Fishing the Catt... A Personal First Experience

Three of us rode up at 4 am to arrive at the Seneca Indian Reservation to buy our licenses (talk about inflation…$35 compared to $14 last year) and hit the water by noon. With lively conversation and much ribbing from my mates, the 6-hour drive only seemed like two. The river is quite large in places with a western feel, much like the Susquehanna but with smooth ledges or a round pebbly bottom, so it is a lot easier to wade. Water level and color was perfect. One highlight of the day included getting startled by an eight-point buck as he swam up the river towards me. Being neophytes, we didn’t find many fish on Friday and learned later that the bite slowed after noon due to a cold front coming in so the only thing I had to show for my efforts was a zinger with nippers I fished off of the river bottom. Friday evening we met our guides and the rest of our group at dinner and went to bed early so we could meet before sunrise on the water. The next day would be a different story. 

On Saturday, I fished with my new friends Rich Moxley and Jeff Buffenmyer, another Rich (our unofficial camera man) and Gary Interdonato. Our guide Mick Cochrane, from the Neshannock Creek Fly Shop near Bedford, had pre-fished the river so he knew the techniques, locations and flies that would be effective. I was glad to have tied lots of size 16 bead head pheasant tail and flashback hare’s ear nymphs. High stick nymphing was the technique du jour. At least I had done that before. But as Mick was giving a little refresher demonstration, he hooked into a Steelhead completely by accident! The Catt is loaded with Steelhead but you can’t see them unless they decide to breach. Our guides told us that on Wednesday and Thursday that week, they racked up over 100 fish each. You soon learn the type of holding water that they like…deep, usually in eddies or along banks for current breaks or in deep slots between ledges. Soon after Mick’s most impressive demonstration, I hooked into my first Steelhead, but the fight lasted about 5 seconds as he turned and pulled, snapping my 4x tippet. It looked like 3x, 10-pound fluoro tippet (which I later learned probably wasn’t heavy enough either) was going to be needed. At the next hole, I managed a nice fish in a slot and found myself racing down the bank after him past several anglers. I could not comprehend the power and size of these fish (10-15 pounds) as they went airborne. This time the fight lasted a little longer, but I was using a barbless hook and the fish jumped off. Jeff caught and landed a beauty. 

We ventured downstream to a nice riffle area with a deep undercut bank. Several of us got multiple hookups. The most memorable fish took me into my backing on an upstream screamer and then u-turned and went a considerable distance downstream. I lost that one too (this losing-fish-bit is getting a little old, isn’t it?). Finally, I hooked a small but beautifully fresh jack (an immature but possibly oversexed fish) and managed to land him with little difficulty. I got my picture taken with that one, since the larger fish were so tough to land. 

Our guides don’t like to use nets and the idea is to let the fish run after you set the hook and then hold and tire him until you can get the fish closer to shore only to gear up for a second surge. Once the second run is done and the fish has given up, you drag him up on the beach and do the obligatory pictures and let him go spawn. Sounds easy but actually doing it is a lot harder. At one point I had a fish (that I thought was a snag at first) that just sat on the bottom for about 10 minutes and took some short runs.  As the fish started to tire, I got him as close to the bank as possible but I had nowhere to go since there was a 30-foot bluff behind me and virtually no beach. Mick was about to tail him and just at that moment, the fish did a violent headshake and, well…you know what happened. We figured that the entire group hooked 100 Steelhead on Saturday but landed only a handful. 

After having a little too much fun on Saturday night, I awoke at about 5 am on Sunday feeling like I just should have stayed awake all night for all the difference my few hours of sleep made. We were psyched to get on the water as soon as possible to get the best holes since we would have to get off the water at 10 to leave for home. The bead head pheasant tails were working like a charm. I hooked up five fish in a span of about an hour and had some great fights and great coaching from my fishing mates. The highlight Sunday was a true test at multitasking: fight a fish, while listening to Doug Baer’s coaching and flipping off Gary’s nymph that had snagged my line without losing the fish in the process…at least until later. One Steelhead took me to my backing on at least three occasions. Some of the guys were threatening to tie me to the roof of the Tahoe with bungee cords for the ride home if I didn’t stop hooking up so many fish (my trout Karma was working). 

Four hours went by too fast and it was time to leave. It was the most memorable fishing adventure I have ever experienced. The river and blazing colors of fall were beautiful. The fish were feisty marvels and the camaraderie was intoxicating (figuratively, if not literally). I am still waiting for a picture with a full-grown Steelhead. The fish had better watch out…I’ll be back.

The first trip a month ago was just a teaser…many fish hooked, many fish broken off, lines snapped, hooks pulled out, often after lengthy fights.  This time on the Cattaraugus would be different, I promised myself. I wanted a picture with a steelhead …a big one, not a baby. So, I visited Nick at the Evening Rise and treated myself to a new Lamson LA Velocity 3.5 reel and tried some 8 and 10 pound Seaguar floro leader material which I hoped would be more abrasion resistant. I was ready.

Jeff Buffenmyer, Rich Moxley and I  (the unofficial Lancaster Steelhead Association) couldn’t wait to get back to the reservation in New York in November to stalk the Steelies again. The water levels had been very high the week before, but we dutifully checked the USGS gauging stations and saw that the water levels were dropping and would be perfect for fishing when we got there. The weather would be a different story, but we were prepared with lots of warm layers, hats (including Moxley’s Elmer Fudd version), gloves and gunk to put on the rod guides to keep them from freezing up. It was cold, a little breezy with light rain and snow. We arrived at noontime and rigged up and got on the water. The first fish was a baby, still beautiful. Jeff and Mox and I had several hookups and misses or spit hooks. Finally, I hooked into a nice fish. The reel sang out and I was able to keep control with some side pressure. The next trick was to try to get the fish out of the rapids and over a rock ledge into some calmer water. Moxley wisely brought a net along, just large enough to subdue the 8 pound fish and after a couple of tries, we landed it! There were hoots of joy, lots of slime on the catch and release net, on my jacket, and just about everywhere else, but I finally got my picture! I was glad to have the heavy leader…that fish actually bit me and drew blood while I was trying to extract the hook from its mouth. Unlike our previous trip, these fish were more colorful and rainbow trout looking than the fresh chromers we saw the month before. Jeff landed a smaller fish, as did Moxley…no one got skunked. I was happy and everything else would be gravy.

We traveled back to Irving and enjoyed a fun night of great food and libations…enough to not want to fish the next day in freezing rain and drizzle. We drove home full of good memories and tired, subdued chatter as we grooved to some great music. As always, we can’t wait to get back there again.