Westfield River with Bill
Where: Westfield River (Mr. Beaver's Paradise)
When: 9/21/96-9/22/96
With: Bill
I was sorely in need of some woods time, so when the opportunity presented itself for a weekend trip I took it. Though I'd been yearning for a solo hike, I decided to give Bill a call to see if he and/or Tom would be interested and available for a trip. I was only giving them a few days notice and I didn't really expect much, but I felt I owed it to them. The last time I talked with Bill, he'd seemed really in need of a camping trip. Good thing I called, because it turned out that he was free for the weekend. Debby & Kevin were off to Maine! There was a small matter of finding someone to take care of the cats, but that was resolved quickly and we made plans to meet in Chesterfield. Tom was iffy, because of some recent toe surgery.
Saturday morning I was on the road by 7. After several days of heavy rain and cool temps, the forecast was for sun and warmth. I made the mistake of taking a new route to Chesterfield and wound up crawling along route 10 to Northhampton before finally breaking free. I hauled butt up 143 and managed to arrive at the Chesterfield post office right at 9. No sign of Bill, so I parked and watched Chesterfield go about its Saturday morning business (a PTO raffle on the PO porch, folks playing tennis, etc.). Bill showed up about 20 minutes later and said he'd seen me pulling in, but had gone off in search of a fishing license. It took some doing but he'd found one, along with some good bait & tackle shops.
We drove to the usual parking spot, found one car already there, packed up, and headed in. As advertised, the day was warm and sunny. Down in the camping area we spotted a tent on the riverbank, but no other sign of people. The water was higher than the last time, probably due to the recent rain, but we had no trouble crossing at the ford. My new waders worked just fine, thank you. On the other side, we strolled up the road, recrossed the river just below the gorge, and made our way up to the campsite. No one else there, so we claimed it for ourselves.
It was too nice a day for hurry, so we took our time and relaxed a bit before gearing up for some fishing. As in the past, we started above the gorge and worked our way upstream. My goal was to hit some of our usual spots and try to find a power line crossing, where my canoe river guide had said there were good campsites. We found some spots to start and then leap-frogged each other as we moved up-river. Several spots looked promising, but we had no luck until we came to the hole where I'd caught a fish last year. Climbing a rock, I spotted a good sized fish swimming by and Bill and I both started casting into the pool, working it from several different angles. We tried a number of spots and flies, but had no action. Bill headed upstream and disappeared around a bend in the river. I got above the pool and planned to try a few last casts, but found I'd lost my fly somewhere along the way. Reaching into my fly wallet, I pulled out a fairly large green fly, tied it on, and tossed it into the water. Wham! A fish hit it and was hooked. I turned and called to Bill, but he didn't hear me. As the fish dove and swam, I climbed down from the rock I was on and got my net ready. Almost slipped and fell at least once, but I managed to keep my feet and played the fish into the shallows. He was HUGE! A rainbow, at least 15 inches, and plump. I got him into the net, got the hook out (it was in his lip and in pretty good), and then tried to get Bill one more time. Finally I just thanked the fish for the fun and let him go.
I walked upstream, found Bill, and told him of the fish. We fished a bit more, without luck, then got up on the road and walked upstream to a large pool. Some deep spots along one bank seemed promising, so we headed to them and tried our casts. Nothing at first, then Bill got a strike and pulled in another beautiful rainbow trout, a bit smaller than mine but a good size anyway (12-13 inches). He even had an audience - some passing bikers. He took a picture and then watched the fish swim away. At last, he'd caught a fish in the Westfield. Figuring there were more fish in there, we continued casting. I got a number of small strikes, but nothing hooked. Bill, on the other hand, got another beauty (again, a rainbow).
So as not to seem greedy, we left the pool and got back up on the road in search of new spots and the power lines. We wound up walking a good ways, noting a number of small pools but nothing worth stopping for. After a bit, we decided it was getting late so we turned back, intending to fish our way downstream. Never did find the power lines. A section of the river where we were looked like a good fishing spot, so we headed down. Bill tried a section at the base of a small riffle, while I worked downstream a bit. I was a good ways down when I heard "Fish On!" and turned to see Bill's pole bent. I headed back upstream with my net as quickly as possible and helped him land another large rainbow. The spot seemed good, and I was tired of having to backtrack with my net all the time, so I thought I'd see what I could do on the other side of the river, near Bill's riffle. After a while however, I gave up and headed back down river. This time, I was WAY down (at least a hundred yards) when the "Fish On" call came again. Once more I scrambled upstream and arrived with my net to find Bill playing one very feisty fish. It had found a deep pool and showed no interest in coming up. It took a good while, but Bill managed to get him close enough for me to net, and as he hit the net, the fly came out. He'd barely been hooked. This was Bill's biggest rainbow of the day, though I still think my one fish was bigger.
