Westfield River with Bill
Where: Knightville Dam WMA on East Branch Westfield River
When: 9/17/94-9/18/94
With: Bill
Bill was itching for a hike, so we decided to hook up and meet halfway for some camping and fishing. We both left at 7AM and arrived within minutes of each other at the Chesterfield Post Office at 9AM. Bill said he'd enjoyed the scenic ride out. We had a brief debate about the need to purchase a fishing license for him, decided not to, and headed down to the water.
We parked once again at the parking area just before the gate to the Indian Hollow campground - the only cars there. A man on a mountain bike pedaled out past us just before we went in and headed up the road we'd come in on. After packing up, we pulled on our waders and headed in. A beautiful, warm, partly cloudy day.
The river was very low and I was a bit worried as we crossed it. Not the impressive rushing trout stream I'd promised Bill. Once across, we headed up the road, north toward the mini-gorge, and had a nice walk. Along the way, the mountain biker passed us again, coming down from the north and moving fast. Apparently a serious rider to have made that loop so quickly. Soon afterwards, the road, which had curved away from the river, curved back and we took a side trail down to the water. As I expected, we were just below the mini-gorge and we crossed to the east side. Both of us soaked the bottoms of our packs a bit, but nothing too bad.
After scrambling up the bank, we found a foot trail and followed that up to the campsite on top of the gorge. After dropping my pack, I looked over the cliff down at the water and spotted a dark shape moving across some submerged, sunlit rocks. A HUGE trout, just cruising along. I called Bill over and he was suitably impressed. There WERE fish in here. We relaxed a bit, then set out to do some fishing. I went down to the gorge, fished off the rocks for a while, then scrambled back up to the campsite to retrieve some bottles of Tubabrew. I returned to the gorge, placed the Tubabrews in the water to cool, and then continued fishing. Mr. Beaver dropped by to smack his tail.
After a bit, with no success, I headed upstream to find Bill. I caught up with him just above the small island upstream of the mini-gorge. He was fishing a small pool, and also having no luck. We both continued on upstream, fishing pools as we came to them. One set of pools looked especially nice and I fished upstream of Bill, each of us casting into some shady pools just under some rocks. I was using a bigger-than-usual Hendricks. Suddenly, on one of my casts, WHAM! The fly hit the water and a fish hit the fly. I grabbed the slack line with one hand and tried to pull it in so I could use my reel, but I wound up playing him with the line. I called to Bill to come with his net while I let the fish do his thing in the pool. He put up a nice fight, diving and twisting, before Bill arrived and got the net under him. A nice 12-13 inch rainbow. Bill got a picture and then we let the fish go back into a small pool. It took him a while, but he recovered and started to look for a way out. We had to help him back into the main stream. My first fish on a fly.
After that, I fished another pool upstream while Bill kept working the lower pool. He saw a big one in there and had him a couple of time, but the fish spit out the fly both times and Bill never managed to snag him. After a bit, we headed upstream some more. Just above the old bridge crossing, where Chip and I had exited the river for the road, we decided to stay on the water and went up the east side of a large island. It was a really nice area. The whole section was more isolated from the road than other parts of the river and the island itself appeared to be a good spot for a future campsite. The river was a bit narrower, but full of promising pools. Unfortunately, none of them yielded any fish for us, so we kept on walking. Finally, we fished a big flat above the island, and then got back on the road to head back to camp. We were behind a large group of folks just in for a walk, but passed them when they went down to the river.
Back at camp, I fetched some Tubabrews (Black & Blue Berry Mead) and we had those with a late lunch and relaxed. The sky had been threatening all day, even showering a bit every so often, so we eventually decided to set up camp. The tents went up and we proceeded to get on with our evening. We did a bit more fishing down in the gorge and some rope swinging. At one point, I was fishing in the upper portion of the gorge and Bill was down below. I heard the slap of a beaver tail and looked to see TWO beavers swimming about, down by Bill. Mrs. Beaver!
Finally, we decided to call it quits and have some supper. Rice for me, freeze-dried chili for Bill, and Tubabrew (Mom's Apple Pie Mead) to drink. Yum! For desert, marshmallows and M&Ms. For entertainment, marshmallow sacrifices. Around 10PM, we called it a day and headed to the tents. A storm came in over night and poured rain, but the tents did their duty and kept us dry.
The next day, I woke at 6, intending to go fishing. I changed my mind, but around 6:15 I heard voices down at the water. I crawled out of the tent and looked to see two guys down there fishing. I decided to make my presence known, to "claim" our side of the gorge, so I hauled on my boots, grabbed my gear, and went down to the water. After a bit of fishing (no luck), I went back up to the camp for breakfast. Bill was up and the two of us took our time with a relaxed meal. We packed up afterwards and headed downstream, intending to fish our way back to the cars. We went a good ways, but finally decided to head up to the road and take the easy way out. At the ford, we crossed over to the campsite and checked it out. It seemed to be a nice place - bathroom/shower house, big fields, picnic tables, etc. Finally, back to the cars and home.
