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.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Doubleheader
After being on-call last weekend, I found myself with a full day off on Friday to fish my brains out. I planned a two legged trip. I decided to start out on Murray Lake in the morning and then sometime a little after lunch head over to the river to fish with Mort. It would turn out to be a decent trip with a total of about 16 hours on the water.
I got to Murray a little after light and found that a few boats had beat me to the water. There was still plenty of shore and weed flats left to fish. I started out by casting a Super Shad off of and parallel to the drop off on the west shore. After a little while I switched over to a blue X-Rap on a spinning rig. I was cranking it down to the desired depth and then jerking it back to the boat. It didn't take long before a really big fish grabbed on and dug in. The fight wasn't vicious, but I could tell that the fish was good sized and strong. It came with the lure at first and stayed deep. When I brought it close enough to start to see its movement deep under the boat, it violently shook its head and was able to get unbuttoned. I was pretty sure that it had been a muskie. I can't be positive about that, but it sure wasn't a perch.
I threw a number of different lures at the weed edge and over the flats before deciding to dedicate some time to trolling. I opted to tow the Super Shad. I tried to stay just off of the drop, but had to occasionally go out to deeper water to avoid boats and a few floating docks. When I got to the east arm of the lake, I could see a couple of other guys casting for muskies. They were throwing huge plastic tiger tube type baits. I didn't see them pick anything up. As I neared the end of the east arm, I noticed a few boats fishing in the far cove. I decided that I wanted to avoid them, so I cut in towards the far east shore. This took me over 65 feet of water. Somewhere in the back of my brain I had a flicker of a memory of Jim Lindner trolling for muskies in open water on one of my DVD's. I thought to myself that I wouldn't be surprised if I got into one over this abyss. So I'll describe my reaction more as panic than surprise when the rod got thumped and then started to go crazy in the rod holder. Thank goodness that my drag was pretty loose or I'm quite sure that I would have lost the rod and holder in one big crunch of breaking plastic. I cut the motor and fought the rod out of the holder. It took a lot of muscle, way too much time, and just the right angle to finally get it free.
I felt instant relief that I was sitting in the middle of nowhere over extremely deep water. I could fight the fish worry free. I steadily gained ground on her. The water was clear, so I could see the fish quite a distance out from the boat. She made a couple of nice runs, but with my heavy gear I was able to get her into my new muskie net in no time. I quickly threw on my protective gloves, grabbed my pliers, and went to work on her while she sat in the net in the water. I've heard plenty about muskies going crazy in the net and this one was no exception. She started with just one hook in her mouth, but as soon as I wrestled it out of her she went ballistic and ended up with both of them in her. I stayed after it and finally freed her. I pulled her out of the net and did a quick measurement. She was 38 inches. I felt that I owed it to her to skip the picture and just get her back into the water. Besides, I just took a picture with a 38 inch Thornapple Lake muskie a few weeks ago. I'm sure it looks about the same. I look about the same. What would be the point? She made a strong surge and shot right out of my hand as soon as she found herself once again submerged. After I released her, I remembered that an old grandpa and his grandson were fishing not 30 yards away. I looked up at their boat to collect my congratulations. They sat side by side facing away from me, apparently oblivious to the drama that unfolded a few first downs away. I went ahead and congratulated myself. While I stumbled across the muskie on Thornapple, this was my first muskie that I was targeting and able to fight on my muskie gear. It was sweet.
The shallows were covered with panfish and I messed with them for just a little while. I caught several and kept a few gills for my late night flattie quest. I spotted one more muskie in the shallows, but it saw me too so there wasn't much use trying to catch it. I trailered the boat and headed west to the river. I stopped at the gas station to fill up the tank to make sure that I could run as far as I needed to put Mort on some channel cats. It ended up being a good decision. The river was still a little high, so I decided that I'd better take him to those snags way up river where I had recently caught some high water channels. It was about a 3 mile ride. When we got just past the Knapp Street bridge, we saw a lot of smoke blowing across the river. What we thought was a huge bonfire turned out to be a house that had just about burned completely to the ground. A large group of firemen had apparently done all they could do and were standing around in the yard watching the fire finish it off. God be with those people as they face the daunting task of rebuilding their lives.
The same snags that I fished a few days earlier continued to produce. We got lots of bites on cut creek chub, most of the time just about as soon as the bait touched bottom. We decided to fish for them with my bass gear, so we really enjoyed feeling their incredible strength. By the late evening we totaled out at 4 or 5 fish. Our biggest was 6 pounds and the others weren't far behind. Channels on the Grand provided us with another solid night of fishing.
I dropped Mort off a little before dark and decided to dedicate the rest of my time completely to flatties. This meant fishing a big live creek chub on one rod, a live gill on another, and a big chunk of cut sucker on the third. It turned into a lot of sitting in the dark, but wasn't quite a complete bust as the live gill finally got tagged by a smallish flattie in a hole just below the Northland Drive bridge. I finally called it a night at around 1:00 AM.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the excitement. I dropped the boat at my parents' and as I maneuvered around in their driveway I noticed one of the front wheels making a clicking sound. The clicking evolved into a full blown thumping as I sped down the expressway. I finally decided to get off of the expressway and then prayed myself the rest of the way home on side streets. People in the know say that it's a CV joint. I took it in tonight to get worked on tomorrow. No Jeep means no fishing, so I'm out of commission for at least a day or 2. The tremors will start if it's much more than that.
