Rumsey Lake Minnow

Rumsey Lake, spring-fed and shaped like a figure-eight, is nestled on the top of North Mountain in Nova Scotia's Annapolis Valley. It is stocked with 12 to 13-inch yearling Rainbows annually and receives a fair bit of angling pressure during late spring and early summer. What makes this such a challenging spot is the unusual water clarity. I had fished it about 6 times, since my first visit in '95, but only in the months of August or September.

In October, 1997, following a long drought, rivers were low and my annual pilgrimage to Nova Scotia's North Shore rivers for Atlantic Salmon kept getting postponed until conditions improved. Every weekday at work, I prayed for rain that never came, dreamed of the 20+ lb. salmon that would fill the rivers, and each weekend I blunted my disappointment by spending one day on Rumsey Lake. Nor could I find a friend to go with me - despite repeated invitations, my fishing partners were either too busy or not interested.

The first Saturday I caught one 13" trout; the next weekend - none, although I hooked and lost two larger fish. The following weekend, however, things got interesting... I left home at 4:30 am in pitch darkness and arrived at the lake about 6:30 am just as the sun was streaking the horizon. It was cold, bright and calm. The colorful foliage of the hillsides was reflected in the perfect mirror of the lake.

I was using "Jackwhacker", a custom-built Sage (8ft-5wt) rod, in a 14-foot square-back canoe. I trolled a Muddler for a while and saw signs of fish - rises, finning, subtle vees on the surface, but always out-of-reach. Had one strike, but no hook-up. I tried slow-drifting with a weighted Chironomid with no success.

In the early afternoon, cloud drifted in on a NE wind and I moved to the SW end of the lake. My experience had told me that these Rainbows were cruisers, constantly on the look-out for dragonfly nymphs, surface flies and small minnows. The lake has two species of topminnows - the two or three-inch Banded Killifish, and the smaller one-inch Stickleback. I wanted a fly to represent the Stickleback and as I scanned the flybox, my eyes fell upon an unfamiliar pattern.

I remembered, suddenly, that it was actually a remnant of a fly that had been given to me years ago by a German fisherman I once met on the Medway River. We had exchanged Salmon and Trout patterns and this was all that was left of one of his favorite trout flies after being chewed by several enthusiastic Brook trout. The details of the original fly remain dim, but it once had a pair of yellowish duck flank feathers tied in as cheeks on each side at the head embracing a chenille body. After the side feathers had been chewed off, I had tossed it in the box, intending to retie it someday.

I tied it on my 2 lb tippet wondering if it would be about the right size, shape and color, and in a few casts, I had a 15-inch reply in the net. A few minutes later, I felt a heavy strike that almost stalled the 2HP Evinrude. I quickly shut it off and dropped anchor against the brisk wind, then noticed I was perilously close to a bed of lily pads. As I hauled anchor with one hand, the fish headed straight for the canoe. I had to snug the rope quickly in the cleat, then reel furiously to keep the line tight. The fish passed directly under the canoe and I followed with the rod from left-to-right across the bow. Horrors! The rod wouldn't come across the bow - it was hung up on something.

The reel was singing, the fish streaking for the middle of the lake, and the rod bent nearly double before I realized what was up. My anchor drops from a pulley in a hardwood board that extends beyond the bow of the canoe. I hadn't got the anchor all the way up and my rod tip was now trapped between the bow and the taut anchor rope. I started to sweat. The rod was about to break. God, no! Not "Jackwhacker", my favorite rod that had earned its name on Labrador's Pinware River (another story).

Putting the rod between my knees, I hauled anchor with both hands, secured the rope in the cleat, then freed the rod in time to see the last of the flyline pass through the guides. I started the motor and followed the fish, reeling in backing as we headed for the center of the lake. When the canoe was safely away from the weeds, I killed the motor, anchored and rose to do battle.

The 2 lb tippet was holding under the strain and soon I got a glimpse of the fish - BIG! a beautifully-colored male - hookbill, gold belly and scarlet flanks. When he was a rod-length away, I slipped the net in the water and drew him near, but he took off like a wet cat from a bathtub - no way would he come near that net! Two minutes more ticked by and I knew I would have to net him or lose him - too much could go wrong. There were several anxious moments when he was just out of reach, but oh, so close. Every time I put the net in the water, he would find some reserve of strength and turn away.

Finally, I got his head up, towed him over the net, lifted, and the battle was won! Four lbs, 22 inches qualified this Rainbow as my favorite fish of '97.

RUMSEY LAKE MINNOW

Hook: Mustad 79580 size 8 (or similar 3x streamer hook)

Tail: 2 light Badger Hackle tips extending 2/3 length of shank past the bend

Rib: Oval silver tinsel

Body: Light grey chenille

Tying Instructions:

• Tie in tail over barb.

• Tie in rib material and chenille.

• Take thread to head.

• Wrap chenille forward and secure with thread.

• Follow with tinsel rib and tie off.

• Whip finish and cement.

Fishing Tips:

The fly is very quick to tie and durable to boot. Although the pattern was discovered by accident, it has become one of my favorite trout flies. I've used it for ten years with success in lakes, brooks, meadow stillwaters and big rivers. A good technique is to use an Intermediate (I) Uniform Sink line and retrieve with slow short strips. Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

- Random Phrump