When: 9/17/94-9/18/94
With: Bill
Bill was itching for a hike, so we decided to hook up and meet halfway for some camping and fishing. We both left at 7AM and arrived within minutes of each other at the Chesterfield Post Office at 9AM. Bill said he'd enjoyed the scenic ride out. We had a brief debate about the need to purchase a fishing license for him, decided not to, and headed down to the water.
We parked once again at the parking area just before the gate to the Indian Hollow campground - the only cars there. A man on a mountain bike pedaled out past us just before we went in and headed up the road we'd come in on. After packing up, we pulled on our waders and headed in. A beautiful, warm, partly cloudy day.
The river was very low and I was a bit worried as we crossed it. Not the impressive rushing trout stream I'd promised Bill. Once across, we headed up the road, north toward the mini-gorge, and had a nice walk. Along the way, the mountain biker passed us again, coming down from the north and moving fast. Apparently a serious rider to have made that loop so quickly. Soon afterwards, the road, which had curved away from the river, curved back and we took a side trail down to the water. As I expected, we were just below the mini-gorge and we crossed to the east side. Both of us soaked the bottoms of our packs a bit, but nothing too bad.
After scrambling up the bank, we found a foot trail and followed that up to the campsite on top of the gorge. After dropping my pack, I looked over the cliff down at the water and spotted a dark shape moving across some submerged, sunlit rocks. A HUGE trout, just cruising along. I called Bill over and he was suitably impressed. There WERE fish in here. We relaxed a bit, then set out to do some fishing. I went down to the gorge, fished off the rocks for a while, then scrambled back up to the campsite to retrieve some bottles of Tubabrew. I returned to the gorge, placed the Tubabrews in the water to cool, and then continued fishing. Mr. Beaver dropped by to smack his tail.
After a bit, with no success, I headed upstream to find Bill. I caught up with him just above the small island upstream of the mini-gorge. He was fishing a small pool, and also having no luck. We both continued on upstream, fishing pools as we came to them. One set of pools looked especially nice and I fished upstream of Bill, each of us casting into some shady pools just under some rocks. I was using a bigger-than-usual Hendricks. Suddenly, on one of my casts, WHAM! The fly hit the water and a fish hit the fly. I grabbed the slack line with one hand and tried to pull it in so I could use my reel, but I wound up playing him with the line. I called to Bill to come with his net while I let the fish do his thing in the pool. He put up a nice fight, diving and twisting, before Bill arrived and got the net under him. A nice 12-13 inch rainbow. Bill got a picture and then we let the fish go back into a small pool. It took him a while, but he recovered and started to look for a way out. We had to help him back into the main stream. My first fish on a fly.
After that, I fished another pool upstream while Bill kept working the lower pool. He saw a big one in there and had him a couple of time, but the fish spit out the fly both times and Bill never managed to snag him. After a bit, we headed upstream some more. Just above the old bridge crossing, where Chip and I had exited the river for the road, we decided to stay on the water and went up the east side of a large island. It was a really nice area. The whole section was more isolated from the road than other parts of the river and the island itself appeared to be a good spot for a future campsite. The river was a bit narrower, but full of promising pools. Unfortunately, none of them yielded any fish for us, so we kept on walking. Finally, we fished a big flat above the island, and then got back on the road to head back to camp. We were behind a large group of folks just in for a walk, but passed them when they went down to the river.
Back at camp, I fetched some Tubabrews (Black & Blue Berry Mead) and we had those with a late lunch and relaxed. The sky had been threatening all day, even showering a bit every so often, so we eventually decided to set up camp. The tents went up and we proceeded to get on with our evening. We did a bit more fishing down in the gorge and some rope swinging. At one point, I was fishing in the upper portion of the gorge and Bill was down below. I heard the slap of a beaver tail and looked to see TWO beavers swimming about, down by Bill. Mrs. Beaver!
Finally, we decided to call it quits and have some supper. Rice for me, freeze-dried chili for Bill, and Tubabrew (Mom's Apple Pie Mead) to drink. Yum! For desert, marshmallows and M&Ms. For entertainment, marshmallow sacrifices. Around 10PM, we called it a day and headed to the tents. A storm came in over night and poured rain, but the tents did their duty and kept us dry.
The next day, I woke at 6, intending to go fishing. I changed my mind, but around 6:15 I heard voices down at the water. I crawled out of the tent and looked to see two guys down there fishing. I decided to make my presence known, to "claim" our side of the gorge, so I hauled on my boots, grabbed my gear, and went down to the water. After a bit of fishing (no luck), I went back up to the camp for breakfast. Bill was up and the two of us took our time with a relaxed meal. We packed up afterwards and headed downstream, intending to fish our way back to the cars. We went a good ways, but finally decided to head up to the road and take the easy way out. At the ford, we crossed over to the campsite and checked it out. It seemed to be a nice place - bathroom/shower house, big fields, picnic tables, etc. Finally, back to the cars and home.
