Fishing With A Shovel

I spent a couple of days this past weekend up at the in-laws'.  We enjoyed a lot of swimming and helping the kids catch bluegills off of the dock, but a little bay near their house that is so shallow the lilly pads stick 3 feet out of the water was calling me.  In addition to the pads, there are a few big sections of ultra skinny water covered in a skim of algae.  I knew the bass were in there and I wanted to go play around with them.

My in-laws have one of those paddle boats with a bench seat.  It works out nicely for their small lake and I like that it sits you up high.  Another plus is that it works like 4 wheel drive in the slop.  Just before dinner I paddled into the sludge with a plastic worm on one rod and a bass jig and curly tail on another.  The bass started showing themselves right away.  They either tried to chase down the worm as I dragged it across the surface or they swirled on some unseen baitfish, calling me to them like a dog to a whistle.  I had a great time toying with them, but I was geared too light and I only landed a few smallish fish.

At the far end of this little cove, it actually gets deeper.  This hole was covered with the algae.  I threw the worm across it a few times with no chasers and then grabbed the jig and curly tail.  I pitched it under a dock a few times and then dropped it straight under the boat to the middle of the hole.  I had my bail open waiting for the jig to hit bottom, but line just kept coming off of the spool.  I flipped the bail and when the line began to get tight I could see that it was moving away from me.  I set the hook, but there was nothing at the end of the line but the end of the line.  One of those monster pike that lurk in these waters was laughing at me as it spit my jig into the marl and skulked away.  I immediately started thinking about returning with my muskie rods.

The next day, I did just that.  We had rain all day, but it was subsiding and giving way to a muggy calm.  Great fishing weather.  I picked up some plastic frogs at Gander Mountain and used them on my smaller muskie rod which is still a 7'6" medium heavy casting rod loaded with 50 pound Power Pro.  I knew that I was now a little over matched for the situation, but I wanted to see if I could haul some of those bass out of the pads.  I made one cast just as I was moving away from the dock and caught a 14 incher just off of the weed edge.  The bass in the slop didn't disappoint either.  They were all over that frog.  Some of them traveled a pretty good distance to nail it when they sensed it hitting the surface.  There's not much that is prettier than the wake of a nice fish making a bee line for you lure.  I finished up with 6 fish all around 12 to 15 inches.

I should mention that this second trip was all during a Memorial Day get together.  The house was full of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and family friends.  I should have had the sense to go back in and be social when I finished up with the bass, but I couldn't resist the call of the big pike.  I'll be short and just say that I threw a lot of lures and never turned up a fish.  The Northerns are incredibly elusive in that lake 95% of the time.

I felt sheepish when I finally walked back up to the house.  Time had flown by and it was already 9:00.  I had no idea that it had gotten that late.  My parents were gone and everyone else was leaving.  Michelle was surprisingly understanding, but I wasn't real happy with myself.  My night would have been spent much better hanging with the family and catching those gills from the dock with the kids.  I defend my right, need, whatever to fish with a lot of passion, but when you're wrong you're wrong.  I was wrong.  I owe some people a little family time.  Maybe the rods will have to stay home next time we head up.  I'll have to trade them in for swimmies, wiffle ball bats, and pool toys.  Still learning.