A Glorious Return to Fishing

It's been more than two months since I've tangled with a fish.  I started to feel like a guy without a hobby.  Life has been all work and taking care of the family.  Good stuff, but for someone who needs quiet, pretty claustorphobic after awhile.  (As an example, I have one kid on my lap, one wrapped around my feet, and one inside of a laundry basket next to me acting like a dog as I write this.)  My back is about 80% better now.  I'm fully functional, but just stiff and sore at times.  We got ice early this year and I've got a little extra time off in connection with Christmas.  With the stars all aligned, I got permission from the wife and planned to spend a day on the hard water.

I got to the lake an hour or so before light.  I set my tip-ups in some of my favorite spots and then started jigging for the pannies.  Just as soon as light appeared in the sky the bottom third of the water column filled up with fish.  I checked the gain setting on the Vexlar to make sure that I was seeing things right.  I started with minnows and got a couple of bumps.  Waxies are easier to deal with, so I thought I'd give them a shot.  I dropped a couple of the white grubs down above the cloud of fish on a  Hali Jig and the top of the cloud separated off and came straight up to my bait.  I pulled in a nice gill, just a little smaller than my hand.  It was like this for the next few hours.  It was kind of like throwing bread to ducks.  They just waited there for the next morsel and then shot after it as soon as I gave it to them, trying to beat the competition to it.

I've tried all kinds of the different Berkley Alive baits and have caught a few fish here and there, but my sucess has been pretty limited with them.  As a matter of fact, I had a little jar of their wax worm baits left over from creek chub fishing this summer and I just about threw it away.  I stopped myself, thinking that I might as well try them for ice fishing.  My only complaint about the real wax worms when I was catching fish after fish, was that I had to spend so much time re-baiting.  I just couldn't keep them on the hook.  Remembering the Alive waxies, I made my switch.  They were awesome.  The fish ate them just as readily as the real thing, and they stayed on the hook forever.  I would recommend them to anybody.  I'll keep them in my kit all winter.  I easily caught 50 gills before the end of the day and I'm quite sure that I could have caught 100 if I would have been targeting them non-stop.  They just kept coming.  About a half dozen of them were huge bulls that dwarfed my hand.  A great day for gills.

We have to back up to the morning to tell the pike story.  After catching that muskie and all of those flatheads on live bluegills, I thought that I was crazy not to try them for pike.  I set one tip-up with a gill on it and was in the process of getting the next one set just 20 yards closer to shore.  I dropped the big brightly colored depth finder down to the bottom on the hook to set my depth.  When I was pulling it back up, I swear that something big hit it.  I felt a brief, vicious tug that left me asking myself, "What just happened?"  Within a few minutes the flag popped on the tip-up that I had first set with a gill.  The gill that I was using wasn't tiny, so I half wondered if he had tripped the flag.  This particular tip-up was a black plastic version of the classic wooden cross type.  As I walked toward it, I could see it vibrating fiercely.  Something big was tearing away line.  When I got to where I could see the spool, I decided that I'd better grab the line quickly because this big fish was about to spool me.  It gave me several powerful runs before I finally steered its head into the hole and pulled it through.  I matched my personal best with this 40-incher.  I got my pictures with the camera set on a timer and sitting on top of 2 stacked 5-gallon buckets.  I'm not sure what happened, but they didn't turn out very well.  The lighting was bad.  Oh well, enough to give you the idea.

I'm pretty sure that pike hit my depth finder just a few minutes before it chomped that gill.  Never had that happen before, but this beast was cruising around that flat ready to sink its teeth into anything that moved.  Pretty incredible.  I'm not sure why, but the gills that I was using weren't doing real well on the hook under my tip-ups.  When I took the time to watch the one set in the shallow hole, I noticed that it was actually floating right back up and laying against the bottom of the ice.  It remained alive, but couldn't stay down or upright.  I originally caught it out of 20+ feet of water.  I wonder if the pressure change messed it up.  I'll probably try to use some shallow caught gills next time.

When I returned to the warmth of my car and my house, I found myself to be exhausted.  I haven't moved that much in one day in a long time, and I've been breathing nothing but stuffy inside air.  It did me good to get back out in the wide open, but man did it take it out of me.  Bed would have been wonderful, but my house was loud and busy when I returned home.  I did my best to keep up with my kids and when I finally put them to bed I promised that I'd be more fun tomorrow.  Well, it's tomorrow, so it's time to go make good on that promise.      

Bent, But Not Broken

I haven't fished in over a month.  I got up one morning in late September and noticed some soreness in my lower back.  Nothing new.  I've had occasional back problems for close to 20 years.  At times it has put me on the floor for a few days straight, at others it has just been an irritation.  Regardless of the severity, I've always healed up within a week or two.  Expecting as much this go around, I went on with life as usual.  Unfortunately, after a couple of weeks I had deteriorated considerably.  The pain increased and I began to walk with a noticable limp.  Next, my body tightened up and went into a strange twist that caused my pelvis to become fixed at an odd angle.  My left hip jutted up and forward.  My co-workers started joking behind my back and then to my face that I walked like a stroke victim.  Two Quasimodo quotes kept ringing through my head:  "Don't look at me, I'm hideous." and "I am not an animal!"  The pain eventually went down my left leg and became quite excruciating.

I continued to work and even went out and fished for muskies a couple of times after my body fell apart on me.  I found that I could get pretty comfortable either sitting in the captain seat trolling or up in the seat on the bow casting.  The wife couldn't help but tell me that this all seemed just a little bit convenient.  Both of these trips were to Murray.  I only saw one muskie.  It made a viscious strike at a buzzbait, coming right out of the water.  It missed the bait and then hung out briefly boatside before disappearing.

Eventually, the pain became so severe that I could barely stand or even sit.  I went on a month long leave from work and Mort put the boat in its winter wrapping for me.  Long term pain is a strange thing.  It changes you.  My view of life was dulled as my energy and focus were sapped with an attempt to just cope.  The smallest task became monumental.  I had to psych myself up for a trip from the couch to the kitchen to do something as simple as putting my dishes in the dishwasher.  My leg would be completely throbbing a minute later when I threw myself back onto the couch.  I would then clench my teeth and hold on tight as the pain would slowly settle back out of my leg.  At its worst, this thing was a pretty horrific and confusing experience.  I couldn't understand how waking up with a little soreness could turn into such a major ordeal.  I also couldn't understand why I wasn't getting better.  It had to be bone cancer or something.

After trips to a couple of different doctors and finally getting an MRI, I was told that I had several bulging discs.  One in particular was pushing on my sciatic nerve.  This was the source of all of my misery.  I was getting the vibe from the doctors that this was just a run of the mill issue and not that big of a deal.  I actually agreed when I entered a large waiting room and saw all of the people in casts, wheelchairs, and walking with the assistance of crutches and walkers.  Even with my limp, I felt a little guilty being in there.

My doctor prescribed a pain medication that really helps.  I realized just how much it helps one night when I forgot to take it.  I spent several hours rolling around in my bed in a constant and unfruitful attempt to find a position that didn't bring pain.  I'm still pretty dependent on that pill to get me through my days and nights, but I feel like I'm well past the worst of this thing and I slowly continue to improve.

As in most trials, a lot of good has come from my pain.  It shook me out of the comfortable womb that I had built for myself.  I think that God was simply telling me to quit sliding through life in your own little world and start reaching out to those around you.  Many of my relationships have improved directly because of this situation.  Getting sidelined allowed me to spend an amazing amount of time with my kids.  I'm closer to each one of them than I have ever been.  I know them better and love them more.  I crave time with them.  I can tell that they feel closer to the guy who used to come home from work tired every evening.  All 3 of them light up when they see me.  Hayden has shown a real tender side in wanting to do little things to help her daddy.  This is a priceless gift. 