I got to Murray a little after light and found that a few boats had beat me to the water. There was still plenty of shore and weed flats left to fish. I started out by casting a Super Shad off of and parallel to the drop off on the west shore. After a little while I switched over to a blue X-Rap on a spinning rig. I was cranking it down to the desired depth and then jerking it back to the boat. It didn't take long before a really big fish grabbed on and dug in. The fight wasn't vicious, but I could tell that the fish was good sized and strong. It came with the lure at first and stayed deep. When I brought it close enough to start to see its movement deep under the boat, it violently shook its head and was able to get unbuttoned. I was pretty sure that it had been a muskie. I can't be positive about that, but it sure wasn't a perch.
I threw a number of different lures at the weed edge and over the flats before deciding to dedicate some time to trolling. I opted to tow the Super Shad. I tried to stay just off of the drop, but had to occasionally go out to deeper water to avoid boats and a few floating docks. When I got to the east arm of the lake, I could see a couple of other guys casting for muskies. They were throwing huge plastic tiger tube type baits. I didn't see them pick anything up. As I neared the end of the east arm, I noticed a few boats fishing in the far cove. I decided that I wanted to avoid them, so I cut in towards the far east shore. This took me over 65 feet of water. Somewhere in the back of my brain I had a flicker of a memory of Jim Lindner trolling for muskies in open water on one of my DVD's. I thought to myself that I wouldn't be surprised if I got into one over this abyss. So I'll describe my reaction more as panic than surprise when the rod got thumped and then started to go crazy in the rod holder. Thank goodness that my drag was pretty loose or I'm quite sure that I would have lost the rod and holder in one big crunch of breaking plastic. I cut the motor and fought the rod out of the holder. It took a lot of muscle, way too much time, and just the right angle to finally get it free.
I felt instant relief that I was sitting in the middle of nowhere over extremely deep water. I could fight the fish worry free. I steadily gained ground on her. The water was clear, so I could see the fish quite a distance out from the boat. She made a couple of nice runs, but with my heavy gear I was able to get her into my new muskie net in no time. I quickly threw on my protective gloves, grabbed my pliers, and went to work on her while she sat in the net in the water. I've heard plenty about muskies going crazy in the net and this one was no exception. She started with just one hook in her mouth, but as soon as I wrestled it out of her she went ballistic and ended up with both of them in her. I stayed after it and finally freed her. I pulled her out of the net and did a quick measurement. She was 38 inches. I felt that I owed it to her to skip the picture and just get her back into the water. Besides, I just took a picture with a 38 inch Thornapple Lake muskie a few weeks ago. I'm sure it looks about the same. I look about the same. What would be the point? She made a strong surge and shot right out of my hand as soon as she found herself once again submerged. After I released her, I remembered that an old grandpa and his grandson were fishing not 30 yards away. I looked up at their boat to collect my congratulations. They sat side by side facing away from me, apparently oblivious to the drama that unfolded a few first downs away. I went ahead and congratulated myself. While I stumbled across the muskie on Thornapple, this was my first muskie that I was targeting and able to fight on my muskie gear. It was sweet.
The shallows were covered with panfish and I messed with them for just a little while. I caught several and kept a few gills for my late night flattie quest. I spotted one more muskie in the shallows, but it saw me too so there wasn't much use trying to catch it. I trailered the boat and headed west to the river. I stopped at the gas station to fill up the tank to make sure that I could run as far as I needed to put Mort on some channel cats. It ended up being a good decision. The river was still a little high, so I decided that I'd better take him to those snags way up river where I had recently caught some high water channels. It was about a 3 mile ride. When we got just past the Knapp Street bridge, we saw a lot of smoke blowing across the river. What we thought was a huge bonfire turned out to be a house that had just about burned completely to the ground. A large group of firemen had apparently done all they could do and were standing around in the yard watching the fire finish it off. God be with those people as they face the daunting task of rebuilding their lives.
The same snags that I fished a few days earlier continued to produce. We got lots of bites on cut creek chub, most of the time just about as soon as the bait touched bottom. We decided to fish for them with my bass gear, so we really enjoyed feeling their incredible strength. By the late evening we totaled out at 4 or 5 fish. Our biggest was 6 pounds and the others weren't far behind. Channels on the Grand provided us with another solid night of fishing.
I dropped Mort off a little before dark and decided to dedicate the rest of my time completely to flatties. This meant fishing a big live creek chub on one rod, a live gill on another, and a big chunk of cut sucker on the third. It turned into a lot of sitting in the dark, but wasn't quite a complete bust as the live gill finally got tagged by a smallish flattie in a hole just below the Northland Drive bridge. I finally called it a night at around 1:00 AM.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the excitement. I dropped the boat at my parents' and as I maneuvered around in their driveway I noticed one of the front wheels making a clicking sound. The clicking evolved into a full blown thumping as I sped down the expressway. I finally decided to get off of the expressway and then prayed myself the rest of the way home on side streets. People in the know say that it's a CV joint. I took it in tonight to get worked on tomorrow. No Jeep means no fishing, so I'm out of commission for at least a day or 2. The tremors will start if it's much more than that.
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