As a kid, I spent as much time as I could by the water. Armed with a beat-up fiberglass spinning rod and an assortment of scavenged tackle stuffed into a World War II gas mask bag, I was set for hours of solitary happiness. Mom would shove a Velveeta cheese sandwich into the so-called “gasbag” as I sped out the door. Usually, the sandwich ended up as bait. Although I did not know it at the time, we were far from wealthy. The term “welfare” means different things to different people. To a nine-year-old living in London, it meant just one thing — if I wanted to go fishing (and that was all I wanted to do), the only way to do that was to walk or bike to the water. Fortunately, there were a number of wet spots within a few miles of home that held fish.
My adventures would often take me to small, overgrown ponds on the grounds of abandoned properties. Two places I never told my mother about were a derelict Georgian manor and a Victorian smallpox hospital. Schoolyard rumors of a pond chock full of fish at a Ministry of Defense site were never verified, despite several attempts. Access to these places was usually through a well-hidden opening in a chain-link fence or by a shin-scuffing climb over an ornate brick wall. Getting to the water often meant tracing an indirect path through tall weeds and piles of debris. I would fish all day, but always left before it got dark. These places were haunted, and the ghosts had actually taken several neighborhood kids. I knew this was true because my best friend, Steven, told me, and he knew a lot about that sort of thing.
There were rivers, too, though they were little more than daylighted sections of creeks that had long ago been routed into culverts as London consumed the countryside. I recall one enterprising angler who caught eels from one of these subterranean rivers (possibly the Fleet), which he accessed by removing a manhole cover. My local river was the Ravensbourne, a short (11-mile) creek that bubbled up from some gravel beds in Keston and dumped into the Thames at Deptford. For much of its course, it ran through concrete pipes and channels, but there were a few spots where an eager young boy could find an actual creek. What I did not know at the time was that the Ravensbourne had been used by humans for over five thousand years and that Julius Caesar had apparently given it its current name in 54 BC when a raven led him to its source (Caesar’s Well). As if that isn’t enough provenance for an abused urban creek, Darwin had used the Keston area to study earthworms prior to his 1880 paper “The Formation of Vegetable Mould, through the Action of Worms” — a must-read for anyone studying organic gardening.
Most folks overlooked these dingy little waters. I might have done the same if I had the money for the bus or train fare. But little can deter a small boy who has to go fishing. Through trial and error, I figured out how to catch fish. Most of the time, I’d get sticklebacks, which were suckers for tiny sections of red worm. The other common catch were ruffes, a small brown fish that you could catch without a hook. They’d defiantly hold onto bits of bread, spiny dorsal fin erect, as they were hoisted from the water. Occasionally I’d hook a bright, silvery roach, a real prize. Anything over four inches was cause for great excitement. By the time I was back at school, such fish had become tackle-busting giants that only an expert like me knew how to catch.
I left the UK over thirty years ago and have all manner of fishing options across this incredible state. However, I still seek out opportunities for a bit of urban fishing. Maybe it’s just a return to simpler times, but I find they provide a unique kind of adventure. The spinning rod has “sort of ” been replaced by a fly rod (more on that later), but the overall approach is much the same. If you are looking to do something a little different or perhaps relive some of your misspent youth, there are likely to be a number of options nearby. You probably have all the gear you need, and if not, it’s easily obtainable.
Locating a Good Spot
Back in the late 1960s, the best way to find ponds and creeks was through other kids. Nowadays, Google Maps does most of the work. You’d be surprised just how much fishable water there is in sprawling cities. San Jose, for example, has two creeks and several reservoirs that hold fish. Another approach is to go to the UC Davis California Fish Website, http://calfish.ucdavis.edu, and use the Fish Species by Location tab. Select the appropriate county in the pull-down tab, and you’ll get a list of watersheds and details on which species of fish can be found in each one.
Once you have a short list of places to check out, it’s best to read the regulations. You’ll want to make sure you aren’t fishing out of season and that the water has some form of public access. You don’t want to go fishing and end up coming home with a ticket.
If you have the time, it can help to do some pretrip scouting. That way, you can check out things such as parking and access and plan how to attack the water. You’ll also get a sense of the competition, which is highly unlikely to be wielding a fly rod.
Rods
This is where things get difficult, if you let them. While urban waters generally hold small fish, don’t assume a smallstream 3-weight rod is the way to go. There are a surprising number of fish over one pound, especially in the ponds. If you want to avoid a premature release, you are going to need to hustle them away from structure. This means a 5-weight rod is usually a better bet. If you plan to fish waters that have a lot of overhanging branches or other casting impediments, a shorter rod is the way to go. Converted to use as a fly rod, a 6-foot spinning rod designed to throw one-quarterounce lures can be a really good tool for this situation. These are easier to use if you take off the spinning hardware and replace it with a fly-rod grip and seat, but you can do just fine by attaching the reel to the spinning grip with zip ties. I wrote about this setup in the July/August 2016 “Gearhead.” Another option worth exploring is a short Tenkara rod. These have the added benefit of telescoping down to 2 feet or less, which sounds handy for sneaking through walls of vegetation. I have not tried one yet, but it’s on my list for 2018.