Michelle was also amazing right through the worst of things.  I know it got tiring seeing me stretched out on the couch day after day while she flew around trying to hold our life together.  She never once complained and consistently handled herself with incredible grace.  My neighbors across the street have really touched my heart in the way that they reached out to me.  They walked over to check on me regularly and even took care of my fall leaves for me.  My parents are the most giving people that I will probably ever know.  They were great all the way though.  They offered constant support, they took care of the second round of leaves, watched our kids several times, and called me just about every day.  They even gave me crutches and a cane to help me get around. 

It turned out to be an odd ending to a pretty tough year of fishing.  The flatties never really did get very hot for me.  Just when I thought that I had them figured out, they kind of left me scratching my head.  I did okay, but I'm going to hope for a better year next year.  I didn't turn into the muskie guy that I thought that I was going to.  I like to have some gear that I can use to go after them when I get in the mood, but I think that I will pretty much just fish for them in early spring and late fall.  I'll probably chase them a little on the ice, too.  Now I'm going to continue to focus on healing as the weather cools and the ice eventually forms.  The next time I fish, I'm quite sure that it will be through a hole. 

Fall Flatheads

In my past few trips, I've found that you have to get out early, get ready for some fast action right around sundown, and then you might as well pack it in after 10:00 or so.  Fall is here and the flatties aren't acting much like they do in the summer.  The good news is that they're easier to find and pattern.  I've had more action in my recent trips than I had throughout all of July and most of August.  I know that they'll turn off just as quickly, but I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.

I owe much of my success to a young guy that is new to the river.  We both pulled up under the bridge when it started raining a couple of weeks ago and began trading information.  He mentioned a long, deep run just down river from the launch.  I go straight up stream 100% of the time, so in all of my years of fishing out from this launch, I had no idea that this huge hole existed.  Sure enough, even in our low water conditions, the water in this long stretch maintained 8 and 9 feet.  I found that there are a lot of rock bass in this hole, so I've been using them as bait (live and cut) along with my live creek chubs.  I've had luck on all baits.

I've had a lot of fish hit visciously and tear the bait off of the hook.  I think that these have been smallish flatties.  I downsized to 5/0 hooks on a couple of rods and went from locking my reel to using the clicker.  Sure enough, I immediately hooked a small flathead and then a 10 pounder.  I topped off the night with a small channel that I somehow hooked near its pectoral fin.  I didn't know what was going on as I was reeling him in.  This all occured on a warm, rainy night.  I went home wet, but pretty happy.

I got a late start to my most recent trip.  I traded some time with Michelle, giving her most of the day away if I could go at 7:00.  I left the house at closer to 7:30, so it was just about dark when I anchored.  I caught one rock bass that I immediately cut in 2 and dropped under the boat.  I then threw out a good sized chub about 25 yards back.  That minnow was moving nice for me and I knew that it was only a matter of time.  I wasn't set up for even 30 minutes when the clicker on that rod started singing.  I grabbed the rod, let it load up, and set the hook on a nice fish.  It was great to feel a heavy fish on the end of my line.  Unfortunately this has been a rare occurence this year.  The cut rock bass got hit while I was reeling this fish in.  I grabbed the rod with my left hand and made an attempt to set the hook.  Nothing there.  Probably a good thing.  My hands were full.  The scale read 19 pounds when I finally tamed the old girl.

Still haven't bested 20 pounds in 2010, but there's still a little time.  I've got a few more chances before I turn back to muskies.  Not time to put the boat away yet.

Flathead Dearth

I'm going to remember this year as a really tough one for flatheads.  I got off to a pretty good start this spring fishing up river around the islands when the water was high.  My success rate went south at the beginning of July and I never came out of it.  I don't know what could have made the difference from '09 to this year.  I had flatheads coming into the boat on a regular basis last year.  This year I might as well be fishing in my bathtub. 

 

I keep going back to wondering if their numbers have fallen due to over harvesting.  I really hope the other cat guys out there aren't pulling them out.  I can understand a small one here and there, but it makes me crazy to think that people might be taking out the big fish that have taken years to grow to a decent size.  I also wonder if I have just allowed myself to get into a rut.  I'm fishing pretty much the same general spots.  Maybe I need to dedicate a night to fishing completely new holes.  

I did get out once this week.  After dropping Luke off at my sister's to spend a couple of days with his cousins, I headed over to the Grand.  I was on the water by about 9:00 AM.  It was a really nice day to be out there.  Relatively cool and mostly cloudy.  By this time of summer, it's nice to escape a hot sun.  My daylight hours were pretty productive.  I started with the Bomber and picked off several smallies and a skinny 26 inch pike.  When this bite seemed to slow down, I switched to a jig and Berkley Alive minnow.  Good move.  I was able to hit the same spots again and pick off some fish that were sitting a little deeper.  It takes a bit more focus to detect a bite on a jig, but a solid hookset just feels sweet.  My biggest smallie of the day pushed 17 inches.  I had several that were right around 15.  Those fish really fight like giants.  I thoroughly enjoy fishing for them.

I wish that I could say that things went so well for the flatties.  I used 3 different baits-live bluegill, live bullhead, and cut sucker.  The live baits didn't get touched.  I got off to a really early start, getting anchored and set by 8:00.  By 8:30 the rod with the cut sucker was taking a bow.  I set the hook on what felt like a pretty big fish.  I wrestled with it for a few minutes and got it just below the surface when the hook and 3 ounce no-roll came rocketing out of the water.  A tanrum ensued.

It took 3 more hours to get my next bite.  I was in the section that I now call the lower arm (because it's just below the elbow).  I had tried a few different spots in this stretch and was finally down towards the end near a pretty big point.  The cut sucker got hit again.  I was completely paying attention and got the rod in hand in no time.  The fish was still pulling fiercely, so I let her have it.  The bait pulled out of her mouth just as clean as Irish Springs.  Son of a mother!  What the what?!  Holy roller!  What is going on?!  I wanted to start throwing all of my stuff into the river.  I didn't.  I put everything neatly away and headed for the launch praying for forgiveness for all of those swearing words that the raccoons had to listen to. 

A sheriff deputy pulled up as I was getting the boat locked down on the trailer.  He asked me if I had been fishing.  I refrained from being sarcastic with him and just answered his question about how I had done.  I went into too much detail and I could see that his attention was wandering.  I told him goodnight and that I'd be leaving shortly.  Off he went.  

I'm not sure when I'll get out next.  Mort came over today to help change the water pump.  I'm glad he did because we had some trouble getting the lower unit off and he was the one who finally figured out what our problem was.  When we finally pulled the housing off and looked inside, we could see that the old impeller was in really rough shape.  I'm lucky that it was still pushing any water at all.  Unfortunately, West Marine gave us the wrong impeller kit so it's going to be another 5 days before we can get our hands on the correct one.  If I have to miss a week on the water, it will be worth it to know that we're keeping the motor in good shape.  We've learned a lot about our motor through this whole process and I think that we'll take a lot better care of it as a result.  That will give me a lot more nights to come home frustrated from getting my @$$ kicked by the flatties.

Too Much of A Good Thing

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I had last Friday off.  The plan, of course, was to spend the day and evening on the river.  As I prepared for my day out, I got to thinking that it would be fun to get out a couple of hours before light to see if I could catch some early morning cats.  I had never done that before and I've always thought that it would be sweet to do a complete 24 hours on the river.  I kicked around a good starting time in my head and it kept getting earlier and earlier.  I landed on getting up at 3:00. 

Michelle was at school on Thursday night.  I put the kids to bed a little before 9:00, finished packing up the Jeep and boat, and got to bed by 9:30.  She got home at around midnight and I woke up when she came to bed.  The excitement of the long fishing day ahead was too much and there was no going back to sleep for me.  I laid there for about 15 minutes before deciding that I might as well head out.

I was on the river by 1:00.  I fished the area around the bridge for about an hour.  Nothing going on there, so I headed up to the stretch right below the elbow.  I was fishing live creek chubs and one green sunfish that I had picked out of the creek in Dutton.  The chubs were getting hit, but the fish were robbing them off of the hook.  I'm fed up with this phenomenon and I think that I'm about done fishing with chubs this year.  The channel cats are just too good at grabbing them by the head and leaving me with an empty hook.  With that said, my first fish of the night was a channel caught on a live chub.  It went about 6 pounds. 

