Then & Now With Scotty Barnes

Then & Now with Scotty Barnes!

    It was our first trip to the then Natchaug Valley Campground (now Nickerson Park Family Campground). We were camped down at the far end where the river bends in a big "S" curve. The ripples sing a melody as they pass by and at night it's like being in Big Sky Country out west as the stars fill the sky away from the lighted areas.
     We had great neighbors that included the Schurman's, the Landcrafts and the Larry Barnes family. Larry's son Scotty was really hooked into fishing and one day, I caught this photo of him with a frisky trout.

Scotty Barnes with one of his first trout.

His Dad was a good fisherman and over the years we all became friends and enjoyed many weekends as neighbors.

As happens, kids grow up go to school and other activities and camping is abandoned or at least cut way back.

That's the way it was with us and years passed when we didn't see our friends. A few years back, we got back into camping again, purchased a new pop-up. My bride and I camped during the summer months, but Opening weekends of trout season became a guy thing.My son Todd and other friends never missed an opener until I lost my camper in a flood a few years back. Then Todd and his family got serious about camping again and I've since managed to make every Opener except the year I had knee surgery.

         A couple of years ago, Todd and I were enjoying our first cup of coffee next to the campfire on Opening morning when a young man walked up and introduced himself. It was Scotty Barnes. He's still a good fisherman as demonstrated by this newer photograph. His Dad was with him and we enjoyed talking over old times. Now we all look forward to getting together each and every season.

Scotty is still catching the big ones

DWA

FEBRUARY RAINBOW!

Pretty Winter Rainbows

           Wednesday was too good to pass up. It was February 15th, a few clouds and some sun and the thermometer outside my window read 48 degrees. I'd spent the morning working on taxes. I felt a headache coming on and just knew that the only cure was fishing.

            I finished lunch, loaded a rod, tackle bag and a pair of hip boots in the car and headed out. I forgot the creel and a net. Minutes later I was headed up Rte. 44 to my favorite trout spot, the Natchaug River.Half an hour later, I was tying a Super-Vibrax spinner to the end of my line as the waters of my favorite pool churned slowly by.

             I didn't even need the boots. The water is surprisingly low due to the lack of a snow run-off and more resembled levels found in mid to late June. Visibility was excellent. The water was as clear as a good gin or vodka and I flipped the spinner across and a little upstream, letting it sink a little before starting my retrieve.Nothing! I cast again and again, quartering upstream and down, slowing the retrieve then speeding it up. Inevitably, I let the lure sink too far and hung up. The four-pound test line snapped and another lure was donated to the river.

             I sifted through my lure box until my eyes settled on a little Countdown Rapala colored yellow and gold. I moved downstream towards the bottom of the pool and cast again. The lure was a visible just under the surface and half-way back, I saw movement behind it, I hesitated, twitched the rod tip, turned the handle again. The fish followed but wouldn't hit. Another cast to the same spot came up empty, so I moved a few feet and retrieved again.

           Another flash! I twitched the rod again, turned the handle, jiggled it once more and the fish grabbed it. The rod doubled. I gave up a little line as the drag kicked in but within a few minutes a nice 15-inch trout was flopping at the waters edge. Like I said, I forgot the net, but was able to drag the fish onto the bank, grab it and remove the hook.

           I only keep a few trout every year, but before I left the house, I had made up my mind to keep my catch this day. Now I didn't have a creel either. Back to the car where I found a plastic bag.

          The limit in this Trophy Trout Area is two fish per day. I decided to move down to the next pool and fished it for about 15 minutes. No hits, No errors. Back to my original spot, I decided to switch lures and tied on a Thomas Buoyant. It gives me a little more casting distance and rides the slower currents nicely. I tried my first spot again and nothing, so after a few minutes, I moved up to the top of the pool for a few final casts before packing it in.

          A few casts was sufficient. I'd tossed the lure maybe five or six times when I felt a solid hit and soon played a second trout to the bank, added it to the plastic bag and headed for home.

          The season closes on the Natchaug in two weeks. What the weather will do is anybody's guess. Another nice afternoon between now and then will likely have this old codger heading for the river. If not, I will certainly have enjoyed a couple of great trout dinners. Next time though, I'll remember the net and the creel.

SOME FISH ARE WIMPS!

Back a few years ( more than a few) Chuck Schwartz owned Fairfield Tackle. Chuck introduced me to first, fishing Great Lakes tributaries for steelhead and then followed with an invite aboard Gypsy Charters for  a shot at salmon fishing in Lake Ontario the following summer.

I had hooked big salmon while steelhead fishing in the Salmon River in Pulaski during the spring run, but the 4-pound tippet regulation for steelies always resulted in a long run until we put the brakes on and the line snapped. I was really excited as the boat left the dock.  Chuck, Phil Stein and Win Cyrus were also aboard as we moved a half-mile offshore and the skipper set a whole bunch of rods rigged with a variety of lures at a variety of depths on downriggers.

