , and when you write like I do that may be an understatement. I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story , I think they do a better job of it than I ever could.....hope you enjoy.