After I caught my first fish, I drifted to a fresh spot in the same run and dropped my 3 rigs.  The sunfish was on the rod behind me, thrown out of the left side of the boat.  It was up on a shallower flat.  It didn't take too long before that rod was trying its hardest to jump out of the holder.  I reached back and grabbed it, felt to make sure that the fish was still there, and set the  hook.  I wasn't sure how big it was, but I knew that it wasn't a dink.  It turned out to be a 12 pounder.  I like them over 20, but I'd take it.  That was it for the cats.

When morning rolled around, I was already second guessing coming out so early.  I had downed a full thermos of coffee, so on top of the normal hangover feeling you get after being up all night, my stomach wasn't feeling so hot.  I did my best to shake it off as I tied on a Bomber crankbait and made the transition to smallies.  I motored up river from the elbow to a stretch where the bank is dotted with rip rap and rocky spots.  Deer were everywhere.  I must have seen 20.  One was a small buck, but the rest were does with 1 or 2 fawns. 

The spot turned out to be a good one.  There were fish on every little hump of rip rap.  I even had one fish pounce on the lure as I dragged it across the surface after it got hung up on itself.  Something was going on with the largemouth.  Catching one on the Grand is pretty rare, but 5 of my first 10 bass were bucketmouths.  Most of them were little.  A couple were keepers with nice girth.  One 16-inch walleye made an appearance in this stretch.  Another rarity.

The day became extremely hot and muggy.  I became nauseous and miserable.  By midday, I decided to anchor in the shade and catch a little nap.  I set the clickers on my cat rods so that I could keep fishing even if I wasn't conscious.  It turned out that this wasn't necessary because as tired as I was, I wasn't able to go to sleep.  Something about the river and the wind keeping things in constant motion, knowing that someone could come by in a canoe or kayak at any moment, and the fact that the boat just isn't that comfortable kept my brain from going into slumber mode. 

I spent the rest of the day feeling rough and doing my best to keep at it.  I caught plenty of smallies.  In the early evening, I picked up a couple of suckers for cutbait.  Figuring that I wouldn't stay late, I decided to fish around the bridge.  I regretted it after several hours without a bite, but instead of heading up river, I went home.

It was a good day in that I caught just about every type of fish that the Grand offers and I got to indulge in one of those "you only live once" experiences.  I'll never do it again and I wouldn't recommend it.  Things just don't go as well when your head is in a fog and you feel rotten.  The worst part is that it took about 4 days to get normal.  I was still cross eyed and thick tongued on Monday.  I'll have to keep it to 20 hours next time. 

Catching Bait for Catching Bait

I was doing yard work on Saturday morning when the weedeater scared a cricket out from between a couple of bricks.  Hayden and Luke were playing in the yard nearby, so I told Luke to grab his fishing pole.  Hayden came to see what I had.  When Luke returned with his Spiderman pole, she went into hysterics and demanded that we let the cricket go.  "No, he's bait."  With huge tears rolling from her eyes, she screamed, "You kill everything!" over and over at me until I finally sent her inside.  I put the cricket on the hook, dropped it into the little hole behind my neighbors' and handed the pole to Luke.  I could see his line take off, so I told him to reel up.  He pulled up a nice little chub.  Cool.  We dropped it back in and I went back to work.

Not much later, I opened up our little storage shed in the back and 3 more crickets scampered for cover like I had just yanked the curtain open on their changing room.  Luke was still close by, so I gave him a bait container and put him on the hunt.  The boy was in heaven.  He secured all 3 of those crickets and then walked around the yard listening for more.  He found another 3 under the neighbors' trash can.  Hayden intercepted us one more time on the way to the creek and was about to start up again when I asked if she wanted to try fishing with one.  This changed everything.  She was all about it.  Of course, she wanted to keep anything that she caught for pets.  

The crickets didn't stay on the hook too well, but the chubs sure did like them.  We caught half a dozen of them, putting two into an old coffee container filled with creek water for Hayden.  While we were at it, I figured that I might as well get my own bait bucket and put these guys to good use.  Luke sniffed out a few more crickets in my neighbors' yard and I had 8 nice chubs in the bucket before our supply ran out.  Apparently, chubs love crickets but they affect them like a pizza with extra anchovies hits most of us.  I opened the bucket the next day to change out the water and was puzzled to find it full of floaties.  I knew that I had given them clean water just the night before.  A closer look revealed that the bucket was filled with tiny cricket parts.  They turned out to be a bad idea all the way around for those poor chubs.

I carried the pager for work last weekend, so I've got a free day off this week.  I'm planning a 20 hour marathon on the river from 4:00 AM on Friday until midnight or 1:00 the next morning.  Flatties are said to get active in the hours just before light and I've never targeted them at this time of day, so I'm going to go test the theory.  An old friend is going to join me for a few hours while I'm out.  I don't know if the flatties will show up, but I do know that I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.  Hopefully the river fish are hungry for creek chubs with heart burn.  

Pannies at Granny's

We spent part of Sunday up at the in-laws'.  After swimming and a great dinner, I took the kids out in the rowboat one by one and helped them fish for pannies.  Using a tiny jig with a plastic boot tail, I casted out behind the boat and let them hold the pole while I slowly rowed just out from the weed line.  This worked so beautifully for my young fisherkids because all they had to do was hold onto the rod and wait for a fish to grab on.  One second they were looking at the clouds and the next second they were springing to action and wrestling with a nice fish.  All 3 of them had a ball and we caught some nice gills, crappies, and even a few small bass.  Luke hooked and landed his first two largemouth all by himself.  He didn't seem to find this as significant as I did.  I couldn't even get him to do a recap with me that night after I told him his bedtime story.  The jury is still out on whether or not Luke is going to be a fisherman.  Lincoln shows the most interest and stays focused longer than the other two.  That's saying a lot since he is the youngest.  If he can slow down and actually sit in one place for more than 3 seconds, he will probably end up spending a lot of time in a boat with me.  Time will tell.  For now we were gifted with a nice little memory, at least sentimental old dad was.  

Should've Stayed In Bed

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I've been on the river a couple more times since my last post, but I haven't been able to break the flathead riddle.  The smallmouth are eating everything in sight.  I caught 20 in one evening.  Only a couple of them were keepers.  The channels continue to be quite aggressive.  I caught another fish that looked identical to the one that I claimed was a 10 pounder in my last entry.  Yeah . . . it was only 8.  Fresh batteries in my scale proved me to be a liar.  I am quite convinced that it was the same fish.  It even had a fresh wound on its mouth and I caught it out of the same spot.  Man, was he upset to see me again!

My very last trip was a lesson in frustration management.  I decided late that I was going to go, so I was only able to secure about 8 creek chubs and one stray bluegill from the creek behind my house.  I got to the river just before dark.  I headed up to a narrow section that runs a little deeper and decided to troll.  I noticed that the motor sounded different as I was trolling, but it was actually smoother than normal so I didn't bother to turn around and examine it.  When I got to the top of this stretch, I throttled up with the intention of heading to the elbow.  Instead, I heard what sounded like the air brakes on a city bus.  When I turned around, the tell tale was shooting out smoke instead of water.  I immediately killed it.  After drifting in the current and feeling stunned for a minute, I decided to start it up again and see what it did.  It started fine and the tell tale started shooting water as soon as I got it above idle speed.  Still, I didn't think that I should go further from the launch, so I moved down a little bit and got ready to fish the mouth of Bear Creek. 

I loaded chubs on 3 rods and caught one smallish channel on the line that I threw closest to the mouth.  I quickly got hit on the other two rods, but I didn't hook up and they got away with my minnows.  I decided to go with the gill and two more chubs.  The chubs got hit again and were gone.  I was quickly down to 3 chubs in the livewell and the gill that was still out there struggling mightily to get off of the hook.  I didn't have time to fully lament my situation before that rod got a little  extra pull like the plunk of one string on an out of tune guitar.  With that, the gill was gone.  