We picked straws for who would get to play the fish. Phil was the first to score, but not on a salmon. He hit a respectable lake trout, admired it and released it back into the water. Our fishing beats changed every half-hour and the day passed slowly with very little action. There was another hit or two and the two-way radio crackled with complaints from other skippers on the lake who were't doing well either. Hey, it happens!

By the time my turn came, we had eaten all the sandwiches, drank all the beer and soda and it was almost time to pull in the rods. That's when one of the reels started to sing and the skipper handed me the rod. I set the hook, leaned back and started reeling. The fish quickly turned and came towards the boat. I commented that it must be another small laker and continued to reel. No fight! No turning and heading away from the boat. The critter ran right for the transom, stopped and splashed on the surface and somebody put a net around it.

When the fish was swung aboard, we all stood there, mouths wide open. It was a sizable salmon that later weighed in at 28-pounds. It looked healthy, was healthy but just didn't fight worth a darn. Turned put to be the last fish of the day, even though we trolled for another hour or more.

Back at the dock, I posed for this photo with the fish and donated it to the skipper. It was a fun day spent with great company, but it was the wimpiest fish pound for pound that I ever landed.

                                                 DWA

SNAKES ALIVE!

FOR GOODNESS SNAKES

by 

Dick Alley

           I hate snakes! Even though Connecticut isn't over-run with dangerous snakes, I am always watching where I walk when fishing.

The "BUD" was great. Time for the main course.

                  When it comes to trout fishing, Bob Byers and I always enjoyed exploring the rives and streams in the northeast part of the State. Rivers like the Natchaug, the Yantic, Fenton River, the Mount Hope River, Bigelow Brook and others always offer the promise of good trout fishing in April and May. 

                    One day, we traveled down a dirt road through  the forests up around Ashford and Eastford, and came to an open area, the site of some kind of former industrial operation. There were building foundations and a nice stream meandered through the area. It only took a few casts to produce a couple of trout as we walked around casting into different pools and riffles.We were walking the dirt road when one of us looked down to see an area that was crawling with snakes. The critter shown in the photo quickly drew our attention as it was obviously in the process of eating a trout about 10-inches in length.

                 I quickly headed back to the car to get my camera and very cautiously approached this big hungry guy. I don't like snakes and normally do everything in my power to put as much distance between myself and the snake,"any snake" as quickly as possible.

               As I drew closer, it was obvious that I was unwelcome. That snake suddenly began coughing and wiggling, flexing those neck muscles until it expelled the body of the trout. Just as suddenly, it turned and coiled and lunged at me, mouth agape, fangs bared. Luckily I was far enough away that it fell to the ground missing me by a couple of feet. (Thanks for telephoto lenses.) I would have loved to have had that shot, but I was too busy back-pedaling in the other direction to take it.

              This photo remains one of my favorites and always came up in conversations when Bob and I would tell war stories over a beer or two.

DWA

FIRST FISH

FIRST FISH

Fishing is an important factor when it comes to aging properly. Almost every fish is a memory. Even more precious are the memories of watching children and grandchildren learn the sport of fishing and experience their own first fishing adventure.

Todd Alley with his first sunfish. He was maybe 4 or 5 at the time.

Becca Alley is Todd's daughter and she was happy with her first trout two seasons back while on a camping trip to the Natchaug River. Grandpa and Dad were both on hand for the occasion.

Nichole is Becca's older sister and it was double the fun that day because both girls  caught trout on their first fishing day.

Found the photo! - My oldest Grandson Chris with his first sunfish, fishing the Saugatuck Reservoir with Grandpa.  

Mary Meinke is Poppy Alley's oldest Grand-daughter. She'll be graduating from  College in May but on this day she was on her first fishing trip to the Saugatuck Reservoir with her Grandfather.

Will Meinke is Mary's younger brother and he graduates High School this June. This was a day when he  was camping with Grandma & Poppy and caught his first sunfish in the Natchaug River.

I was unable to locate my daughter Lori's first fishing photo nor her son,   Christopher's who is now 24 and out in the working world. I remember taking Lori to River Road on the Saugatuck in Weston on an opening day when she was about 8 years old. FOUND IT! Grandson Chris caught his first sunny at the Saugatuck Reservoir. It;s added to the group but stil looking for Lori's.
None have become avid anglers like myself. Todd has an almost professional degree of expertise with a fly rod and caught his personal best trout just this past season. Mary has a continued interest in fishing. We have a date for this summer after graduation.
It will be fun to see how all of  their interests develop in the years ahead. I was a fishing nut until midway through high school due to other more pleasant distractions. I fished very little while doing military service nor for a couple of years after my discharge. It was the late 1950's that the fish-fire began burning brightly again and since then I've been hooked.
I'm just happy to have been there at the beginning.
DWA

NEVER FORGET YOUR FRIENDS!

 Ed Stalling & Joe Pysa take a break on a Rhode Island Beach!

I'm not sure just when, probably mid-1960's, but I remember taking this picture of two old friends on a Rhode Island beach when then let me tag along for a day of surf fishing.

Ed & Joe were friends long before I knew them. As young guys, they loved taking the drive to Lake Willoughby in Vermont where Ed had a cabin---and where he caught the big rainbow trout hanging on his wall for many years. They fished the salt water together too. They knew more about fishing the Norwalk Islands, the when, the where, the tides and weather to catch the biggest and the best.

