Carp fishing

I'll never get used to it. You talk to almost any group of fisher folk and mention Carp. Somebody invariably insults the Carp as a "trash fish", worthy only of tossing back into the water or worse, thrown alive onto the bank to suffocate. NO fish should be treated that way. If you're going to kill it, then do so. If not, then put it back in the water. It's only humane.

Admittedly Carp do overpopulate many waters due to their incredible propagative ability. Then they need to be thinned out, but still humanely. The thing that irritates me about the complete lack of respect shown these fish is that they are tremendous fun to catch!

Hooking up with a ten pound Carp, which is likely almost anywhere they can be found, is hooking up with a ten pound fish! They fight like your big brother whoopin' on you for taking the last cookie, and pound for pound their stamina is a match for any other freshwater fish.

You can't always just throw bait at them either, especially as they grow older. Carp are totally aware of their environment and that usually includes you. The best Carp anglers in the world, generally speaking, can be found in Great Britain. These folks have honed their skills fishing along some of the world's most crowded banks, refining and refining again their approach to a fish which can pick up and drop a bait without you even knowing they've seen it.

Some anglers call the Carp the "Golden Bonefish" because in their feeding habits, skittishness and near invulnerability to the hook in clear water. The name fits. I am certain that you've seen more wakes suddenly headed away from you than you've seen the actual Carp in the your area, and in clear water, you may not have seen them at all.

My 2 favorite Carp memories both took place on, believe it or not, trout streams! Yup, Carp make a way.

The first one was on one of the best trout streams in the northeast. I was fly fishing at a dam on the stream, drifting a small nymph through the pockets in the dam formed by rocks splitting the overflow as it tumbled over it's 3 foot drop in front of me. It was a comfortable spring day and I'd been catching fish pretty regularly. I was drifting it deep after seeing a few large shadows which I took to be smallmouth, when my line tightened slowly. I set the hook, and within 20 seconds I got that cold feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells you something bad is about to happen.

My line had followed the plunge pool of the waterfall from one side to the other, without slowing in the least. The cold feeling set in. Then, when my line turned East and started downstream toward the rapids area, my gut started to quake a little. I'm gonna be real honest here, more honest than a fisherman should. I had two thoughts making me nervous. Thought number one: "Oh shoot, I'm gonna lose this fish!" Thought number two, the...ugly thought...was: "Oh shoot, I'm gonna lose this fish...and everybody's gonna see it happen!" I hate when that happens. It's not as bad when you lose a fish and are the only one who knows it, but when everybody knows...ugh.

My mind got off that real quick when I looked down and saw that this fish had stripped my fly line off the reel and was down into the backing and still hadn't so much as paused in it's mad dash to be free of that hook. Since I couldn't run across the stream and the near side was bounded by high weeds, I had one choice: follow the fish through the rapids. Scared? You bet. I was running out of line though, and determined to find out what was making me sweat.

It took some serious scrambling on my part and some furious reeling to finally get my fly line back on the reel, and by this point I was down near the fly shop which sits on the bank of the Neshannock Creek. This was a Saturday and there were plenty of other guys fishing. They quickly realized that I was fighting something big, and everybody stopped to look. Bob Shuey, the owner of Neshannock Creek Fly Shop, came out and gave me a little heck. "What's this commotion you're causing out here?" he asked. To be honest, I was so wound up fighting this fish that I don't even remember what I said in response!

I had been fighting this fish for about 20 minutes at this point and all eyes were on me. (Nervous? Bah!) Finally, after all this running, climbing and fighting, the fish showed itself at the surface. It was simply the biggest carp I've ever hooked! I mean when this baby rolled up top it was like a golden side of beef! So when the angler down from me (the fish was still over 20 yards away) offered to net it for me, I quickly accepted.

*Ominous music starts*

Then it all came crashing down. As carp will, this fish reacted badly to the approach of this guy with his net. One huge flip and it threw the hook and took off back upstream.

On the bright side, everybody saw my big fish. On the dark side, I SO wanted a picture with that beast.

Next time I'll tell you about the 4 pound line, Crappie jig, crystal clear water and 6 pound carp. 'Til then...