In less than an hour, the cats had whittled my bait supply down to 3 minnows.  I decided I'd better get out of that spot before the rest of my bait was stolen.  I limped on my lame motor down to the basin above the bridge and fished this area for the rest of the night.  I hooked up with one more channel in the 5 pound range before heading home to figure out my course of action in getting the water pump fixed on the old girl.  The plan that I came up with is to try to get my hands on the parts and collar a buddy who is more clever at this stuff than I am.  We'll see how it goes. 

Just Enough Action to Keep My Spirits Up

I got a chance to sneak out on Sunday after the kick off picnic for Vacation Bible School.  Hayden and Luke have that every night this week.  So far, they love it.  Back to Sunday night.  I got to the river at around 7:00.  I had no bait in the livewell, so my first mission was to catch a few suckers and rock bass.  I struggled at first, but finally found the suckers in some skinny water.  The depth finder read just 3 feet.  I quickly caught a couple and then headed up above the elbow to catch a few rock bass.

I was set up for flatties by 9:30 with a tub full of cut sucker and 5 or 6 rock bass in the tank.  I spent my first hour on that “perfect” spot just above the elbow.  Nothing was going on up there and the bugs were so thick I was breathing them in, so I decided to motor down to the big basin above the bridge where I anchored in 9 feet of water.  I dropped a rock bass right under the boat and threw the cut sucker straight back on one pole and out to my left into the middle of the river on the 3^rd rod.  It was that rod that came to life first.  I noticed the end of it twitching, so I moved into position where I could grab it quick if the fish committed.  It finally grabbed the bait and flew down river at 90 miles an hour.  The clicker was singing like a choir boy.  I knew that it was a channel cat.  I had a huge piece of bait and an 8/0 hook on this rod, so I didn’t hold out much hope that I’d hook up with this fish.  It ended up dropping the bait and scurrying away before I even attempted a hook set.  

I decided to skip the clicker and leave the reel engaged when I put the rod back in the holder.  Before too long, it got jumped on again.  This time it was bouncing violently and I was pretty sure that the fish had hooked itself.  I gave it a good jerk anyway and went to battle with a heavy fish that was flying all over the river.  When the fight ended, I hauled what I think was about a 9 or 10 pound channel into the boat.  I've hit 8 pounds several times in this part of the river, but have never topped it.  This fish looked bigger, but not quite as big as the 11 pounder that I caught earlier in the year down by the bayous.  I don’t know for sure because my battery died in my scale and I didn’t want to make the fish sit in the boat while I dug through my tackle box to find a replacement.  I took the above picture and released the fish healthy.

My only other action for the night was a very small flattie that ate the live rock bass.  I’m amazed at the size of bait a small flattie will take.  It makes me think that a grown flattie will eat a pretty good sized redhorse.  If I catch a one to two pounder next time out, I may just put it out on a 10/0 hook instead of cutting it up.  It might improve my personal best.  I’d be ecstatic to get above 30 pounds.  Might be a pipe dream.  There are probably a few over 30 in there, but there can’t be many.  The only way to find out is to put in my time, so Lincoln and I are going to catch some bait tonight and I’m hitting the river again tomorrow.  I’m still waiting for the big boys to wake up.  Hopefully tomorrow I’ll find them on the feed.  

Best Laid Plans

Yesterday was Luke’s big day to go fishing with Mort and I.  He was hugely excited and went to bed with a big smile on his face the night before.  I knew that the fishing was just  a small part of the excitement.  He was going to spend the night at my parents and then the next day with my cousin’s son, Colton.  The two of them don’t get to see each other nearly enough, but they are great buddies.

My plan for the evening was to spend most of the time still-fishing around the bridge.  I knew that Luke would want to see a lot of fish and this kind of fishing always produces big numbers.  I got an e-mail from my dad when I was at work.  He was letting me know that he wouldn’t be able to fish, but they were still planning on having Luke overnight.  No problem.  Luke and I got to the river by about 4:00.  I figured that he would like to start with a boat ride, so I put him in my lap and headed up river.  When we got almost to the elbow, I cut the engine and started getting my rods ready to troll for some walleye.  Before I could even get them set up, Luke announced that he was “pretty bored.”  I didn’t pay it much attention, thinking that he’d be fine once the boat was moving again.  We trolled around and did a little casting.  We weren’t able to pick up any fish, but I did notice a jointed Storm lure slapping against the shore.  I picked it up and Luke immediately claimed it as his.  He assured me that he’d let Lincoln play with it too.  I hadn’t even mentioned Lincoln.  I was thinking more about fishing with the darn thing.  I relented and took the hooks off for him.  Playing with the lure kept Luke occupied, but he continued to say that he was bored.  I had a pretty good idea that he was just excited about going to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s.  I gave them a call and set up a time to turn him over. 

Luke and I trolled a little bit more while we waited for the grandparents.  We managed to pick up a baby flathead.  It was another one of those gross, blotchy looking ones.  I wonder if they all look like that up to a certain point.  We picked up a smallie just before the grandparents showed up.  I sent Luke on his way, happy as a lark.

There were quite a few boats out when I headed back up river.  I went right back up to the stretch below the elbow, but I had only made one trolling pass before another boat showed up and joined me.  There isn’t very much water there and I was in the mood for some solitude, so I dropped back down to a relatively deep section not far down river.  I hit a couple of my hotspots on the way and picked up a few more smallies.  No size to them.  I trolled until dark and didn’t pick up anymore fish.

For my night fishing, I set up over a hole that was 13 feet deep just up from a big downed tree.  One of my lines got snagged up just about as soon as I dropped it in, so I unhappily cut it and retied.  I was completely set up by just after 9:00.  At around 10:00 I got my first hit.  I set the hook and reeled up an average sized channel.  I had gotten lucky and set the hook up through the bottom of its jaw.  I’d be interested to see just how that happened.  It took until almost 11:00 to hook up with my first flattie.  Just a dink.  It hit on the rod behind me and didn’t move the spool one notch on the clicker.  This caused me to be a little slow to get to it and it ended up swallowing the hook.  I tried that through the gills hook removal method that you sometimes see in outdoor magazines.  It worked nicely.  That little guy is going to have a stomach ache for awhile, but I think he’ll live.  I was still in my first spot when I checked the clock and found it to be after midnight.  I started packing up my stuff when I talked myself into trying one more spot.  I moved down from the elbow and dropped anchor in 10 feet of water on a flat.  Too bad I hadn’t just gone home.  No bites.  I finally pulled up the anchor for the last time at a little after 1:00 and buzzed down river, dreading having to get up for work the next day. 

I don’t know what is going on with the flatties.  Terrible thoughts are going through my head like maybe they have been fished out.  I kind of doubt it because there aren’t too many other guys targeting them.  It is rare to see other boats out after dark.  I do still think that it could pick up.  I’ll blame last night on a cold front and spike in the barometric pressure.  I’ve got some sleep to catch up on before I give it another go.  

Back In Action

Michelle graced me with an extra evening of fishing last night.  After dinner and a little time with the family around the house, I headed to the river and dropped the boat in at about 7:30.  I talked river fishing with a guy who was dropping his boat in when I pulled up.  I think I converted him to a cat guy.

I've been keeping my creek chubs on an aerator in a 5 gallon bucket in the basement.  I checked at a pet store and found this magical stuff that neutralizes chlorine in tap water.  It works wonders.  I switch the water everyday and the chubs stay just as healthy as can be for weeks at a time.  I even dropped a few leaf worms in there and found that they had eaten them overnight.  I may just pick up some fish food.  Next it will be an aquarium.  One thing that I did notice is that the fish bleach out after awhile in the bucket.  I'm not sure if it's stress or just because they are stowed away in the dark.  Despite their pale appearance, they are just as strong and healthy after a couple of weeks as the day that I pulled them out of the creek.  All that to lead up to the fact that I had some 2 week bucket bound chubs in the livewell, but most were on the small side and I wanted to start out catching some more bait.  I tried a few different spots about halfway up to the elbow, but nothing was too interested in a crawler.  After awhile I decided that I'd just trade out my 10/0 hooks for 7/0's and fish the chubs.

