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![]() a Permit resists |
Continued
from the 09/03/01
"Insider" PERMIT: THE GOLDEN FLEECE He proclaims, "That is a nice fish!" Finally, the boat is in close position again. I have to cast |
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quartering into the wind with the line and fly crossing the center of the boat...which is filled with people. It is a tricky, unnerving presentation. Sure enough the cast lands short. I strip line frantically, trying to pull the heavy fly line out of the water to make another cast. Derrick poles the boat hard, keeping pace with the fast moving fish. Surprisingly it has not spooked. I take a deep breath and let my nerves settle. Shooting line on the back cast and hauling hard on the forward |
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permit are very strong |
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cast, my body arches forward and drives the narrow loop into the wind. The bulky fly lands quietly four feet in front of and slightly beyond the moving fish. I count to four and twitch the fly. The Permit sees it and strikes. I feel him and pull. Nothing! (Expletive deleted.) He spins around twice in the knee-deep water thirty feet from the boat where the light gives us a glare-free view of his desperate effort to locate the fly. Vortices of muddy water whirl up with each |
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kick of his wide black tail as he maneuvers to find the fly. I twitch the fly again. Somehow, he spots the fly in all this mess, probably by feel, and charges, but looses sight of it in a plume of mud and misses. I keep stripping the fly with the Permit in hot pursuit, his long, thin, black dorsal fin slicing through his bulging bow wake. I feel the grab and make a hard two foot strip with my left hand. The line comes tight as the sharp stainless steel hook bites deep into his fleshy mouth. There is a wild thrashing at the end of my line. |
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"You've
got him!" Derrick
yells. "Get the
slack line clear...get him on the reel 'cause all hell is going to
break loose! You've got
him. God , I love you for
that, mon!" |
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Permit and don't have the faintest idea what to expect. Adrenaline pumps through my already over-crowded veins. At first the fish doesn't do much. For a few seconds he doesn't realize he is hooked. He just wallows around making big bulges and kicking up plumes of spray with his wide vee-shaped black tail. This gives me precious time to get organized. I set the hook again with confidence. The Permit takes fifty yards of backing at moderate speed as it heads for deeper water in the center of the lagoon. "Nice fish!" says Derrick and poles the boat after him. "He doesn't look that big", I reply. "I think you will be surprised", he reassures. I am thinking to myself, " this shouldn't take too long". Derrick poles the boat after the fish. I gain line rapidly and in no time nearly all of the backing is on the reel. I actually turn the fish around so he is facing me. I see his gray outline against the bottom. Suddenly, there is an explosion when the Permit panics, turns end for end and the rod is nearly wrenched from my grip. The reel shrieks, its handle is a blur. Fifty yards of backing melts from the spool and then he turns the after-burner on, taking another hundred yards with such speed that I can hear the reel handle churning air like a turbine. Then he stops and just wanders around and I realize that it was my image on the bow which had spooked him, not the tension of the line. I pull hard but it seems to have little effect. Derrick poles the boat and once again the line is gained back to the reel and the Permit spooks and takes it away. This process is repeated many times with the Permit showing unbelievable resistance. However, the runs do keep getting shorter and shorter. Over an hour later it is getting dark when the Permit is finally tailed. My right arm is in shock from wrist to elbow. Derrick is elated. The Permit is 31 inches long and possibly over fifteen pounds, much larger than it had appeared in the water. I stare in awe at this beautiful silvery creature in my hands and then place it gently in the water. It revives quickly and churns out into the tropical sunset. There is much laughter in the boat as Derrick fires up the motor and we head back for camp. The next day I was able to land a nearly identical Permit which almost spooled me. The day after that Jim got a double. The first was about twelve pounds the other around twenty. All of the fish were taken on the brownish gray fly. We named it the Placencia Mud Crab. Now we had a fly that permit would eat. Our confidence grew. |
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**** |
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Fly
DeJour |
| This fly has been very productive for Deschutes steelhead the past four seasons. It closely resembles several other popular Deschutes steelhead flies in the purple and pink theme. The unique application of Edge Bright in the pattern was added to give the fly more visibility during periods of glacial run-off from White River. Edge Bright is a a plastic sheet which is able to gather light through the broad flat side and magnify it through the narrow edge. This material is cut into narrow strips and then "tied in" so that as it is wound forward the wraps over-lap leaving the rear edges exposed. These rear edges glow with transmitted light. This effect is further enhanced if the the Edge Bright is layered over a foundation of silver tinsel. The name came from two unrelated groups of angers who called it the Fly DeJour after outstandingly successful fishing periods with Mark Bachmann on the Deschutes. | |
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The Local Scene |
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The
Deschutes River |
Crooked River Water flows are stable and the water has enough color to give the fish a sense of security. Most fish are 9" to 13" with a few fish to 19". Most days its nymphs morning and mid-day and dry flies in the afternoon and evening. Flies: Elk Hair Caddis; Blue Winged Olives; Comparaduns, Scuds; Woolly Bugger, B.H. Pheasant Tail, Serendipities and Soft Hackles. Sandy and Clackamas
Rivers |
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The Fly Fishing Shop, Welches, OR
1(800)
266-3971
Fish
long & prosper,
Mark Bachmann & Patty Barnes
All
photos by Mark Bachmann & Patty Barnes. All rights reserved.