salmonoid
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2007
- Messages
- 2,711
One of the most engrossing forms of fishing that I've come to enjoy over the past five years is night fishing for trout. I think I'm only at the point of having caught half a dozen fish on my forays into the night, but they have been some of the most exciting fish that I've managed to land.
One of the things that you quickly learn is that the senses that are valuable during the day are diminished at night, and you learn to accentuate the sense of hearing and the sense of touch. You listen for the soft gurgle of a fish taking a fly off the surface, or at times, for the splash of a larger fish trying to make the killing hit on what it thinks is a mouse that fell into the water. You learn to be far more in tune with the sensitivity of the line, and react to slight changes in drag in the water, indicating that something has taken a stab at the fly. And while patience certainly pays during the day, you learn that its essential at night.
There are actually only two streams that I've fished at night. One is a freestoner in northcentral PA, and its given up a pair of 21" browns, a 15" brown and a 14" brown. The other is in southcentral PA, and its given up a 14" brown and two 13" browns. One of each of these latter fish came to hand over this past weekend.
During the day, I prefer to sight fish. I guess I like to know that I'm casting to something. At night, this is possible as well, although a different tactic is required. It goes without saying that your chances of success increase if you know which holes have fish to target. I've identified fish I want to catch in a number of ways; spotting one of the 21 inchers coming out to feed at dusk, drawing another out earlier in the evening from his lair, but not getting him to commit, or the more obvious way of spotlighting for fish.
On Friday, as dark settled in, we used the flash light to spot two potential holes and confirmed two larger fish, one in each hole. When I packed to go away for the weekend, I mistakenly put in my five-weight rod and my eight-weight reel, but the mismatch turned out to be a non-issue, since both fish I caught I used a dapping technique to catch.
Friday night was full moon, which I feel is not quite ideal for night fishing. It does have the benefit of being able to use your sense of sight, but I also think the browns are a tad bit more wary when the moon is out in full. But aside from clouds, there's not a lot to do about a full moon, so about 10:30PM, I went out to the stream. The first hole I intended to fish was along an undercut bank with a stump. With the way the trees and bushes were growing on the bank, there were three lanes to fish the stream from the bank; one at the top of the hole, one in the middle, over the stump, and one at the bottom, below the stump. I had spotted the fish earlier in the night below the stump, but started out fishing the upper lane. With the moon, it was easy to see the mouse fly hit the water, and watch the ripples roll out from it. With a good dap, the mouse hit the water with a resounding splash, sending off ripples of water and ripples of sound as well. I had no takes on the upper lane, so I moved down the bank five feet to the middle lane, over the stump. I repeated the dap, working the stream from close of my side of the bank to the other side of the stream, but again no hits. Then, I moved down to the bottom lane. This lane was slightly larger, which was good, because not only could I dap, but I could also strip the mouse. An example of why patience is key is that it wasn't until about the tenth cast that I felt the solid hit of a fish, along with the concurrent splash and gurgle of the take, and with the full moon, it was a take I could also see. But the fish didn't take the hook, so it took about another ten casts before he hit again. And again, my hookset missed his mouth (and thankfully, the mouse didn't end up ten feet above me in a tree branch). It was as if the fish was just sucking on the mouse, and then releasing it. About ten minutes and the same number of casts after that, the third strike came, and this time, the line went tight. The headlamp went on, and a hard fighting brown showed itself attached to the mouse. I was glad to have a net, because I was a couple of feet off the water. I missed the fish with the first scoop, but netted him with the second. I believe this may have been the best looking brown I caught all year - the red spots were just gorgeous. I released the fish and moved onto the second hole.
The second hole had held some larger fish in years past, but this year, some transportation genius had dumped loose rock off the bridge into the stream, essentially filling in both the top and the bottom sides of the hole. Nevertheless, we had spotted one nice size fish there earlier in the evening, and so I setup casting below the bridge, and then switching to the upper side. But there were no slurps or splashes or tugs, so I went to bed one for two.
The second night, a thunderstorm went through around dusk. This had two effects; first, the water came up a tiny little bit, and gained a tiny bit of murkiness, and secondly, the clouds dampened the bright moon a bit. I went back to the stump hole but couldn't buy a take. I went to the second hole and fished the downstream side, but also couldn't buy a take there. So I switched to the upstream side and dapped the mouse into a little run alongside the bank on the other side of the stream. First dap, the water exploded, the head lamp went on, and a brown shortly came to shore. It wasn't quite as pretty as the one from the night before, but it still was a beautiful wild brown.
Earlier in the day, I had fished downstream a distance, and had hooked and landed a nice 15" brown (third fish in the pictures below). Just above where I caught that guy, I had identified three stumps and root ball holes that I felt had to hold fish. However, they were close to 3/4 of a mile away, so I opted to walk downstream a bit to a few other holes and tossed the mouse in. After many casts in each hole, I turned the light on and saw only one small fish. When we left on Monday, we were throwing bread into the one hole, and at least three larger fish were chasing it, so I either spooked the fish at night, or they simply were not out feeding.