Remembering the guy who caught the big smallie on  a frog my last time out, I grabbed a bass hook and my Ribbit frogs.  I only had two.  I fished them around a few snags without stirring up anything when I remembered a nice eddie down at Bear Creek.  I motored down and drifted into place even with the creek.  Nothing showed itself in the heart of the mouth, but I got a good swirl when I dragged the frog across that eddie.  I threw the frog again and it got snatched up immediately.  I set the hook and pulled back nothing but limp line.  It must have been a pike.  I stupidly tied on my last frog and dragged it back across the eddie.  The pike pounded it and tore off one leg.  On the subsequent cast it tore off the other leg.  The third time I threw out that crippled frog, the pike grabbed it and once again left my cut monofilament flapping in the wind.  I had a crawler harness on a different pole, so I hooked up a chub and dragged it through there a few times.  The pike ignored it.  I finally decided to tie on a Jitterbug.  On the first cast I saw a swirl about 8 feet away from my bait and then the pike porpoised on it and dragged it down.  It was a 30-incher, but it was pale and skinny as a snake.  I skipped the picture and released it strong.

With the sun setting, I scurried up river and set anchor just up from a huge snag that sits right on the elbow.  It was quiet for a good hour and then just as the moon was clearing the line of trees to the north, I got a hit on one of my rods.  It was a little flattie.  I released it, hooked on one of two rockbass that I had managed to pick up, and dropped it just behind the boat.  It got hit immediately by the twin of my first fish.  I didn't even have that rod back in the water before another rod got thumped and started bending.  This one was bigger, but not much.  I had apparently set anchor over a flathead nursery.  I waited around another hour for mama to show up, but she didn't make an appearance.  I spent one more hour near the bridge, but it was a waste of time.

It's good to see that the flatheads are turning on again.  Tomorrow night Mort and I are taking Luke out.  He and Mort will fish the before dark portion of the night with me, and then I'll get back after the cats.  I brought the kids to the park tonight and loaded up on some big chubs.  Here's to hoping that they get munched by monsters tomorrow night at about this time.

Tuesdays With Morty

Mort and I picked a perfect summer day last week to get back out on the river.  We fished the normal stretch up from the West River launch.  The sky was filled with huge, billowing clouds. They almost looked like they could hold some rain, but we never got a drop.  It was hot when I started out early in the afternoon, but it cooled quite a bit by the time I picked up Mort at a little after 5:00. 

I had committed my alone time to fishing for smallies and walleye.  I ended up spending most of the time trolling for eyes.  I tried a chartreuse Wally Diver and a crawler harness with a Berkley Alive worm in place of a live crawler.  I thought that it would hold up better against the snaggy bottom.  I ran through all of the deep lanes, spending a solid couple of hours plodding my way up river.  I believe that I briefly had a walleye on the crawler harness, but it was gone after a few head shakes.  Not much of a pay off for all of my efforts.  For the sake of being able to say that I had caught fish when I picked up Mort, I spent the last hour drifting and casting for smallies.  I caught 3 or 4 before heading down to the launch to meet him. 

When I picked up Mort, I suggested that we continue the pursuit for walleye.  He was game.  I gave him the rod with the Wally Diver on it and I continued to troll the crawler harness.  I was still letting my line out when he announced that he had a fish.  It turned out to be a 16 inch walleye.  It was the first walleye that we had seen come out of that part of the river in a long time, so we were quite pleased.  I think that I'm going to focus on them a little more throughout the rest of the summer.  I'm starting to hear stories that guys are doing well for them around there. Later that evening we saw a couple of old boys floating leeches along the bridge pylons under slip bobbers.  They reported that they had also caught a 16-incher.

We spent most of the rest of the evening still-fishing just up and then just down from the bridge.  Mort fished crawlers and I decided to lip hook some smaller creek chubs on a one hook crawler harness.  I figured that the current would spin the blade as it sat stationary at the bottom of the river.  The smallies were hot.  They were jumping on the worms and the chubs.  We caught several.  Most of them were smallish.  Our biggest was a 15 incher that bit on a chub.  This fish really had some shoulders and was built like a football.  It stayed deep like a hog.  I was pretty impressed when I saw that it wasn't a very big fish. 

While we were fishing just down from the bridge, we saw a guy fishing a frog in some slow brackish water that pooled around a small snag.  He threw the frog into the snag and began to steadily bring it back.  When it had just cleared the wood, a big smallie came completely out of the water after it.  She completely missed the frog on her first attempt, but came right back and got hooked up.  The guy said that he had caught another nice one in the very same place earlier in the week.  I think that I still have a couple of those Ribbit frogs.  Something to try.

The flatties are still off, or I have completely lost my touch.  I fished deep water around some beautiful snags.  I used live chubs and cut sucker.  Neither got touched.  At closer to midnight I moved up into the flat next to the snaggy holes looking for some cruisers.  Nothing up there either.  I anchored one last time just above the bridge.  When my third spot didn't produce a whisper of a hit, I finally packed it in.  July has been cruel to me in regards to flatheads.  I've probably just got one more chance to avoid a big goose egg for the whole month.  I may try to get my hands on some different types of bait to better my chances.  I've still got a good supply of chubs, but I'll probably try to get some gills and bullheads before my next outing.  Something's got to work.

The Lull Continues

I’m dying to catch my next flattie.  I haven’t run into one in my last 4 or 5 trips.  They are definitely in the spawn and off of the feed.  The big channels have been pretty active.  I'll run through my last few outings.  

To begin, I’m definitely a better solo fisherman than I am a guide.  I was able to take my sister-in-law’s husband, Evan, out a couple of times last weekend.  They were in from Boston .  Our first night seemed perfect.  It was hot and humid.  We even had some fog rolling over the water.  Evan and I sat up at the elbow for a couple of hours starting at dusk.  There was nothing going on up there so we slipped down just below the elbow into the long, deep run.  After a couple more hours, we finally got a good hit on a live creek chub.  I set the hook on the fish and offered the rod to Evan.  He told me to go ahead and bring the fish in.  It turned out to be a decent channel.  We were shocked and horrified when I brought the fish boat side.  Its right eye was gone and surrounded by bright pink flesh that made it look like it had survived a fire.  My hook had taken care of the other eye.  This poor fish was completely blind.  Evan had a pretty strong reaction to the gory sight which sent me into hysterics.  Underneath it all, I felt bad for the fish.  I did decide to release it, figuring that sight is probably the least important of a channel cat’s senses.  After night one, I hadn’t put Evan onto any fish.  Like with Josh and Elijah, I was pretty frustrated.

We decided to go out one more time a couple of nights later.  A thunderstorm and heavy rain pinned us under the bridge.  I sent 4 lines back as far as I could throw them down river from the bridge.  We didn’t end up with much lightning in our area, mostly wind and rain.  It turned into a pretty relaxing atmosphere sitting under there and watching the rain.  Evan had his iPhone and was showing me funny YouTube videos.  That thing downloaded the videos faster than my Mac at home.  Pretty amazing.  We had a few hits that didn’t turn into anything.  Then my clicker on a rod with a live chub started zinging.  I was paying attention to that rod when Evan announced behind me that he had a fish on.  The fish ended up getting hung up on a log as he reeled it in.  He could still feel it fighting, but each time he pulled the rod back, it would come to a dead stop.  I could picture the fish down there getting its head rammed against a log.  I grabbed the rod and put the reel into free spool, using my thumb to apply just enough tension.  The fish took off down river and freed itself from the log.  Evan was then able to get it to the boat.  It was another decent sized channel, probably just over 5 pounds.  We had a great time together out there, but I really wish I could have put him onto a big flattie or maybe a few more channels.

