Every angler needs a spot close to home where you’re almost guaranteed a fish, regardless the species or size. Whether you’re trying to save a skunk or just need thirty minutes outside after a long day at work, it never hurts to have a cheat code in your back pocket. Growing up, it started with a series of suburban ponds a mile from my house that held bluegill, bass, carp, and the occasional stocked trout. Since then I’ve had to establish at least one of these places everywhere I’ve lived, from the Lake Champlain waterfront to the middle Deschutes River.
In Boston, my new apartment is only a couple of blocks away from a creek. Even “creek” might be a bit of a stretch here- It resembles a kind of cyborg crossover between an actual waterway and a miles long culvert, like the developers couldn’t decide exactly what to do with the thing except to start pouring concrete and see where they ended up. I took a walk along an adjacent trail a few days after moving, spotted a few fish holding in the deeper pockets, and returned later with my five weight. The oil-sheened holes proved to be haven for all sorts of panfish eager to chase down my micro-streamers. Aside from the creek drying up at some point this summer or the catastrophic ecological disaster that looks like it could occur at any moment here, I’m hoping I may have found my first local day saver.
The other fun part about these spots is that they can be an excellent jumping off point for a much bigger discovery. In this case, while heading downstream I was stopped in my tracks by a watermelon sized shadow moving into the center of the creek. It was a carp of respectable size, unaware of my presence and tailing in about a foot of water. My position in a thick stand of brush didn’t lend itself to a good cast, and I watched the fish cruise around the corner before I had much of a chance to respond.
It was the first carp I’d seen fishing the system, but I wasn’t surprised- I’d been hearing about the local carping world for years from a couple of good friends and Boston natives. Conveniently, they were back in town and we had plans to fish a few days later.
Those seven of you that read the blog might be familiar with Franky and Jon from a few other entries. I’ve fished with them all over the place, but they’re both originally from Boston and honed their skills on the waters around where I now live. They’d been fielding the dozens of stupid questions I’d been asking about local fishing for months, and now that I had moved in it was time to take pity on me and demonstrate how real Boston anglers get it done. When the only plan for our day was to embark on what Franky confidently called the “Carp Tour”, I had a feeling I was about to see something special.
Several tributaries of the Charles River around Boston are easily accessible and, according to Franky and Jon, loaded with carp. I didn’t have to take them just at their word for long. The clouds lifted as we walked up to the first pond, and the brightened shallows of the mud flat before us were suddenly alive with dozens of waking dark shapes.
We quickly got to work on the school of tailing fish. Jon connected first with a long cast to a lone eight pounder, setting the tone for the day. I found it hard to leave the pod of slightly spooked carp at first, but as we headed downstream it became obvious why Franky and Jon had no issue moving on. The density of active carp in this section was something to behold. They presented themselves in all sorts of fun fly fishing scenarios, from more long reaches on open flats to sneaking bow and arrow casts to fish close in and tight to cover. I blew way more shots than I’d like to admit, but there were so many fish here it became a “when” not “if” of catching something upon arriving to a fresh stretch of water. A couple of blocks later I fooled a little two pounder on a slow sinking egg- My first Boston carp.
After a few hours of fishing we were properly in the city and still seeing plenty of happy fish. Occasionally we’d leave the river for a couple of blocks to get to the next access point. It’s a funny feeling being in a maze of high rises with a rigged up fly rod and no water in sight, but whatever fleeting awkwardness felt was made up for by the double digit carp lurking at the next culvert overpass.
Before I knew it, we had hit the Charles. The warm Saturday evening had drawn a crowd to the banks and we had to watch our backcasts carefully as we worked the shoreline. Although the carp evaded us here, I got a look at the huge schools of herring finishing their spawning run upstream. There were no doubt some bass around with the presence of thousands of nervous baitfish, but that would have to be for another time. The sunset was closing in and our sight fishing window was behind us, so we grabbed the T back upstream to the cars.
It may have just been another day for my Bostonian friends, but the long walk has unlocked miles of close accessible water for me. I plan on hitting it again soon, whiffing many more shots at fish, and maybe even connecting with a couple of the big ones smart enough to feed out of reach for now. I may have not yet seen the Boston Marathon or walked the Freedom Trail, but you’d better believe I’ll be a regular on the Carp Tour.