The third night, I visited the two holes I had caught fish in the two nights before, but had no hits, and when I shone my light into each hole, I also saw no fish. I don't know if the fish were wise to the mouse, or they simply weren't feeding yet. There was a slight bit of internal tension for me that evening, as earlier that afternoon, we were out for a walk near the one hole on the stream. Some dog-walkers stopped and pointed into the woods, and when we walked up to them, we found they were pointing at a nice sized bruin. The bear walked through the woods, sat down for a bit, got up, walked on a log and was looking to cross the road, until a Harley roared up. The bear thought better, and turned around and ran back up into the woods. Of course, at night, the bear was on my mind, and so was the rattlesnake that my niece saw earlier in the weekend. There was heavier cloud cover than either night, but it was still light enough to see; I managed to see about half a dozen bears, that dissolved into shadows and ended up going to bed shut out.
Tactics for this set of outings were different than other times I've tried night fishing. I was able to dap the fly for both fish I caught and caught nothing on the downstream side of the hole where I was able to cast. On other streams, I was able to perform a full back-cast; one area has a large pool and casting is necessary. Another area was a twenty yard straight stretch of stream, about five feet wide, but it was possible to place a straight cast into it. On the NC PA stream, I usually fish blind. In the SC PA stream, I scouted with a light an hour before fishing. When I first started out night fishing, I used a hopper (because it was the largest floating fly I had in my box) and caught my first two fish with that. The next fish I caught on a dropper Zonker, hung off a hopper, but I discovered the morning after that one of the reasons I may only have caught the single fish was my setup was all wrapped up around each other. Ten years ago, I had tied a deer hair mouse, which was stuffed away in an old tackle box, and when I finally located it two years ago, (and left it in the vehicle the first time I wanted to use it), I had found a good fly to use. Big fish eat big meals, and a mouse struggling on the water is quite visible to a big fish. Water soaked, the mouse thwaps the water with a nice resounding splash, drawing predators to it. If the splash gets their attention, the V of the mouse swimming across the pool gets them to hone in on it.
Be careful when night fishing. The stream is the same as during the day, but your ability to see the hazards is not. Hone your sense of listening, and touch, identify where fish are located, plan a casting lane, or find a place to dap, plan to sleep in a bit the next day, and enjoy your immersion into a whole new fishing experience.
One of the things that you quickly learn is that the senses that are valuable during the day are diminished at night, and you learn to accentuate the sense of hearing and the sense of touch. You listen for the soft gurgle of a fish taking a fly off the surface, or at times, for the splash of a larger fish trying to make the killing hit on what it thinks is a mouse that fell into the water. You learn to be far more in tune with the sensitivity of the line, and react to slight changes in drag in the water, indicating that something has taken a stab at the fly. And while patience certainly pays during the day, you learn that its essential at night.
There are actually only two streams that I've fished at night. One is a freestoner in northcentral PA, and its given up a pair of 21" browns, a 15" brown and a 14" brown. The other is in southcentral PA, and its given up a 14" brown and two 13" browns. One of each of these latter fish came to hand over this past weekend.
During the day, I prefer to sight fish. I guess I like to know that I'm casting to something. At night, this is possible as well, although a different tactic is required. It goes without saying that your chances of success increase if you know which holes have fish to target. I've identified fish I want to catch in a number of ways; spotting one of the 21 inchers coming out to feed at dusk, drawing another out earlier in the evening from his lair, but not getting him to commit, or the more obvious way of spotlighting for fish.
On Friday, as dark settled in, we used the flash light to spot two potential holes and confirmed two larger fish, one in each hole. When I packed to go away for the weekend, I mistakenly put in my five-weight rod and my eight-weight reel, but the mismatch turned out to be a non-issue, since both fish I caught I used a dapping technique to catch.
