Going Deep

 Somewhere along the way, maybe two years ago, or so, a full sink fly line was dropped in the mailbox. The exact reason it was ordered escapes me now -- I keep busy with the assortment I have. Maybe the thought of getting down to those summertime bass was on my mind. Maybe even the possibility of numerous bottom-hugging walleyes eating a Murdich Minnow was considered. Or perhaps it was a way of filling the empty spare spool for one of the reels. There are folks using this stuff, but it was new to me.

Compared to those colorful and fat, weight forward lines, the full-sink is almost sinister looking. Skinny and black, if I hadn’t known what it was, I might have believed it was some sort of cord for repairing worn holes in a number 4 canvas Duluth pack.

Sink-tip lines have been useful, but this full-sink resided on that spare spool and was nearly forgotten. If getting deeper was a goal, my other sink-tip lines seemed right.

Our local public library hosted a book sale recently, and there I ran into my neighbor, Pastor Don. He showed me a photo of two nice largemouth bass he hooked on his treble-hook-adorned stick bait while fishing Karr Lake. He explained he had another to the side of his canoe that was “this far!” between the eyes. Yes, fishermen are known story tellers, but Pastor Don is a pastor, after all. He also relayed how our dentist friend, Larry S., was a hobby scuba diver and reported hefty largemouth bass living in the lake.

Karr Lake is my go-to for bluegills and usually void of anyone else. I’ve also landed a number of bass there without seriously trying for them. That was about to change; being late summer, it was likely the fish would be deep -- time to let that full-sink earn it’s keep.

Happy to have the lake to myself, I boarded the little jon-boat and rowed out to the middle, stood up and cast to nothing but open water. Seemed strange to cast to no particular target, but I let the line carry my chartreuse (if it ain't chartreuse, it ain't no use) streamer to the bottom and started a slow, short stripping retrieve. There was just the slightest breeze to provide a perfect drift toward the far side of the lake. I always enjoy seeing the old fire tower standing sentinel, overlooking my progress. Beautiful weather alongside a large coffee cup and a little lunch, it was bound to be a fine day no matter the outcome.

Maybe it was the third cast, or perhaps the fourth. One small strip and the thin line was jerked from my fingers. I grabbed the reel and swept the rod back in startled reaction. Fish on! After a fun throbbing fight a nice chunky largemouth bass was netted. And it was only the first. When the drift took me to the far shore I’d row back out for another pass. The bass landed weren’t trophy sized, not “this far between the eyes!”, but put the bend in the rod that we all enjoy. Better yet, going deep worked and I’ve been formulating new plans to use that skinny line more often.

Full sink casting requires some technique. You don’t lift the line off the water because it isn’t on the water; it’s IN the water. After bringing in adequate line to start another cast it takes a few false casts to get the fly out there. And casting may not be always necessary. I considered letting the line lay out there and letting the breeze do the work. Sort of like a fly-fishing version of trolling a lead-core line on bait casting gear. Now that would be a relaxing way to fly-fish, if it could even be called “fly-fishing.”

I can’t say how often I’ll Go Deep, but I know this: it’s better than not fishing at all.