Last weekend was unseasonably warm–enough in the afternoon for midges and mayflies to hatch and to coax the trout into activity. I was fishing some streams in the Gangwon province and caught a few rainbows that were rising to the surface to take the tiny dry flies I cast out. In winter conditions, catching trout on drys can be tough and often you must use subsurface flies such as very tiny midge imitations to get a strike.
The afternoon weather was warm enough to wear a long-sleeved shirt but after waking up in the morning, my tent was covered with hoarfrost and my wading boots were frozen solid. By mid-morning it was warm again.
The next night I was sitting around the campfire grilling steak and swilling beer with my dog rolled up under the lawn chair when the earth rumbled. It was different from other minor earthquakes I experienced in the past. Since I was camped out on in the sand on a riverside the quake felt more vibrant and alive.
Later back home scanning the old news I read this headline:
Pyeongchang’s Olympic Bid Not Shaken By Tremor
Good. But what should shake the Olympic Bid promoters is that if you are going to host the Winter Olympics you would want some snow and the Southern Gangwon province sorely lacks the white stuff. Except for some dusting on certain mountain peaks and patches of snow on north-facing slopes, there isn’t much snow. Much of the countryside is drab brown and although the promoters put out enormous amounts of propaganda to portray Pyeongchang County as a winter wonderland, it simply isn’t the case.
The same goes for the Taebaek Snow Festival which opens this week. I just drove through there and there isn’t much snow to be festive about.
But the weather reports for this weekend call for some snow/rain so perhaps that region of Korea might be able to reclaim their self-appointed winter wonderland titles–at least until global warming puts it to an end.
Snakeheads are the heavyweights of freshwater fishing in South Korea. They can grow as long as your leg and they are at the top of the food chain in some bodies of water, often shared with largemouth bass. Think of them as a cross between a muskie, a carp and some kind of reptile. Strikes on topwater flies or lures are savage and quick.
Caption: An angler from Daegu caught this snakehead (click for full-sized image) by accident while fishing in a bass tournament.
Native to Asia, they have permeated some river systems in the United States leaving fisheries biologists and conservations groups worried that they will eat all of the native fish and disrupt the balance of the ecosystem. A reasonable theory since they are carnivores that can grow big.
A reverse scenerio is present in Korea: non-native largemouth bass have throughly populated many watersheds and lakes and have found their place among the snakeheads and other native fish. Korean environmentalists are rightfully concerned that largemouth bass are decimating native fish populations (however they are lax to note that overfishing, pollution, and the destruction of coolwater habitats are larger factors for any decline in native fish populations).
Fishing for largemouth bass and snakeheads share very similar techniques and strategies since they are both predator fish that live in the same kind of warm water environment. While fishing for both over the years, I’ve discovered that usually an angler will catch many more bass than snakeheads, perhaps around a ratio of 25 to 1. If you are trying to exclusively pursue snakeheads, it can be frustrating (but fun) shaking off all of the bass that attack your fly or lure.
A recent study came out noting that snakeheads don’t appear to be the dire threat that they were once thought to be:
“Study Says Potomac Snakeheads Not Hurting Bass Populations”
“Invasive ‘Walking’ Fish Not Wreaking Havoc Yet, Scientists Say”
More about fishing for snakeheads can be found here: “Hunting the Snakehead: Angling Tactics from Asia”
Fish pop up in strange places. I caught this Korean brook perch (keokji in Korean) in a warmwater lake last week.
Typically this species of fish is found in in fast moving coolwater streams and rivers so I was suprised to catch this one in the kind of water where one would expect to catch a largemouth bass. They have all the makings of a great gamefish: aggressive on lures and streamers, hard fighters, pretty colors, but one thing holds them back: their size. They are a small fish, only reaching around six to ten inches on average. A 12″ fish is a trophy. Nonetheless they are great sport on an ultralight spinning rod using small Mepps spinners, or on a 4 weight fly rod using muddler minnows. The trick to catching them is to skim the streambed a couple of inches above the rocks and get them to dart out after the lure. If the retrieve is too high in the water column, they to tend be reluctant to attack it.
This thirteen-inch lenok (also known as a Manchurian trout) was caught on one of my favorite backcountry streams. That day there was an active caddis hatch and a simple black elkhair caddis pattern, size 16, was all that I tied on. I only tied on another after the fly was ragged from getting munched on. After catching and releasing 22 lenok after four hours of fishing in the drizzles and a few downpours, I hiked it back semi-soaked and left on a high note. (Click on pic to see the full-sized image)
Last weekend was unseasonably warm–enough in the afternoon for midges and mayflies to hatch and to coax the trout into activity. I was fishing some streams in the Gangwon province and caught a few rainbows that were rising to the surface to take the tiny dry flies I cast out. In winter conditions, catching trout on drys can be tough and often you must use subsurface flies such as very tiny midge imitations to get a strike.
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