A couple of days later, Michelle and I were trying to figure out our week and when I could work in a trip.  In the meantime, she went to do something with the kids and some friends while I waited at home for a guy to show up to buy my weight set.  He drove into the driveway at a little after 7:00 and Michelle called me just a little later.  She suggested that I head out that night.  Time to scramble.  I threw some things together and then went to our creek to see if I could catch some bait.  I caught 2 nice sized chubs on a worm and then a couple of little ones.  I then switched to salmon eggs and caught one more little one.  I didn’t have much, but it would have to do.  I ran up to the river, forgetting my camera and one of my cat rods.  I got to the river at close to 9:00 and decided to spend my first hour trying to get some bait.  It was a struggle.  I only managed one big rock bass and a smaller one that had swallowed the hook. 

With my late start, I decided to fish the deep water just above the bridge.  I started out with the healthy rock bass, one of the big creek chubs, and then one of the small creek chubs hooked through a nostril on a #6 hook.  I was hoping to maybe stumble into a walleye.  It took awhile to get anything going, but the big rock bass finally got hit.  I’m not sure what grabbed it, but when I reeled it in it had a munched head with one blood red eye bulging grotesquely from its face.  I decided to lop off its head and fish it as cut bait.  Just as I was about to cast this line back out, the little spinning rod with the small chub on it just about got pulled into the water.  I  grabbed it and set the hook on a heavy fish.  I knew that it was a channel.  This was confirmed when it rolled up to the surface back behind the boat.  With a medium spinning rod and 8 pound test, I took my time with this fish.  It probably went around 6 or 7 pounds.  That #6 hook was much nicer to this fish than the 8/0 was the other night.  I released it with barely a scratch.  I neglected to mention that I had caught one other channel before dark.  It was maybe a 4-pounder that hit on a ball of worms.  I had one more big minnow get crunched before the end of the night, but I didn’t set the hook on any more fish.  The going is tough right now.  I’m praying for the spawn to end.

Fireworks Are Bad for Fishing

My family spent Saturday celebrating the 4th at a parade in the morning, the in-laws' lake during the day, and a late night at the Kentwood fireworks.  We topped it off with our own little private display in the backyard at close to midnight. 

On Sunday we had a picnic at my parents'.  It was there that Josh said the magic words . . . "You going fishing tonight, Matt?"  He and Elijah were wanting to go after some river cats.  I was all for it.  I ran it by Michelle and got the green light.  I picked up some white suckers, caught a half dozen chubs, packed my gear and headed to the river at around 8:00.  Hoping to get a few suckers and rock bass, I fished with worms while I waited for Josh and Elijah.  I had a surprisingly tough time getting anything going.  They soon showed up with stories of raccoons in their garage.  A family had moved in and Josh wasn't sure how he was going to get them out.  We didn't have much time before dark, but we managed to stir up one sucker before heading up to get set for flatties.  We sat at the elbow for close to two hours with only one hit on a live chub.  It was the aggressive bite of a channel.  It got away with my minnow.  Just up river from us, there was a small party going on.  The people were setting off some pretty big stuff.  Not far down river, another party was doing the same thing.  The night was alive with huge booms and flashes.  Josh and Elijah were having a pretty good time watching the show.  I was beginning to cringe because I was starting to think that this had a lot to do with the lack of action.  I think that those huge percussions were keeping the flatties holed up in their snags.  Could still be the spawn factor, but the fireworks definitely weren't helping.

At a little after 11:00, we headed back down river to fish the flats below the bridge.  I tried everything down there from live bait to cutbait to dipbait.  Nothing.  I was sick about it.  I really wanted to put these guys into fish.  All I could say was that we'd do it again.  Elijah was pretty quiet during the trip.  He's more of a run and gun fisherman.  He likes throwing lures and switching baits often.  This waiting game must have been tough for him, but he was patient.  Hopefully there will be a big pay off for all of the waiting next time.  Josh promised him a late night trip to McDonald's so he had one more thing to look forward to when they hit the dock at a little after midnight.

I usually enjoy irony, but it was cruel to us this night.  I went back up above the bridge after I dropped them off and caught a big channel on a live chub within about 10 minutes of saying good-bye.  Josh probably wouldn't even believe me if I told him.  This thing ate a huge chub and got hooked up on a 10/0 hook.  I expect to catch flatties on these hooks, so it's pretty rare for me to stick a channel with one of them.  The wind really picked up after this.  I hung in there until 2:30, but I didn't get bit again.  I was hugely frustrated when I finally motored to shore.  I owe those guys one.

That's More Like It

The river has come down to a depth more close to normal.  Knowing that the fishing would probably be good, Mort and I picked a day to fish last week.  He had some projects to finish up around home, so I had a couple of hours to dink around by myself out there.  I tried still fishing for about 45 minutes with small live chubs that I had trapped.  Nothing showed any interest.  I then tied on a parrot pattern DT 6 and went to drifting and casting.  I picked up half a dozen smallies, pulling most of them from just off of the bank.  The final fish was a nice 16-incher that came off of a shallow run with scattered small boulders.  These smallies aren't monsters, but they sure are fun to catch.  They hit hard and fight harder.

After I picked up Mort, we tried a little more casting but the bite seemed to be off.  We decided to still fish with crawlers.  This bite was steady.  We had our best luck just down from the Northland Drive Bridge in the middle of the flat.  We caught several little smallies and some suckers.  I had plenty of creek chubs in the livewell, so the suckers were spared.

I dropped Mort off with enough light to head back up river and get set up.  I went to my favorite spot just up from the elbow and dropped in 3 live chubs.  After a few misses, I finally set the hook on a heavy fish.  This fish was on the middle rod.  I tried to sneak it under the line on the rod to the left, but it swam right through it and started peeling line off of the clicker.  I managed to bring it boatside and free it from the other line before too much damage was done.  As a matter of fact, that rod got hit by another good sized fish as I was weighing my first fish.  By the time that I got to it, the fish had run me under a log and snagged me up.  I had to cut that line. 

Stopping to take a look at the fish that I had landed, I noticed that it had a blue zip-tie in the dorsal fin.  There must be someone else who regularly fishes for flatties out there who is curious to find out if he is ever catching the same fish twice.  I've thought about tagging my fish for this very reason.  Pretty smart way to do it.  I looked to see if this practice is mentioned in the regulations book, but I couldn't find anything about it.  I'm not sure what I think about it.  I probably won't bother with it, but maybe.  I caught one more nice channel out of this spot before trying the run just down from the elbow.  I had two lines deep and one thrown up on top of a shallow run.  By this time of night, nothing seemed to be cruising the deep water.  I got 3 or 4 good hits up in the shallows, but each time my minnow was torn off of the hook.  Figuring that it was just a channel, I decided to bag it and call it a night.

The flattie was my best so far this year.  At 18 pounds, it fought a little more like some of the bigger fish that I've caught.  When it hit it yanked the pole down and didn't let it come back up.  That's about the prettiest thing that I can see when I'm in the middle of a dark river.  I'm hoping to top this fish soon and I'm hoping to do so multiple times this year.  Backing off to once a week will make it tough to keep up with the numbers from recent years, but I think I'll do okay.  Time will tell. 

A Little Redemption

I spent most of the day yesterday fighting to keep my eyes open.  Work was tough, donating plasma was tougher.  Ignoring conventional wisdom, I blocked out my need for sleep and headed back out to the river at around 7:30.  I put in at the launch in Ada off of Fulton Street.  It's probably a little over a mile up from the Knapp Street launch that I have been using most recently.  This is a new launch to me and I liked it.  I headed down river towards the islands where I have been picking up my fish.  As I passed a few other islands on my way down river, I had a thought that coming back up in the dark could make for some tough navigating.  I planned to just take it slow and keep the spolight handy.  I tried fishing some of those islands, but they just had shallow flats behind them and didn't seem to have as much potential to hold fish. 

