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In the Lake MOTOSU  --Vol.23--

A Big Silhouette

In the middle of April 1977 I went to a mountain behind Lake Shohji to fish yamame trout. The lake was next to Lake Motosu near Mt. Fuji. A small creek I could jump over was running through the corpse. Its both banks were so thickly covered with bushes that no one noticed it. No angler came here. Fortunately a lot of yamame trout were caught in early spring although it was an unknown small creek. Those wild yamame trout were beautiful fish, characteristic of those living in the creek in the bush.

The weather was fine and mild. Yamame trout appeared very well and I caught a lot. They were nice-sized fish for the creek size.

About 2 o'clock in the afternoon I left the creek in the mountain and headed for Lake Motosu. Although Lake Motosu has often got a different weather from the nearby area it was very fine and mild, too. I drove half around the lake and stopped at the tip of the Nagasaki Peninsula. I watched the lake condition as usual. Not only the lake but also the area around it were very quiet. There was no angler at all. It was quite reasonable because brown trout had hardly been caught since catching one was a popular topic. I was looking around the lake under the mild sunbeam in the afternoon. Nothing happened. All was heavenly quiet. I felt drowsy and began to doze in the car.
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Nagasaki Bay in the evening. The wind ceased and the water surface seemed to split.

Nagasaki in the Twilight

When I opened my eyes it was completely evening. I was still sleepy but looked at the lake out of the car window. The sun was still shining on the water but half of the lake was in the shadow. I could not see through the water any longer. But there was no more change. I felt I had come here for nothing. At the same time the scenery of the River Oshino near Mt. Fuji came to my mind. In such a mild day the fish surely make rises in front of my old bush there. It was 5 o'clock. If I head for the River Oshino from right now I will be in time for evening fishing. No, I mustn't go. If I leave Lake Motosu now I will never know about Lake Motosu forever. I should stay here even if I know it is futile.

It sounded exaggerated but it was the time to make a decision whether I would go fishing to the River Oshino or stay in Lake Motosu. That problem kept me worried for the next several years. A greedy angler like me who wants to follow two fish had difficulty in making a decision. But time passed cruelly. I could not make up my mind on the spot. I got off the car and stood on a big rock to look around. The evening sun was shining softly on the water surface and Mt. Fuji began to turn red. I looked around the water surface thoroughly and looked into the bay in the left. The tip of the Nagasaki Peninsula kept the inner half part of the bay in shade. Somehow I felt something special around there and kept my eyes for a while. Darkness of light and shade gave me a hunch. All right, I stay here at Lake Motosu tonight. So I decided and drove my car to Nagasaki Bay.
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Nagasaki Bay in the morning mist after the first snow. I made it my rule to fish away from the bank in order not to surprise the fish that came close to the bank.

Splashes

In those days the road was so wide that there was a parking space from where we could survey the inside of the whole bay. I parked there and began to put my line to the rod guide, watching the lake. When I finished my work I felt somehow water surface moved in front of me. I stopped my work and stared at the water. It was not my imagination. Surely something like ripples was spreading. What's that? I stared at it when the water surface split again in front of me. Something was moving at top speed. I realized in a moment. No doubt a brown trout was running after a sweet fish.

All anglers could easily imagine how I was thrown into a panic. It was almost irritating to put the fly to the line. I dashed to the lake bank and immediately I drew out the line at the waterside. I cast size 4 Taupo Tiger, aiming at splashes just I had found. It was only 10m away from the bank. Then I retrieved the line to make the fly drift but the fly came to my foot quite soon. I repeated those activities several times but the water surface remained still. I didn't believe nothing would happen again. Where is the fish? When I looked around I found the same kind of splashes in the air 40m to the right and the water surface swaying roughly.