We took that as a sign to quit and headed back down along the road to our camp. We intended to fish some more but never did. Back in camp, we changed out of the waders, set up the tents, and got dinners going. Thanks to a lack of both Coleman fuel and gasoline, I was using a gas/oil mix (intended for my chainsaw) in my stove. It was dirty and not very hot, but it did the trick and soon we were both dining on freeze-dried dinners, accompanied by a couple of bottles of red wine and some smoked salmon. After dinner, we sat around the fire and just enjoyed the evening and the stars. We made an attempt at some night fishing in the gorge, but abandoned that quickly and headed to bed. An owl in the woods entertained us with a distant hoot and then apparently (judging by the sound) flew into one of the trees above our tents to continue its serenade.
Next morning, we were up around 6:30 and immediately went down to the gorge to fish. We circled the area, fishing both shores. I spotted one fish and we both saw several rises, but we didn't get a single bite. After 2 1/2 hours, we quit and headed up to the camp for breakfast. Bill needed to get home, so we packed up afterwards and walked out on the road. We discussed stopping to fish at the campground, but another gentleman was already there, so we just crossed and headed to the cars. As we walked back, we spotted the folks camping in the tent on the riverbank - a young guy/girl. They were packing up also and wound up walking out behind us.
So the final tally: five big fish and much enjoyment. Bill agreed that he'd gotten his money's worth from his fishing license. By his own assessment, those were the four largest fish he'd ever caught on a fly, and he caught them all in one day, on one river, in the space of a couple of hours. Not bad.
After we left the area, I had one last adventure for the trip. Back in Chesterfield, I crossed 143 and continued north (on North Street?), rather then heading back toward Northhampton. According to my maps, the road paralleled the river and connected to route 9 just east of a state forest at a bend in the Westfield. I hoped to spot some access points to the river along the road. At first, the road was just a pretty country road, with scattered houses and farms. A few miles in, the woods closed in and at a house right at the forest edge there was a big, black dog. The dog watched as I approached, then jumped up and came at the car. Keeping my eye on the dog, I sped up a bit and went into the woods at a good clip. Because I was watching the dog, I didn't notice that the pavement had ended at the forest edge. Suddenly I was bouncing along on a dirt lumber road. It caught me off-guard and I went a ways in before I finally stopped to assess the situation. I debated turning around, but the road seemed passable and it WAS on several maps, so I figured it was probably all right to keep going. I questioned my choice a few times as I bumped slowly through the woods, hoping I wouldn't break down, but eventually the pavement did return and I found myself right were I wanted to be. I hadn't found any accesses to the river, but it had been an interesting ride.
When: 9/21/96-9/22/96
With: Bill
I was sorely in need of some woods time, so when the opportunity presented itself for a weekend trip I took it. Though I'd been yearning for a solo hike, I decided to give Bill a call to see if he and/or Tom would be interested and available for a trip. I was only giving them a few days notice and I didn't really expect much, but I felt I owed it to them. The last time I talked with Bill, he'd seemed really in need of a camping trip. Good thing I called, because it turned out that he was free for the weekend. Debby & Kevin were off to Maine! There was a small matter of finding someone to take care of the cats, but that was resolved quickly and we made plans to meet in Chesterfield. Tom was iffy, because of some recent toe surgery.
Saturday morning I was on the road by 7. After several days of heavy rain and cool temps, the forecast was for sun and warmth. I made the mistake of taking a new route to Chesterfield and wound up crawling along route 10 to Northhampton before finally breaking free. I hauled butt up 143 and managed to arrive at the Chesterfield post office right at 9. No sign of Bill, so I parked and watched Chesterfield go about its Saturday morning business (a PTO raffle on the PO porch, folks playing tennis, etc.). Bill showed up about 20 minutes later and said he'd seen me pulling in, but had gone off in search of a fishing license. It took some doing but he'd found one, along with some good bait & tackle shops.
We drove to the usual parking spot, found one car already there, packed up, and headed in. As advertised, the day was warm and sunny. Down in the camping area we spotted a tent on the riverbank, but no other sign of people. The water was higher than the last time, probably due to the recent rain, but we had no trouble crossing at the ford. My new waders worked just fine, thank you. On the other side, we strolled up the road, recrossed the river just below the gorge, and made our way up to the campsite. No one else there, so we claimed it for ourselves.
It was too nice a day for hurry, so we took our time and relaxed a bit before gearing up for some fishing. As in the past, we started above the gorge and worked our way upstream. My goal was to hit some of our usual spots and try to find a power line crossing, where my canoe river guide had said there were good campsites. We found some spots to start and then leap-frogged each other as we moved up-river. Several spots looked promising, but we had no luck until we came to the hole where I'd caught a fish last year. Climbing a rock, I spotted a good sized fish swimming by and Bill and I both started casting into the pool, working it from several different angles. We tried a number of spots and flies, but had no action. Bill headed upstream and disappeared around a bend in the river. I got above the pool and planned to try a few last casts, but found I'd lost my fly somewhere along the way. Reaching into my fly wallet, I pulled out a fairly large green fly, tied it on, and tossed it into the water. Wham! A fish hit it and was hooked. I turned and called to Bill, but he didn't hear me. As the fish dove and swam, I climbed down from the rock I was on and got my net ready. Almost slipped and fell at least once, but I managed to keep my feet and played the fish into the shallows. He was HUGE! A rainbow, at least 15 inches, and plump. I got him into the net, got the hook out (it was in his lip and in pretty good), and then tried to get Bill one more time. Finally I just thanked the fish for the fun and let him go.
