April 6th, 2011

April 6th, 2011:

Salmon River / Sandy Creek
Altmar, NY
Steelhead / Brown Trout


Ran into my old friend Chris earlier in the week while taking a break at the gym. We were both headed into Herb Phillipson’s sporting good store to pick up fishing supplies. The result was a fishing partnership today in pursuit of steelhead and brown trout.

If I could somehow go back and make a video recap of the steelhead trips we’ve made over the years, it would be almost hysterical. We could entitled it “The bumbling adventures of a couple bored anglers.” Neither of us have ever had enough drive to master the fish, but we do have fun giving it a shot.

The river was very crowded this morning. Arriving on the Salmon River in Altmar near the Wire Hole, we walked almost to the Ellis Cove area before finding a place to fish. The fish were stacked up in the area at different stages of the spawning process, and a lot of fishermen were there trying to catch them.

We put in a decent effort for a couple hours. Fighting through cold hands and frustrating line tangles trying to trick a hungry fish into biting. We did see a couple fish being landed, but neither of us were able to hook into anything.

Looking to warm up and get something to eat, we made our way back to Chris’ car. I wanted to go try Orwell Brook, so we headed off in that direction. To our dismay, my guidance led us into unknown territory. I had somehow misjudged the road leading to the spot we intended to fish. After quite sometime of driving through unknown country side and passing through little towns we never heard of, we arrived in the small town of Sandy Creek.

It was a fine way to find a familiar place again. Not only did I know how to get back to where we had started out, but there was also a fine little stretch of water there in town for us to fish.

Before venturing down to the creek, we stopped into a little diner to grab a bite to eat. It was a typical small town diner that one can find all across the country. When the waitress came out with our food, we were delighted to see some fine small town cooking. Things then went terribly wrong when I approached the waitress for condiments.

After placing our plates of food in front of us and asking us if we needed anything, she began to walk away from our table. As I went to take the first bite from my omelet, the realization came to me that it was missing hot sauce. I excitedly hollered over to the waitress before she wandered away, letting her know that I would like some hot sauce for my omelet. Problem was, while doing so I made a hand gesture like I had the bottle in my hand, and I was trying to squirt it out onto my food. It was identical to a perverted gesture that mimics male masturbation.

The waitress’ eyes bulged from their sockets, and she exclaimed “what!?” I had no idea, and raised my voice while continuing the gesture, saying: “hot sauce!” “hot sauce!” She turned away with a disgusted look, and I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what I had done.

I turned toward Chris, and his face was turning blue with hysterical laughter. He was literally starting to drool. He looked at me, made the gesture, and said “hot sauce?” My face turned beat red after realizing what I had done.

It got worse because Chris just couldn’t pull it together and remained in a hysterical state of laughter. Next thing you know, I’m unable to breath and caught up in the same uncontrollable state. We were really making a scene in that little diner, and needless to say, our service was less than ideal…

The fishing went a little better. We were able to locate a few fish milling about in a few of Sandy’s deeper pockets of water. Seeing those big fish up close and personal in a small stream like Sandy Creek really gets the heart pumping. Getting them to bite is often a difficult task, because the fish tend to be very skittish.

The first hook-up was very short lived. The big hefty steelhead made a short powerful run, and the game was over before it had a chance to begin. I actually think the letdown from the disconnect outweighed the excitement of the hook-up.

Hook-up number two went a little better. Drifting a small night crawler through a deep hole under a bobber was the ticket. The chunky brown trout danced on the surface of the water for awhile as I fumbled around trying to get the net under it. The hook maintained it’s connection and at last I was holding a fine fish.

Even the success of our fishing took an unexpected path when I failed to maintain a firm grip on my catch. While waiting for Chris to come over and take a picture of the fish, it squirmed loose and swam off. It was a little frustrating, but didn’t really phase us too much.

The frustrating part of our outing developed while heading home. Chris’ newly purchased car had a breakdown, leaving us stranded in a bait store parking lot in Pineville. Making the best of it, we tossed our lines into the river down by the bridge while waiting for a tow truck. Today was just another one of our bumbling adventures through steelhead country.