Friday night was full moon, which I feel is not quite ideal for night fishing. It does have the benefit of being able to use your sense of sight, but I also think the browns are a tad bit more wary when the moon is out in full. But aside from clouds, there's not a lot to do about a full moon, so about 10:30PM, I went out to the stream. The first hole I intended to fish was along an undercut bank with a stump. With the way the trees and bushes were growing on the bank, there were three lanes to fish the stream from the bank; one at the top of the hole, one in the middle, over the stump, and one at the bottom, below the stump. I had spotted the fish earlier in the night below the stump, but started out fishing the upper lane. With the moon, it was easy to see the mouse fly hit the water, and watch the ripples roll out from it. With a good dap, the mouse hit the water with a resounding splash, sending off ripples of water and ripples of sound as well. I had no takes on the upper lane, so I moved down the bank five feet to the middle lane, over the stump. I repeated the dap, working the stream from close of my side of the bank to the other side of the stream, but again no hits. Then, I moved down to the bottom lane. This lane was slightly larger, which was good, because not only could I dap, but I could also strip the mouse. An example of why patience is key is that it wasn't until about the tenth cast that I felt the solid hit of a fish, along with the concurrent splash and gurgle of the take, and with the full moon, it was a take I could also see. But the fish didn't take the hook, so it took about another ten casts before he hit again. And again, my hookset missed his mouth (and thankfully, the mouse didn't end up ten feet above me in a tree branch). It was as if the fish was just sucking on the mouse, and then releasing it. About ten minutes and the same number of casts after that, the third strike came, and this time, the line went tight. The headlamp went on, and a hard fighting brown showed itself attached to the mouse. I was glad to have a net, because I was a couple of feet off the water. I missed the fish with the first scoop, but netted him with the second. I believe this may have been the best looking brown I caught all year - the red spots were just gorgeous. I released the fish and moved onto the second hole.
The second hole had held some larger fish in years past, but this year, some transportation genius had dumped loose rock off the bridge into the stream, essentially filling in both the top and the bottom sides of the hole. Nevertheless, we had spotted one nice size fish there earlier in the evening, and so I setup casting below the bridge, and then switching to the upper side. But there were no slurps or splashes or tugs, so I went to bed one for two.
The second night, a thunderstorm went through around dusk. This had two effects; first, the water came up a tiny little bit, and gained a tiny bit of murkiness, and secondly, the clouds dampened the bright moon a bit. I went back to the stump hole but couldn't buy a take. I went to the second hole and fished the downstream side, but also couldn't buy a take there. So I switched to the upstream side and dapped the mouse into a little run alongside the bank on the other side of the stream. First dap, the water exploded, the head lamp went on, and a brown shortly came to shore. It wasn't quite as pretty as the one from the night before, but it still was a beautiful wild brown.
Earlier in the day, I had fished downstream a distance, and had hooked and landed a nice 15" brown (third fish in the pictures below). Just above where I caught that guy, I had identified three stumps and root ball holes that I felt had to hold fish. However, they were close to 3/4 of a mile away, so I opted to walk downstream a bit to a few other holes and tossed the mouse in. After many casts in each hole, I turned the light on and saw only one small fish. When we left on Monday, we were throwing bread into the one hole, and at least three larger fish were chasing it, so I either spooked the fish at night, or they simply were not out feeding.
The third night, I visited the two holes I had caught fish in the two nights before, but had no hits, and when I shone my light into each hole, I also saw no fish. I don't know if the fish were wise to the mouse, or they simply weren't feeding yet. There was a slight bit of internal tension for me that evening, as earlier that afternoon, we were out for a walk near the one hole on the stream. Some dog-walkers stopped and pointed into the woods, and when we walked up to them, we found they were pointing at a nice sized bruin. The bear walked through the woods, sat down for a bit, got up, walked on a log and was looking to cross the road, until a Harley roared up. The bear thought better, and turned around and ran back up into the woods. Of course, at night, the bear was on my mind, and so was the rattlesnake that my niece saw earlier in the weekend. There was heavier cloud cover than either night, but it was still light enough to see; I managed to see about half a dozen bears, that dissolved into shadows and ended up going to bed shut out.
Tactics for this set of outings were different than other times I've tried night fishing. I was able to dap the fly for both fish I caught and caught nothing on the downstream side of the hole where I was able to cast. On other streams, I was able to perform a full back-cast; one area has a large pool and casting is necessary. Another area was a twenty yard straight stretch of stream, about five feet wide, but it was possible to place a straight cast into it. On the NC PA stream, I usually fish blind. In the SC PA stream, I scouted with a light an hour before fishing. When I first started out night fishing, I used a hopper (because it was the largest floating fly I had in my box) and caught my first two fish with that. The next fish I caught on a dropper Zonker, hung off a hopper, but I discovered the morning after that one of the reasons I may only have caught the single fish was my setup was all wrapped up around each other. Ten years ago, I had tied a deer hair mouse, which was stuffed away in an old tackle box, and when I finally located it two years ago, (and left it in the vehicle the first time I wanted to use it), I had found a good fly to use. Big fish eat big meals, and a mouse struggling on the water is quite visible to a big fish. Water soaked, the mouse thwaps the water with a nice resounding splash, drawing predators to it. If the splash gets their attention, the V of the mouse swimming across the pool gets them to hone in on it.
Be careful when night fishing. The stream is the same as during the day, but your ability to see the hazards is not. Hone your sense of listening, and touch, identify where fish are located, plan a casting lane, or find a place to dap, plan to sleep in a bit the next day, and enjoy your immersion into a whole new fishing experience.
And hope you don't hook a bat, which I've managed to do as well..