I walked upstream, found Bill, and told him of the fish. We fished a bit more, without luck, then got up on the road and walked upstream to a large pool. Some deep spots along one bank seemed promising, so we headed to them and tried our casts. Nothing at first, then Bill got a strike and pulled in another beautiful rainbow trout, a bit smaller than mine but a good size anyway (12-13 inches). He even had an audience - some passing bikers. He took a picture and then watched the fish swim away. At last, he'd caught a fish in the Westfield. Figuring there were more fish in there, we continued casting. I got a number of small strikes, but nothing hooked. Bill, on the other hand, got another beauty (again, a rainbow).
So as not to seem greedy, we left the pool and got back up on the road in search of new spots and the power lines. We wound up walking a good ways, noting a number of small pools but nothing worth stopping for. After a bit, we decided it was getting late so we turned back, intending to fish our way downstream. Never did find the power lines. A section of the river where we were looked like a good fishing spot, so we headed down. Bill tried a section at the base of a small riffle, while I worked downstream a bit. I was a good ways down when I heard "Fish On!" and turned to see Bill's pole bent. I headed back upstream with my net as quickly as possible and helped him land another large rainbow. The spot seemed good, and I was tired of having to backtrack with my net all the time, so I thought I'd see what I could do on the other side of the river, near Bill's riffle. After a while however, I gave up and headed back down river. This time, I was WAY down (at least a hundred yards) when the "Fish On" call came again. Once more I scrambled upstream and arrived with my net to find Bill playing one very feisty fish. It had found a deep pool and showed no interest in coming up. It took a good while, but Bill managed to get him close enough for me to net, and as he hit the net, the fly came out. He'd barely been hooked. This was Bill's biggest rainbow of the day, though I still think my one fish was bigger.
We took that as a sign to quit and headed back down along the road to our camp. We intended to fish some more but never did. Back in camp, we changed out of the waders, set up the tents, and got dinners going. Thanks to a lack of both Coleman fuel and gasoline, I was using a gas/oil mix (intended for my chainsaw) in my stove. It was dirty and not very hot, but it did the trick and soon we were both dining on freeze-dried dinners, accompanied by a couple of bottles of red wine and some smoked salmon. After dinner, we sat around the fire and just enjoyed the evening and the stars. We made an attempt at some night fishing in the gorge, but abandoned that quickly and headed to bed. An owl in the woods entertained us with a distant hoot and then apparently (judging by the sound) flew into one of the trees above our tents to continue its serenade.
Next morning, we were up around 6:30 and immediately went down to the gorge to fish. We circled the area, fishing both shores. I spotted one fish and we both saw several rises, but we didn't get a single bite. After 2 1/2 hours, we quit and headed up to the camp for breakfast. Bill needed to get home, so we packed up afterwards and walked out on the road. We discussed stopping to fish at the campground, but another gentleman was already there, so we just crossed and headed to the cars. As we walked back, we spotted the folks camping in the tent on the riverbank - a young guy/girl. They were packing up also and wound up walking out behind us.
So the final tally: five big fish and much enjoyment. Bill agreed that he'd gotten his money's worth from his fishing license. By his own assessment, those were the four largest fish he'd ever caught on a fly, and he caught them all in one day, on one river, in the space of a couple of hours. Not bad.
After we left the area, I had one last adventure for the trip. Back in Chesterfield, I crossed 143 and continued north (on North Street?), rather then heading back toward Northhampton. According to my maps, the road paralleled the river and connected to route 9 just east of a state forest at a bend in the Westfield. I hoped to spot some access points to the river along the road. At first, the road was just a pretty country road, with scattered houses and farms. A few miles in, the woods closed in and at a house right at the forest edge there was a big, black dog. The dog watched as I approached, then jumped up and came at the car. Keeping my eye on the dog, I sped up a bit and went into the woods at a good clip. Because I was watching the dog, I didn't notice that the pavement had ended at the forest edge. Suddenly I was bouncing along on a dirt lumber road. It caught me off-guard and I went a ways in before I finally stopped to assess the situation. I debated turning around, but the road seemed passable and it WAS on several maps, so I figured it was probably all right to keep going. I questioned my choice a few times as I bumped slowly through the woods, hoping I wouldn't break down, but eventually the pavement did return and I found myself right were I wanted to be. I hadn't found any accesses to the river, but it had been an interesting ride.