Joe was a Game Warden. That's what everybody called them in those days and they eventually became Conservation Officers. Joe worked his way up to Fisheries Biologist. He worked closely with many other conservationists and scientists on early striped bass studies in Long Island Sound and on a Coastal level with Legends like Bob Pond. 

Ed was an ex-Marine who enlisted right after Pearl Harbor, fought ad was wounded in the Pacific, but made it back to raise his family in Westport. Three sons, followed him in the Marines, his youngest son Tim,  fought in Iraq.  Ed was my closest fishing buddy until a few years ago when cancer caught up to him. I fished with Joe a number of times too and  often ran into him on stocking days during trout season.

I miss them both and still stay in touch with families and while I'm in no big rush to get there, look forward to sharing some fishing tales with them when we meet again.

DWA

NO SCHOOL TODAY!

It was the late 1960's, a time when bluefish action was very strong. My son Todd was in third grade, but on this fantastic fall day there were better things to do than top go to school. Horrors! I took him fishing instead.

The blues were breaking at Burying Hill. They ran all day long from dawn to dusk feeding on peanut bunker. They drove the bait onto the beaches from Burying Hill to Bedford's Point and on the other side of this creek halfway up the length of beach to Billy's Rock on Sherwood Island. Every so often they would her the bait on up the creek. New Creek! It was simple to stand on the bank and cast. We watched them breaking at the top of the photo and a popping plug, any popper cast near the breaking fish would bring a strike. They weren't big, averaging maybe 3 to 5 - pounds, but they fought like twice their size.

I'm not sure just how much Todd missed in the ways of the Three R's that day, but neither of us ever forgot the fishing we experienced.

I don't think his education was really harmed. Today, he is a tenured educator with a Master's Degree.    - DWA

THE HIT!

THE HIT!

Carrying a camera has become as important to a fishing trip as rod, reel and tackle box. The photo's we take today are the memories of tomorrow. As an aging fisherman, photo-journalist, I have come to treasure the memories resulting from the many photo's, I've snapped over the past half-century. Recently, I discovered another box of slides in the basement and was astounded at the thoughts they triggered as I scanned them into the computer. That is the reason and the justification for this new blog. I thought it would be fun to share some of these long-ago fishing adventures. What better beginning than to relate the tale of the day when I captured the moment a big striper slammed a lure on the surface in the waters off Wiccapessett in Eastern Long Island Sound.

I think it was about 25 years back when my phone rang as I was watching TV after supper. It was Captain Greg Dubrule, then skipper of Seaweed Charters out of Noank. He was excited.

" Dick! Are you free tomorrow?", he asked. When I answered in the affirmative, he quickly told how there was a good bass bite happening and I should be at the dock by 3:30AM and if I wanted to bring somebody else, that was OK too. I turned to my son Todd, asked if he wanted to go fishing, got the nod and quickly answered that we would be there. 

We arrived on time, and headed out in the dark to first fish some live eels at a couple of Greg's favorite spots. WE came up empty, but Greg wasn't discouraged. Day was breaking and the skipper had plenty of possibilities. As darkness turned to light, he eased his boat between a couple of huge boulders, just visible beneath the surface. The current was strong and he handed Todd a heavy-duty spinning rig, big enough to toss a bright red Reverse Atom. He pointed to a spot about a hundred feet away, where a tidal rip emphasized the appearnce of another big rock just beneath the surface. 

"Drop your plug right next to that boulder", he instructed. Todd  made a perfect cast, landing the big plug a foot from the rck. "Give it a splash", said Greg as Todd leaned into the rod, making the big plug gurgle. That's when the fish hit. I was lucky enough to have my camera trained on the lure and caught the fish as it grabbed the big Atom plug.

We enjoyed a fantastic day of striper fishing, thanks to Captain Greg.Catching the photo at the exact moment the fish hit was a bonus.  - DWA

HOWARD DREYFUSS

HOWARD DREYFUSS

This photo was taken sometime in the early 1970's. Howard was an old friend who I met on a Westport Beach and occasionally exchanged fishing stories with.

It had been a good morning at Burying Hill Beach in Westport and the action was just about over. It's obvious that Howard had enjoyed a great day of bluefish action as I took the time to snap some photo's in the aftermath. I see Westport fishing fixture Doc Skerlick casting in the background but Doc is a story for another day.

Howard was an exceptional human being. A former Ct State Representative and a member of the Diplomatic Corps, he had traveled throughout the world, spending a lot of time in post-WWII China. 

When I had the film developed, I liked this picture and had a print made which I gave to Howard. He was very appreciative, but I didn't realize how much he liked it until weeks later when he knocked on my back door and presented me with his own favorite fishing rod, an Orvis Battenkill bamboo rod. He explained that he wouldn't be around much longer and wanted me to have the rod as he knew I would care for it. He told me he had fished the rod all over the world.

A few weeks later, Howard passed away. The rod remains one of my fishing treasures.      - DWA