Took up trip up [redacted] Canyon a while back; found this pocket water stream scoutin deer a few weekends ago, unfortunately I have to wait till next year to stock the larder with venison cause my dumbass didn’t realize there aren’t over the counter tags for whitetail in Arizona, lottery only bitches.  Anyway, I found this here creek and two, count ‘em two  water filled abandoned gravel pits- struck fuckin’ pay dirt out here in the Sonora. The stream looked pretty clear, and I checked out the ponds, and apparently both get stockings, of what Game and Fish ain’t clear. So with that in mind, I loaded up my fag bag with a trout box and a bluegill box.

For flies, I’m pretty selective and downright onery about what flies I use. For ‘gills, I stick to the bluegill purist adage of “if it ain’t foam, leave it at home”; likewise I am exacting for my trout flies, either an elk hair caddis or an adams, sizes small, medium and large.

(So’s I don’t get confused)

I made my first stop at the Circle K for provisions, mainly a Manchula Chilli Pepper Meat Missile, mini donuts and a few Tecate, Bud Light, PBR, Miller High Life tallboys.

Then went through the gate to Gravel Pit Pond, and was greated by this:

Which makes me feel pretty good you know, cause in my neck of the woods you’ll go bow-legged and blind lookin for water.

I got down to business on bank. When bluegillin’, habitat is crucial; you have to know what the signs are of a good bluegill pond:

(Power Bait and Bobbers, check, this one’s promising)

(Empty 40oz, this pond is GOLD!!!!!!!!!!!)

 I carefully noticed that the large green grasshoppers were jumping into the water to get away from me, and thus I tied on a #8 green foam popper, then one with the rubber legs. I worked the structure a bit, working that popper, thinking great thoughts. I’m currently at work on my magnum opus Selective Bluegill and Flies that Catch Them, it’s an 1,100 page tome with one paragraph about fishing around weeds, and logs and rocks and shit, then 1,099 full color photos of this green foam popper with rubber legs. I could probably get Orvis to retail it for $99.00

After about three hours of casting around this pond and seeing no action, I figured the bank apes must have followed the stocking truck in and cleaned it out. No matter, I still had that tout sweet pocket water. I piled back into the truck and tore up the road for the Canyon.

Getting there, I was feelin a bit peckish, so a delicious streamside lunch was in order.

The Meat Missile had a nice vineagary tang, along with some heat from ground chilli; unfortunately I must deduct points for the bits of bone and gristle inside that thing. The High Life was dependably itself, a nice complement to the Meat Missile. Finishing off the repast with a sleeve of Donettes as a fine dessert and also well accompanied by the High Life.

This is the type of water it is, shallow, with some decent pools

Not sure if it gets stocked or not- it’s a free flowing stream on the Mexican Border, what more could you ask for, besides remembering to bring your piece.

Anyway, I worked up this creek about a mile or two, rock hopping on up, fishing with my dependable caddis and adams.

(Shake it, Shake It Baby)

I worked a nice series of plunge pools,

 

but no dice on the troutski’s, so what, I’ll be back next weekend.

(A Sure Sign of Success)

And since I caught them this weekend in Tucson, I leave you with Calexico, doesn’t get more old timey than a pedal steel and a mariachi horn section

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