Smoke's Creek and the Mid-Afternoon Steelhead Theory
How a theory led to the biggest steelhead I'd ever encountered.
I have a theory.
My theory is that fall and winter trout fishing in Western New York is so good that an angler can catch a steelhead at any time of the day – even with a worm and a bobber.
It's a good theory based on my experience and that of other fishermen in my circle. I sell it to all my out-of-town fishing buddies to get them to come here.
But, like any good theory, this one needed to be tested through experimentation.
Testing the theory through experimentation. Experimentation meant getting out onto the local streams and fishing for hours on end. It turned out to be a trickier experiment than I anticipated. There were two basic problems. The first was fishing when the stream conditions were right and the second was finding time away from the daily commitments of life to get out and fish.
The first part of the problem is lining up the ‘Three Primes.’ Prime time is devided up into three pieces. The first is the water cycle, the second is time of year, and the third is time of day. Those primes start as the territory of Nature. Rainbow trout live in Lake Erie and Ontario for most of the year. But they plow their way up feeder streams to the fine gravel bottomed pools and lay eggs as fall yawns into winter.
Rain and water temperature, the water cycle, are the prime elements that ring the bell in the primitive temporal lobes of the trout. I needed rain – but not warm rain. Once the temperature of Lake Erie drops to below fifty-five degrees then the water cycle begins with heavy cold rains which swell the small streams and large creeks which drain this part of New York State. The water in the streams rises to the banks and boils brown and looks like chocolate milk, this is unfishable water, but it draws the fish upstream. Then, as the rain stops, the water levels drop and the color of the water, equally as important as the temperature, changes from brown and muddy to a lovely inviting emerald green.
That is prime time to fish. The color is just murky enough that the fish strike without caution. Prime time lasts a day or so after each rain cycle and then the fishing degrades until the water is clear and low. interestingly enough, during the spawning season each water cycle lines up two primes.
The third prime is time of day. That one proved to be far tougher to solve. Prime time during the day is an hour before sunrise/sunset until an hour after each. I could barely find time to get out to the stream at any time much less get out in the daily prime. But if you match prime time of the water cycle with prime time of the day and prime time of the year the fishing is glorious.
It is also a once-a-year conjunction for adults with children and responsibilities. However, my theory dictated that you could fish outside of the day prime and still score a fish. I had to find a bracket of time to go out and test the theory.
I fish the south branch of Smokes Creek. A lively, small stream whose headwaters are in Orchard Park. The stream winds through West Seneca and Lackawanna on its’ way to Lake Erie. There plenty of long stretches of gravel runs, and deep pockets carved out of the heavily wooded banks.
When I finally arrived at the creek it was noon. Smoke’s Creek ran low and crystal clear. Despite the low percentage for success, I decided to give the creek a whirl. Not a great time to be out, but this was November in Buffalo and I had at least one of the three prime times. A perfect day to test the theory.
I made my way to the stream and slowly up Smokes Creek casting to my favorite holes and riffles.
Not even a bite.
I didn’t even see a fish or a footprint which would indicate others had fished before me. Forty-five minutes later I wandered back to my vehicle and decided that in order for the theory to be proved as correct I had to modify it. I needed to respect the water cycle. I needed more water in the stream.
Modification #1 to Theory:
Fall and winter trout fishing in western New York is so good an angler can catch a steelhead at any time of the day – even with a worm and a bobber. If there is enough water in the streams.
***
A week or two later and set out again, this time around two in the afternoon. The water conditions were great, and it was late November. I had two prime times. Time of year and time of the water cycle. I was closing in on the time of day prime as well. Perfect.
Nothing.
This time I fished for over an hour. Two sessions and I did not even tempt a fish into a single take. I at least did see one scoot upstream, so I knew they were in.
A change had to be made if I wanted to prove my theory. I had a day off in the second week of December, still well into the prime spawning time, and right after lunch I headed out to Smoke’s Creek once more. My fishing line was not the best for the task. it was made for the lake; thick and easily seen. I did not spool up with fluorocarbon line, which vanishes in the water, as I normally did. So, once at the creek I tied on a four-foot fluorocarbon leader and set out to prove the slightly modified theory.
Modification #2 to Theory:
Fall and winter trout fishing in western New York is so good an angler can catch a steelhead at any time of the day – even with a worm and a bobber. If there is enough water in the stream AND you tie on a good fluorocarbon leader.
***
A few weeks later, I stopped at Dick’s Sporting Goods and grabbed a dozen fresh worms and smaller hooks.
The creek was again perfect, green and mildly high. It runs under a bridge here. But it is interesting that the passage for the water to run under the bridge is not a regular gravel or slate bottomed creek. Instead, the water travels through one of two massive fifteen-foot-high concrete rectangular passages. The passage ends in a short lip and creates a mini waterfall.
