Here’s to the beautiful simplicity of popper fishing. Cast it into some vegetation, pop, stop, pop….what’s more visually gratifying then watching a bass connect? Not much.
Posts tagged “dirty canals are beautiful”
*[Matt, since I missed grabbing a beer with you in NYC, I figured the least I could do is catch some fish on your flies.]
I loved the article in the Wall Street Journal about brownlining, and was glad to see props go out to Fat Guy, Gracie, JP, et al, and for the esteemed Mr. Chandler and Mr. Barton getting credit for coining a new name for a fly fishing genre. But the article stopped a little short. Before brownlining there was ditch fishing. The concept of casting flies in less than pristine settings goes back decades. In Florida, many well known fly fishing luminaries and pioneers cut their teeth fishing the Everglades and the vast network of man-made backwater canals that carve up the southern tier of the state. It is well documented that anglers such as Flip Pallot, Chico Fernandez, and Norman Duncan–who invented the Duncan…
And not the german trouty kind, either. Roughfisher weighs in on fly fishing’s real frontier, where all the so-called trash fish become the treasure.
It’s a driving game. The suburban sprawl is such in Southeast Florida that it extends all the way out to the berm of the Everglades. Spliced through it all is an intricate maze of manmade lakes and ponds and freshwater ditches plugged into the main engineered drainage canal system. The entire system is rife with species that aren’t supposed to be there based on the natural order of things. Which is kind of fitting for a manufactured ecosystem gone awry. Peacocks, though, were introduced on purpose. Mostly to combat the proliferation of unwanted fishtank pets dumped into the system. They have thrived. I started fly fishing for peacocks 10 years ago almost by accident. My buddy ZB’s Dad had a place out west where …
I’m about to go striper fishing tonight in a cold November rain (no Axl ripoff intended) and thinking back on how enjoyable it was to sweat out the minerals just standing around doing nothing, then seeing this rooster, making a cast, and watching it destroy my fly and make hay into a drainage pipe, forcing me to flop on the ground with my rod completely underwater and hoping I didn’t lay on top of a fire ant nest or within five feet of a cottonmouth (water moccasin). Man I miss that.
A cold front and a surprising dearth of fishing time made it tough going on the ditch fishing, but it’s still worth getting a look at even one peacock bass. A rental car and a five-weight are all you need to gain access.