When I got down to the island where I've been doing most of my fishing, I decided to drop anchor just off to the side of the island and a little up from the bottom point.  The current was a little more swift than I had figured and I still had some momentum going from motoring downstream when I dropped the anchor.  I dropped it right under a big downed log and just about took a header over the front of the boat when it violently jerked to a stop.  Thankfully, the boat and I were no worse for the wear once it whipped around and settled with the stern facing down river.  I tried to fish, but I knew that I had some work ahead of me to get that anchor out so I pulled in my lines just about as soon as I dropped them.  With my lines in, I went to work on the anchor.  I grabbed the rope and jerked the anchor up and down, hoping that this would shake it free.  All it did was make the front of the boat bob and dip.  My next trick was to start the motor and slowly move upstream.  Keeping the boat pointed directly upstream, straight towards the rope, I started at idle speed and gradually increased the power.  The anchor popped free just as slick as could be.  I was pretty relieved that I wouldn't have to figure out how to fish without an anchor.

A creature of habit, I decided to head down and fish the clump of wood at the top of the island closest to Knapp Street.  I picked up a few smallies and rock bass with a crawler on one line and got bumped a few times on the cut chub on the other line.  I finally sank the hook into the fish on the cutbait.  It acted more like a flattie than a channel.  It gave me more of a solid, strong run than the flippy-floppy, spazzy fight of a channel.  Sure enough, when I got it next to the boat I could see that it was an ugly little flattie.  He was all blotchy and had one messed up eye.  Mine wasn't the first hook that he'd tangled with.

I slipped down to the bottom of the island and dropped 3 live chubs in.  I used two huge chubs on 10/0 hooks and one smaller chub on a 7/0.  I thought that this smaller rig might give me a better chance of getting the hook into some of the small fish that have been stealing my bait.  It didn't pan out right away.  That rod got rapped 3 times hard and my minnow was gone.  With just a little light left, I headed back to the bottom edge of the productive island.  Fishing all live chubs again, it took a little while for things to get going.  I finally got a good hit on one of my rods, and then a few others.  The hits were all isolated by several seconds and I didn't get the rod load that I look for before setting the hook.  When the rod sat still for a few minutes, I reeled it in and found that the fish had bitten the front half of my minnow completely off.  I threw this rig back out with a fresh chub and pretty quickly got a more solid bite.  I grabbed the rod and set the hook on another smallish flattie.  Shortly after 11:00 that same rod got hit and I reeled in a nice 8-pound channel.  At midnight I finished off the trip with a 10-pound flattie.  Steady action and some solid hooksets made for a good night.  Some big fish would have made for a great night, but I had a feeling of satisfaction as I pulled my anchor for the last time.

Picking my way through the islands in the pitch dark did prove to be  pretty tough.  I allowed myself to get sucked into a narrow side channel that was only a couple of feet deep at the top just before it rejoined the main channel.  Thinking that I was clear, I increased the throttle and then realized that I was very close to hitting a tiny island that had collected some wood.  If the river stays up and I keep fishing this section, I imagine that I'll get familiar enough with it to navigate it with my eyes closed.  For now, I better take it slow and keep that spotlight burning.

I got to bed at around 1:30 in the morning.  Sometime during the night our youngest got into bed with us.  That woke me up, but I didn't stay awake long.  At 5:00, Luke went into the living room and turned all of the lights and the TV on.  I had to get up and send him back to bed.  Surprisingly, I feel pretty good today.  I'm not having to fight to keep my eyes open.  Still, I'm planning on heading to bed early tonight.  Luke and I are heading out tomorrow.  I'll drop him off with Grandma before I night fish, but I'm going to work on getting him into some decent channel cats while he's out with me.  Time for the boy to take the next step.  (Note:  I had to go home from work sick the very next morning.  I've committed to Michelle that I'm going to slow it down.) 

Mr. Bigshot

One fall evening a couple of years ago, I was at the launch dropping my boat in when another boat pulled up to the dock from the river.  I noticed that the guy was someone that I had known from church when I was a kid.  He and my dad knew each other quite well.  I did the "remember me?" thing and asked him if he fished the river much.  He said that he didn't, but was just giving it a try.  He hadn't caught much.  I took this opportunity to brag about how I had it mastered.  I went into all of the fish that I've caught, made sure to tell him of the several 20+ pound flatties I've hauled in, talked like an expert about tackle, bait, and tactics, and generally probably wore the guy's ear out.  I followed up my droning with a slip, an awkward arm flapping attempt to get my balance, and then a  plunge into the cold river.  After he made sure that I was okay, I could see him fighting pretty hard to keep from laughing at me.  I'm guessing that as soon as he pulled away he got a full eyes watering, belly shaking guffaw out of it.  I can hear him telling his wife when he got home, "Hey, you remember that Matt Elyea kid?  Yeah, he didn't turn out too well . . ."  I'm pretty awesome. 

The Thanks I Get

Sunday was Father's Day.  I woke to the smell of coffee, but when I got to the pot I found it empty.  Brewing my own coffee, I watched as the kids scooted around the house, but I didn't get the cheerful "Happy Father's Day!" trio that I was expecting.  My daughter was going camping for a week with my sister's family, so she was bouncing off of the walls.  The boys were doing their tasmanian devil thing.  Michelle was focused on getting Hayden packed.  I eventually decided to head out front and pull the weeds from our overgrown flower bed.  When lunch rolled around there was still no mention of the old man's special day, and a sandwich and cup of diet Coke were brought to me in the front yard.  I was starting to wonder what was going on, but I went with the flow.  After lunch I drove Hayden up to Keri's and returned to find Michelle with car keys and purse in hand.  She wanted to head out for awhile.  She hoped I wouldn't mind watching the boys.  She was gone for a few hours, so I figured she must be working on something.  When she finally returned, she asked if I wanted waffles and eggs for dinner.  I gave up on it when I heard this.  I told her that no, I was thinking of taking Luke to Taco Bell and then we were going to go catch some creek chubs at the park.  She looked puzzled at that response and then asked me how that fit into my diet.  I finally said, "Well, it's supposed to be some kind of holiday so I guess that's how I'm going to celebrate."  She got a deer in the headlights look on her face and began to apologize, saying that she forgot.  We just spent most of Saturday celebrating Father's Day with our dads, but I guess I'll buy that she somehow forgot.  Anyway, she reached for the one thing that she thought might redeem her and sent me fishing.

Of course I took her up on it and was headed north within about 20 minutes.  Hoping to get some flattie bait, I started out fishing with crawlers.  I couldn't catch a sucker or rock bass to save my life.  The smallies were going crazy and I actually found myself grunting in disgust when I'd see them jump after the  hookset.  I even got so desperate for bait that I threw a little channel in the livewell.  I'm not sure if flatties eat them or not, but I wouldn't be surprised.  I was feeling quite a bit of tension as I got over an hour into my trip without decent bait.  It would start getting dark soon.  I was finally able to exhale when at last I pulled a small redhorse over the gunwhale.  It wasn't much, but it would give me a chance.  I finally got down to my very last chunk of crawler and was already in the middle of cutting up the little guy when my pole doubled over.  It was a huge sucker that would provide me with plenty of bait.  I was in good shape. 

I headed up to the island where I've been having some luck.  I didn't have my lines set for very long before the clicker in the rod behind me started going.  By the sound of it, a big flattie was moving away with my bait at a steady pace.  I grabbed the rod, turned off the clicker and engaged the reel, let the rod load up, and pulled the bait right out of its mouth.  My only substantial hit all night.  I went home feeling like Rodney Dangerfield.  Luke and I did get out and catch those creek chubs yesterday, so I'm loaded with bait and ready to hit it tonight.  I'm crossed eye tired, but I have to take advantage of June before it slips away.  The only thing good about the bad days is that they make the good days even better.  I'm due.

More High Water Cats

We're getting this thing figured out.  Mort and I headed out last night with the river still swelled and muddy.  In previous years, this pretty much meant a guaranteed skunk.  Mort was apparently still feeling this sentiment because he later reported that he wasn't holding out much hope for catching anything when I picked him up sometime around 5:00.  Luckily, he was wrong.

We started out fishing dip bait and crawlers.  Our first stop was at a snag that we had never tried, not far from the Knapp Street launch.  Nothing touched the dip bait, but we picked up a few rock bass on the crawlers.  I had plenty of bait, so we threw them all back.  I made a mental note for future trips when I might be running low on chubs and gills.  I have already had some luck fishing the down river ends of islands under the current conditions, so I suggested that we head up a quarter mile to the island that I've spent most of my time fishing.

