Chapter 11- The River
North Western To Wells Creek
Discovery: On Again Off Again Adventure
September 28, 2000, 43 degrees, Sunny
After parking Denny's car near the bridge at North Western, we drove
down Route 46 to Frenchville and parked the Jeep behind the Highway Department
buildings. It was 9:45 a.m. when we walked through the woods to the river.
While Denny fished the pool directly behind the town barn, I walked downstream
to Wells Creek.
This section of the Mohawk flows through rich bottomland.
Some if it is still farmed, but much is overgrown with brush and small
trees, with a few monarch maple, ash, cottonwood and willow mixed in. Wildflowers
grow at the edge of farmfields and in open areas along the river.
At this time of year wild sunflower and purple aster grew in abundance.These
striking flowers back dropped by green trees and deep blue sky was enough
to please any lover of the outdoors, but the colors didn't end there. Like
an artist's brush, cool nights and shorter days had dabbed splashes of
yellow, gold and scarlet across the landscape.
The lower stretch of Wells Creek was practically
filled with piles of cobblestones and fallen trees, providing pools and
runs that probably held trout during high water periods, but were devoid
of fish that morning. If there were fish in the long run in the river just
downstream from the mouth of the creek, they didn't want my gold spoon.
Not surprising. We had learned on previous outings that this late in the
season fishing was poor near the access points and got better the further
we got from the road.
At 10 o'clock I reversed direction and waded up
the Mohawk. Poplar, willow and brush lined the river banks. Deer tracks
perforated a sand and gravel bar that jutted out into the river. Just upstream
from the bar was a mud and muck bay surrounded by small trees and brush.
When I cast my lure into the river near the upper end of the bay, it snagged
on the bottom. From my downstream position I couldn't pull it free. The
muck around the edge of the bay was too deep to wade and it was impossible
to walk through the trees carrying a fishing rod with outstretched line,
so I had to literally throw the rod across the bay. Fortunately, it landed
on soft ground away from the muck. From there I worked the lure free.
Denny was well ahead, so I crossed the river, climbed
the bank and walked along the edge of a huge meadow where I saw several
clumps of white and blue aster. I was surprised to also discover a patch
of black-eyed Susan. They don't usually bloom so late in the year.
After passing through a stand of giant cottonwood, maple and ash and a
few streamside willows, I saw Denny. He was landing a trout, a 9-inch brown,
the first fish of the day. He continued fishing and I continued upstream.
At 10:30 I passed a tree covered island where the
river bottom was mostly multi-colored rock and cobble. Just upstream a
kingfisher swooped low over the water and complained of my presence. It
had been fishing near a mid-stream pile of trees and logs.The pools around
this debris provided ideal trout habitat: deep, well oxygenated water with
plenty of cover. There had to be some big fish lying under those logs,
but they were not interested in my offering.
Upstream, a long run, 50 yards or more, passed under
the overhanging branches of streamside willows, some of them almost
touching the water. The water wasn't too deep but was well shaded. This
type of cover is ideal trout habitat during the heat of summer, and it
requires pinpoint casting skills to keep lures from getting hung up in
tree branches. I made a few casts without results or snags, and moved on.
I fished several great looking pools and runs without a hit or follow.
I jotted in my notebook "THE FISH ARE TURNED OFF."
Two red-tailed hawks circled overhead as I approached
the mouth of Tannery Brook. It was 11:15. My first cast produced a 9-inch
rainbow trout and my second cast connected with a 9-inch brown. More like
it.
While I was releasing the brown, Denny caught up.
He had also taken a rainbow trout. Around the next bend the river ran deep
and wide, so we fished together. Standing thigh deep in the river casting
to rises on the opposite side of a long quiet pool, Denny noted, "This
is a good spot for fly fishing. Plenty of room for backcasts."
We weren't fishing with flies, but the trout didn't
seem to care. We caught and released a couple of fish each from that pool
before moving upstream. For the next hour we caught and lost fish after
fish from pools and fast runs. None of them were lunkers but a couple browns
and one rainbow were almost a foot long . . . and full of fight.
The fish turned off as fast as they turned on. Their
sudden reluctance to eat metal, had nothing to do with the phases of the
moon, the angle of the sun or our fishing skills. It had everything to
do with the fact that we were within a half mile of a bridge. We arrived
at North Western and the end of our discovery trip at 1 o'clock.
Follow the path of this discovery trip by clicking on Mohawk Valley Maps: by Maptech.
Type North Western, select New York, press GO!
Click on margin arrows to follow the path of the Mohawk River south to Wells Creek.