Dragging the line, I dashed to the waterside and cast the fly at the splash point. I retrieved the line several times in the same way. Then splashes were made in the air in front of me. Feeling impatient of my slowness, I retrieved the remaining line and immediately cast the fly at the new splash point. My heartbeat was abnormally fast although I ran only a little. I was absorbed in retrieving the line and casting it several times but nothing happened. Oh, no! Why doesn't the fish bite my fly? Breathing hard, I looked back at the direction I had started casting. Ah, there are splashes again. That chap went back to the first place! How can I do? Feeling as if I were made a fool of by the fish, I came back to the first casting place. But the lake became completely still after then.
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A male monster with green Fiesta in its hook-like jaw.

A Black Silhouette

It was nearly 6 o'clock in the evening but it was still light enough. That chap will surely come. It will definitely come back. I had confidence. It was not sure when it first came to eat small fish like sweet fish and white minnows in the inner part of the bay. Probably it was just before I found it. Because this bay has got a lot of small fish for many years, that chap must come back when small fish settle down.

First of all, I decided to change the fly. I used floating line, which I could easily cast again, whereas the fly went under water. As I could not leave the streamer sunk in the water, I pulled it so that it could drift. Once I pulled it, however, it came to my foot quite soon. It means my fly had very little chance to be found by the fish. Sinking fly was not desirable as far as I wanted to make my fly hit rises like hitting moles' pop-up head in the case of Marunuma (See Vol.20). I decided to use the possible hardly sinking fly. I opened my fly book and chose one. It was a streamer, whose body was made of golden mylar pipe, and yellow, orange and black buck tails were tied as wings. It looked like a spawning-coloured sweet fish. The fly had been tied for bass fishing in the head of the pool of Lake Sagami and Lake Tsukui in the suburbs of Tokyo. I remembered well that it had been floating for some time after casting it in spite of its large size of 2.

I put the fly to my rod and headed for the place where I had found the splashes for the first time. Standing several metres away from the waterfront, I extended the line and waited for the fish to come.
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In January brown trout come together to the campsite of Ohkubo before they lay eggs.

As I used #10 bamboo rod of 12ft, I had no casting problem. As I put on a pair of boot as usual, I would run easily. My only concern was whether I would be able to cast the fly in good timing to the fish that would swim around, following small fish.

Half an hour after my brown trout disappeared the water surface 20m to the right of me split widely. It's come! My chap has come back. I walked several metres and cast the fly at that spot. Standing still, I waited but nothing happened. Then I found big splashes in front of my former standing point. Immediately I retrieved the line and cast the fly again. Bitter disappointment! I should not have walked. I waited for a while but the water surface became still again. What has happened with that chap? It cannot be over. Then I found ripples spreading 40m to the right of me just in the case of half an hour before. It went there again. I wanted to run but was patient to wait at that place.
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My fly wallet about 1978. There were a lot of variations of Fiesta.

Expecting the fish to come back to me, I cast the fly 10m ahead in advance. It could float for a while. Over 10 seconds passed. I wondered whether it was time to cast again or not. Then the water surface only 3m to the right of my extended line moved bitterly. It's come! I picked up the line and cast the fly again on that troubled water surface. I felt that I faintly saw my fly floating. In the next moment a huge black silhouette split the water surface and came out. Large open mouth, hook-like jaw, a dorsal fin and a tail fin like a round paper fan appeared and attacked the fly. Finally that chap appeared. My both hands lifted the rod before I intended to.
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My prospect was right. My strategy was successful. My perfect fishing so far. However, my rod jumped in the air, leaving me a faint touch.

" Oh, no! Why?"

I put the leader in my hand to check my fly. But there was no fly on the leader tip. To my surprise, I had broken my leader.

I had a feeling of black despair. I could not move at all. When I walked up the bank with my heavy feet, it had already been rather dark. I walked up on the road and looked back. The water surface was quiet in the twilight, as if nothing had happened here. I did not want to leave here. But I knew that chap would never come back however long I waited. It disappeared, leaving my mind an unforgettable image of the black silhouette that split the water.

-- To be continued --
2001/09/23  KEN SAWADA
Tranlated into English by Miyoko Ohtake