Lines
Most of the time, you are going to be fishing shallow water at short range, which makes a floating line the way to go. Any of the conventional weight-forward lines will work, though you may want to consider going one or two weights over the rod rating. That will help load the rod when making the typical 15- to 20-foot casts. In really tight quarters, you can employ the bow-and-arrow cast. The conventional bow cast is usually all you need, but a few years back, Ken Hanley showed me a neat way to get longer casts with this technique. Instead of holding the fly, you grasp the leader butt or end of the fly line. You get about a leader’s length of extra distance using this approach. Like all casts, this takes a bit of practice, but is well worth adding to your bag of tricks.
Leaders
Fish in urban waters will often be found right up against cover, or at least close to it, so casting accuracy and tippet strength can be important. Tapered leaders will often help get the fly to the right spot, but anything over 7 feet can be too long in these often cramped waters. One approach is to purchase some ultrashort leaders. I have been using RIO’s Big Nasty leaders, which are 6 feet long. Originally designed for big flies, they do just fine for short-distance urban fishing. Umpqua’s Freshwater Shorty (5 feet) or Pocket Water leaders (6 feet) look like they’d do a great job, too. If you already have a conventional 7-1/2-foot leader, you can cut it back to 5 or 6 feet. I usually cut them a few inches into the tapered section, since I don’t want a skinny tippet. As for tippets, all you need is a foot or so of 8-pound or 10-pound mono. If that sounds too thick, relax. The fish aren’t particularly leader shy, and even if your casting is great, the tippet is going to get lots of abuse from sticks and stones. If all this sounds like too much trouble, just tie 5 feet of 1X mono to the end of your line and go fishing.
Flies
For most lowland waters, you’ll be casting to bass (largemouth, smallmouth, and spotted), panfish, and (usually futilely) carp. Pikeminnows and striped bass can often be found in waters linked to larger rivers and San Francisco Bay. At higher elevations, trout will be the main quarry. Quite honestly, for bass and panfish, a size 4 or 6 Woolly Bugger in black, brown, or olive is all you need. If you want to do some dry-fly fishing for these species, a generic damselfly imitation or small popper will often get plenty of attention. For trout, just use whatever nymphs or dries you have handy. These fish are generally opportunistic feeders, so pattern is usually secondary to accuracy. But don’t assume this lack of selectivity means they are a cinch to catch. These fish live in a tough neighborhood, and like many city dwellers, survive by their wits. Given the nature of urban runoff, it’s probably not a great idea to eat the fish, so go barbless. That should help you quickly and easily release them.
Stealth
The sight or sound of a hominid blundering through the brush or sending shock waves through the water will quickly result in all of the fish heading for safety. Swirls and bow waves are an obvious sign you screwed up. A certain amount of disturbance is inevitable if the only way to get to the water is through a mass of vegetation, but try to be as quiet as you would on more technical waters. Regardless of how stealthy your approach, let the water rest for a few minutes before casting or moving on. A pair of polarized glasses can be invaluable. Scan all likely spots for fish or moving shadows. Largemouth bass can hold very close to shore, especially if an overhanging branch or car part provides some shade and protection. I have seen bass materialize from seemingly nowhere; you’d swear Spock just beamed them down.
Tactical Clothing
A tan or green shirt, jeans, and some hiking boots are all you need for most of these waters. A ball cap helps shade your eyes, which can be a real help when peering into the water. You’ll seldom do any wading, and getting to the water requires more flexibility than most waders can provide. If you do find a place where wading makes sense, I’d suggest packing a pair of hip waders and some beat-up sneakers in a backpack. I occasionally use a pair of DIY hip waders. They started life as chest waders, but mysteriously developed an opening at the crotch following a failed attempt to straddle a downed tree. The conversion was accomplished by cutting the legs off with a pair of heavy-duty scissors.
Pay It Forward
It’s almost inevitable that you’ll end up sharing the water with the local kids. They’ll likely be soaking bait or throwing gear, just as most of us did when we were younger. Most will ignore you, but a few will be watching what you do, especially if you catch fish. You know who these kids are — younger versions of yourself. Take time to answer any of their questions and share some flies with them. With the right kind of encouragement, their next rod may be a fly rod.
Last, but not least, whatever you do, no matter how good the fishing, don’t stay until it gets dark. Ghosts are sure to be watching you from the shadows. . . .