This creates a unique space. Two streams of water exit the tunnel and drop a foot into a large pool. The pool is perhaps forty feet across and seventy feet long. The artificial mini waterfall at the head creates both a high oxygen environment, and an undercut. The biggest trout waited right at the bottom of the waterfall for any food.
The right side of the pool is edged by a concrete lip dropping three feet to the bottom of the stream bed. The right side undercut provides cover and food for waiting fish. The fish stacked up on either side of the pool and a ridge of rock in the middle. It is trout heaven.
Two casts into the session my bobber dipped below the surface, and I set the hook. A flash of silver raced out from the left side of the pool, and I had a fish on.
… until the leader snapped at the knot between the small two-barrel swivel. Bad luck.
I tied on another leader, 3X fluorocarbon that I use for flyfishing. The next fish broke off at the hook, almost certainly a poorly tied knot, and the third fish of the day leaped out of the pool, did a flip, then bade me farewell before shooting off downstream.
Even dejected, I decided against packing up. I had no more leader and since I knew there were fish there, I tried for another half an hour to hook into one of them without a leader. The heavy eight-pound test line I use for fishing on Lake Erie proved to be useless. I hooked up no more. I had to modify my theory one more time. But I hooked into fish, and I felt better about the whole theory. Simple bad luck and bad timing had stopped me from proving the theory.
Modification #3 to Theory:
Fall and winter trout fishing in western New York is so good an angler can catch a steelhead at any time of the day – even with a worm and a bobber. If there is enough water in the stream AND if you string your reel with two hundred yards of fluorocarbon line.
***
A massive blizzard rolled through the area on Christmas Eve and buried us under five feet of snow. Temperatures in the low single digits froze out any fishing for two full weeks.
Finally, the mercury rose and touched thirty-eight degrees on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I stood at the back end of the pool on Smokes Creek around eleven-thirty in the morning. The water was low but still stained enough to fish. I also loosened the drag.
When I left the house, I grabbed my worms and upon drawing the first one out of the Styrofoam cup I realized I had far fewer than I thought. I counted seven worms. A minor concern but plenty for a short stay at the spot.
I threaded the liveliest one I could find onto my number ten salmon hook. My hook and bobber arched out in a graceful cast and landed perfectly at the head of the pool -but my poor worm snapped free and kept right on going.
Six worms. I cast my bait and bobber into the tunnel and the worm dropped right into the head of the pool. Instantly I saw a silver flash and a fish was on and gone in a few seconds. She snapped the line.
Big fish, I thought, tying on a new hook.
Five worms. I tried the other side of the pool knowing the big fish was hungry but wanted to leave her alone for a while. I lofted a few casts to the opposite side of the pool and worked on the undercut concrete. I did not draw any strikes on that side but did beat up my worm pretty good.
Four worms. The next cast to the right side, deep into the white water near the undercut drew a strike but not hard enough to do anything but take half my worm. I’d been too quick to set the hook.
Three worms left.
After another eight or ten drifts through the head of the pool the bobber, really just a thumbnail sized orange and white Styrofoam cylinder, ducked under the water. This time I waited. I counted down from three and set the hook.
Bang! Big flash, big fish.
She rolled and flopped around the pool and then attempted to twist the line around a series of rocks in the deepest run. Clever fish. My line screamed out of the reel, and I hung on and hoped for the best knowing I had already lost five in a row.
I got a good look at her and knew she was big. Bigger than anything I’d caught in a long time.
She got bored with tearing up my reel and running around the large pool and decided to head downstream. She leaped out of the water on the way past me. I stumbled after her thigh deep in the rushing water. I didn’t have a net, so I looked for places to land her. Anyplace with a wide gravel bank would do.
Another minute or two and she finally slowed down. She was tired, and I had her close. She was beautiful, and the biggest trout I had ever caught.
I had taken the time to snap photos as the battle had gone on for the past five minutes or so. It seemed longer but I had a bunch.
Finally, I set my pole down and cradled her with my left hand and unhooked her with my right as she lay on her side. With no net and certainly no tape measurer I could not chance getting a solid size. Later I used my pole as a reference and measured it to estimate her length at between 28-32 inches. After one last picture, I guided her back into the current and let her jet away after a minute of fresh oxygen from the mid speed water.
I sat down on the bank and watched as she slowly vanished into the stained water near a downed maple tree. Once she was gone, I headed back to my vehicle and stowed my equipment away. My phone rang and the world caught up to me. I was back to solving problems and thinking about what to make for dinner. The joy and euphoria of the moment scrubbed away almost as soon as it was over.
But I had another few minutes to think about my adventure. I decided to make a final modification.
Final Modification to Theory.
Fall and winter trout fishing in western New York is so good an angler can catch a steelhead at any time of the day – even with a worm and a bobber. If there is enough water in the stream AND if you string your reel with two hundred yards of fluorocarbon line AND you are patient/obsessed enough to deal with an 6-1 hooked to landed fish ratio.
I am not sure if the theory is perfect. Fortunately, I had three worms left to prove it.
***