The channels found our dip bait pretty quickly.  We started with a couple of eaters before Mort sunk the hook into a much bigger fish.  I'm guessing that it was around 6 pounds.  We don't know for sure because I opted to skip the net and just grab it for him.  You can usually get away with this when you're using heavy braided line and a big hook.  Different story with light mono and a small treble hook. As I was holding the line, the fish thrashed a little bit and popped off.  I could tell Mort was disappointed.  A fish story is always better when you can report exactly how big the fish was.  Estimates are viewed as exaggerations.  Maybe he should say 8 so the guys at work figure it was 6.

After a little bit, we decided that we had fished this spot out.  We opted to swing up to the top end of the island and fish all of that wood that was stacked up against it.  Didn't get a nibble.  The spot was money for me the first few times that I fished it, but it went south quickly.  I haven't caught a fish there in 3 trips.  We hadn't stayed too long when I suggested that we head up to the next island.  We nosed up to the bottom end of it again and found fish one more time.  These islands are gold when the river is high and dirty.  I couldn't be happier about this discovery.  We fished several snags throughout the evening and never got touched by a cat in them.  The slack water holes below the islands are the place to be.

When we finished at this spot, I ran the mile back down river to the launch and sent Mort happily on his way.  I headed back up to the exact same spot to set up for flatties.  With the creeks all high, I wasn't able to get my chubs.  I had saved several panfish from the night before and picked up a dozen huge sucker minnows from Gander Mountain.  It turns out that the sucker minnows were the prey of choice for the flatties.  I got a pretty quick hit on one, but I briefly felt weight and then the tension released.  I think that it was a smallish flattie that had the minnow by the head, but hadn't grabbed the hook behind the dorsal fin.  I would have 3 more misses like that before the end of the evening.  I'm pretty sure they were all small fish.  Small flatties will hit with a bang-bang-bang, where the big boys usually grab your bait and don't look back.

The 17-pounder in the picture came with just the slightest bit of light left in the sky.  It hit on the pole that I set up behind me.  The clicker was on, but this flattie managed to grab the minnow and run without turning the spool a single click.  I was sitting there waiting for something to happen when I noticed that the line on this rod had moved from my far left and was now in between the other two lines.  I grabbed the rod, reeled quickly until I caught up to the fish, let the rod load up, and sunk the hook into her.  I've never seen a flattie run all over the place like this fish did.  It raced around like a channel and then tried to keep going right on past me when I finally steered it boat side.  I was eventually able to tame her and bring her close enough to grab that big lower jaw.  She had quite a bulging belly, so I'm pretty sure that it was a female full of eggs.  I'm expecting an imminent lull as the flatties move into the spawn.  Hopefully I can pull a few more out before that happens.

Overcoming High Water Conditions

I've been looking forward to June since the end of the ice fishing season, but so far it isn't really living up to my expectations.  The story for this spring has been big rains and high water.  The river has been swelled for weeks.  One positive outcome of this frustrating situation is that it has pushed me further up river to seek out spots that will produce when the river is up.  I've found that the first mile beyond my normal stretch holds far more snags, bends, holes, and small islands.  I have been able to pick out some spots that produce even when the river is up.  An outing that I took earlier this week will serve as a good example of what I have found up there.

Hearing that we had yet more rain coming this week, I made a call to Michelle as I was heading home from work on Monday to offer to watch the kids for a few hours in turn for being able to head to the river by 7:30 or so.  She took me up on it, so with kids in tow after dinner, I went to the creek and stocked up on some creek chubs and even one small gill.  I should add that my stock of chubs is getting thin in the creek behind my house.  I thought that they would naturally replenish, but apparently I'm taking them out more quickly than new ones are showing up.  I'm going to have to leave them alone for awhile and get my bait from the local park where I previously caught them.  I ended up with close to a dozen chubs, including some that I had kept in a bucket after my last trip.  More would have been better, but this was enough to get me on the water.

At around 8:00 I dropped the boat into the river on this small little launch that doesn't have a dock.  I'm not loving this part of my new fishing situation.  The launch by my parents' house is beautiful and has a nice dock.  Launching and trailering the boat is dry, quick, and easy.  This one is muddy and shallow, and I have to wade in to get the boat on and off of the trailer.  Anyway, I headed up river under gun metal skies and in a mist of rain.  The first spot that I tried was the down river end of the second island up.  I got bumped a few times, but as I was waiting I saw a nice snag that seemed more inviting.  I set up on this snag and missed a few solid hits before landing an eater sized channel.  I don't normally keep them, but I decided before this trip that I was going to keep some eaters and have them for dinner the next night.  I got bumped a few more times on that snag, but I couldn't hook up.  I was getting frustrated, but threw in one more time.  I finally sunk the hook into my tormentor and was surprised when it leaped right out of the water.  It turned out to be my first gar pike.  It jumped a few more times, including when it was up next to the boat.  I grabbed my pliers to release it without bringing it into the boat, but one more jump and it released itself.

I dropped down to another small snag just as the sun was setting.  I've never seen the mosquitos as bad as they are this year.  Even with bug spray on, they swarmed me, looking for any opening that I would give them.  Latex gloves come in handy in this situation.  They allow you to protect your hands without having to put dope on them and risk contaminating your bait.  The wind suddenly came up and began blowing at what must have been at least 15-20 mph.  This cleared the skeeters and gave me some much needed relief.  The sudden wind made me wonder if a thunderstorm was coming in, but one never materialized.  Back to the fishing.  I picked up another channel and had a few more swings and misses.  With just enough light to see, I then slipped down to the sizable snag that is stacked against the top of a small island.  I've fished this before and have mentioned it in at least one previous entry.  I threw in cut chub on two lines and the gill on the third rod.  It didn't take long before I got a good hit and set the hook on something heavy.  I knew quickly that I was dragging in a turtle.  As I hauled in this angry snapper, the rod with the gill sprung to life.  With the turtle on the rod in my left hand, I grabbed the bouncing rod in my right and set the hook on nothing.  That old snapper had cost me a flattie.  I cursed the bad timing.

With this spot producing nothing more, I slid down to a snag along the edge of the island.  It gave me one more eater channel.  Running out of bait and time, I nosed up to the bottom of the island.  This is a nice current break and I noticed that it drops off into a deep hole.  A live chub picked up a small flattie in no time, but then things slowed right down.  I sat for quite awhile with only a few bumps.  At a little after midnight I decided to stack the last few chunks of cutbait on my hook and give it one last toss.  I finally got a nice steady pull that kept the rod loaded.  I grabbed it and set the hook on another smallish flattie.

I kept the fish on an aerator in the livewell overnight and cleaned them after work yesterday afternoon.  I soaked the fillets in milk, dipped them in egg, and then coated them with Drakes Batter Mix.  After baking the fish for awhile, I noticed that the Drakes coating looked somewhat dry and I didn't think it would bake to the golden brown that is promised on the box.  I melted some margarine and basted the fish nuggets.  I got a very good response from my family.  Michelle seemed reluctant to try it, but by the end reported that she thought that she might even like it better than chicken.  For her, it's important that she doesn't see any of the preparation process.  All she wants to see is the golden brown, fully cooked nuggets.  It was good that I was able to do all of that while she was gone at the dentist.  Luke also gave me a positive response and even came back for more.  I'm still a catch and release guy, but I might keep a few eaters from time to time to keep the family fat and happy.

We had huge rain again last night and so our county and those around us are under flood warnings.  I was wanting to bring Mort out tomorrow to show him this stretch.  I'm not sure if it's worth the effort, but I'm sure I'll still go.  The only way to learn how to catch fish in all of these tough situations is to get out there, find spots that produce under these conditions, and figure out how to fish them.  Getting bait will be a problem for the next couple of days as the creeks are all swelled.  I will probably have to get some gills and maybe resort to dip bait for the channels.  The fishing has been good enough to keep me busy, but I'm still waiting for stable water so the big flatties will start biting consistently.  Still a lot of great fishing ahead.