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Just retuned from Peakid Mtn Pond and am suffering from a bad case of "Camp-Lag" but I will try to write an intelligible post.
Tues afternoon I arrived at the parking lot of 13th Lake to find a ferocious, guard-dog named Daisy watching over a black Chevy van whose occupant was fast asleep dreaming of gianormas wild Specks. After fending off the security device, I managed to convince sleeping beauty to gather his gear and head into the forest, the vicious security device leading all the way.
After a short walk through the woods, we arrived at the pond to find it like glass. Like kids on Christmas morning, we ripped through the thick foliage to the lair of boats only to find the lair had been discovered and pillaged. The thieves had taken one Raddison, one Sportspal, 4 paddles, 2 stadium chairs and 2 PFD's, 2 boatseats, and finally our gusto.
The criminals did however leave us one boat, 2 oars, our tent,tarp, and two PFD's. Gee thanks guys. 
After dragging out the boat, pitching camp, and making paddles for the "Titanic" (an 18ft Alum Grumman full of bullet holes found on the shore), We finally hit the pond.....about 5 min later the thunderstorms rolled in and our evening fishing was over. Daisy decided eating would be the solution to our gloom....so we eat, and eat and eat some more. Funny how you always seem to eat better at camp than at home.
Morning came with a cold front and a hatch of Grey Foxes. Trout were rising everywhere, but in true fly fishing fashion, we couldn't buy a strike. We tried every fly combo, streamer combo, spoons, jigs, stick-baits....nothing. So Daisy decided we should eat, again we ate.
After lunch, back on the pond, we found a pod of fish working in a rather small section of the pond. We anchored in a spot that allowed us to cast to most all the places the trout were rising and waited. The "Peakid Virgin" decided to tie on a Beetle as a dropper and launched it to some working fish. We then got lost in conversation only to be rudely interrupted by his fly line coming taught by a hungry Speck. Mass chaos is the best explanation for pond fishing. The rod was folded in half, around the backside of the boat, behind his back and then.....you guessed it, a case of "limp rod". Upon inspection of the rig, we found the hook broken at the bend. Mechanical Release
I managed to drive the point of my hook through the lip of a dandy 17 1/2in fatty and the madness began. The fish immediately shot out of the water and danced like a Marlin before diving like a Tuna and attempting the old Steelhead trick of wrapping around the anchor line. While stepping over the dog, fighting the fish away from the dangers of the anchor, yelling god only knows what for no apparent reason, we finally boated our first fish of the trip.
Soon after the "Virgin" was up again and he looked right at me and said, "I think its just a small one." Those who have fished Specks in a pond know exactly what happened next. The 12,000 years of fighting for survival took over and the rod doubled over to show the true strength of that "small one".
The drag was singing, the rod folded in half, the tippet at it max breaking point and sure enough we both forgot about the anchor line...
Wild Brookies 2....Peakid Virgin 0
The next morning we finally got the stink off. Within about 30min on the pond we each managed to catch a couple of decent 12in Specks. Not giants physically, but HUGE ego wise. Unfortunately my fish took the hook deep and was not revivable. (His honor will feed our hunger).
All in all, GREAT TRIP!!!! Enjoy the pics, I surely enjoyed taken 'em.
GBS
Tues afternoon I arrived at the parking lot of 13th Lake to find a ferocious, guard-dog named Daisy watching over a black Chevy van whose occupant was fast asleep dreaming of gianormas wild Specks. After fending off the security device, I managed to convince sleeping beauty to gather his gear and head into the forest, the vicious security device leading all the way.
After a short walk through the woods, we arrived at the pond to find it like glass. Like kids on Christmas morning, we ripped through the thick foliage to the lair of boats only to find the lair had been discovered and pillaged. The thieves had taken one Raddison, one Sportspal, 4 paddles, 2 stadium chairs and 2 PFD's, 2 boatseats, and finally our gusto.
The criminals did however leave us one boat, 2 oars, our tent,tarp, and two PFD's. Gee thanks guys. After dragging out the boat, pitching camp, and making paddles for the "Titanic" (an 18ft Alum Grumman full of bullet holes found on the shore), We finally hit the pond.....about 5 min later the thunderstorms rolled in and our evening fishing was over. Daisy decided eating would be the solution to our gloom....so we eat, and eat and eat some more. Funny how you always seem to eat better at camp than at home.
Morning came with a cold front and a hatch of Grey Foxes. Trout were rising everywhere, but in true fly fishing fashion, we couldn't buy a strike. We tried every fly combo, streamer combo, spoons, jigs, stick-baits....nothing. So Daisy decided we should eat, again we ate.
After lunch, back on the pond, we found a pod of fish working in a rather small section of the pond. We anchored in a spot that allowed us to cast to most all the places the trout were rising and waited. The "Peakid Virgin" decided to tie on a Beetle as a dropper and launched it to some working fish. We then got lost in conversation only to be rudely interrupted by his fly line coming taught by a hungry Speck. Mass chaos is the best explanation for pond fishing. The rod was folded in half, around the backside of the boat, behind his back and then.....you guessed it, a case of "limp rod". Upon inspection of the rig, we found the hook broken at the bend. Mechanical Release
I managed to drive the point of my hook through the lip of a dandy 17 1/2in fatty and the madness began. The fish immediately shot out of the water and danced like a Marlin before diving like a Tuna and attempting the old Steelhead trick of wrapping around the anchor line. While stepping over the dog, fighting the fish away from the dangers of the anchor, yelling god only knows what for no apparent reason, we finally boated our first fish of the trip.
Soon after the "Virgin" was up again and he looked right at me and said, "I think its just a small one." Those who have fished Specks in a pond know exactly what happened next. The 12,000 years of fighting for survival took over and the rod doubled over to show the true strength of that "small one".
The drag was singing, the rod folded in half, the tippet at it max breaking point and sure enough we both forgot about the anchor line...
Wild Brookies 2....Peakid Virgin 0
The next morning we finally got the stink off. Within about 30min on the pond we each managed to catch a couple of decent 12in Specks. Not giants physically, but HUGE ego wise. Unfortunately my fish took the hook deep and was not revivable. (His honor will feed our hunger).
All in all, GREAT TRIP!!!! Enjoy the pics, I surely enjoyed taken 'em.
GBS
She is absolutely one h_ll uva fishing dog and companion to El Sero! Not a lucky dog...A very lucky fisherman... He knows it and truly appreciates it... 
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