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.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
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.
Monday, May 24, 2010
One of Those Days
This past Thursday I worked a half-day so that I could spend a good long chunk of time on Thornapple Lake. With my muskie and bass gear all set up, I stopped home to change and grab the boat, and then started off on the hour long trip down to the lake. When I finally arrived at the launch, I found the site packed with huge trucks, piles of gravel, and big cement slabs. The launch was closed for repair. I allowed myself a brief tantrum in the face of my misfortune and then I remembered a county park across the lake that also had a launch. I found the park and the launch, but there was one sign that said that the park closed at 5:00 and another that said that it closed at 3:00. It was 2:00. I didn't want to risk getting locked in, so I weighed my options and decided to try Campau.
After another drive that took close to an hour, I dropped the boat into Campau Lake. I dodged a couple of speed boats as I headed straight across the lake to fish the west shore. I quickly noticed that I was constantly bouncing around in the wakes of these speed boats as they cruised the perimeter of this small lake. The noise was ridiculous. I didn't last 20 minutes. I knew the river was still high, but I'd rather take my chances out there than flop around in the chop of these big boats all day.
On my way up to the river, I made a conscious decision just to calm down and relax. I should have started fishing two hours ago, but getting all frustrated wasn't going to help anything. I picked my way through the traffic on the beltline and was at a small Grand River launch off of Knapp Street in no time. My plan was to try a new section of river just up stream from my normal stretch. The river was still dirty and running a little high, but it looked fishable. I ran down river first. There was a group of guys fishing above a snag who said that they had picked up a couple of channels, so that was good news. I continued on until I reached a small cove that I thought might hold a few pike. I didn't find any Northerns, but I did see a ton of gar pike. I messed around with them for awhile just because they were there, but I didn't really expect to hook into any of them. As a matter of fact, I don't think that I really wanted to.
Next, I headed up into that new section of river. I found it to have some nice bends and one really deep hole. I took note of a few snags as I rode up river. When I felt like I had traveled far enough, I settled in above a nice little snag. I cast out a couple of hooks loaded with cut chub. I quickly got a hit and pulled in a channel cat that pushed 5 pounds. I picked up one more from this snag. I tried another snag just down river from the first one, but the current was a lot stronger here so I didn't give it too much time. The final snag that I fished up there was a beauty. The high water had pushed a ton of wood up against the top edge of a small island and completely across a small channel between the island and the shore. I got hit immediately and then hit again on the other pole when I was reeling in the first fish. It was quite a trick getting both fish in on my bass spinning gear. I had to hold one rod and reel between my knees and switch back and forth, cranking each reel to keep tension on both lines. I got both fish in and they each weighed somewhere in the vicinity of 5 pounds.
I had similar results in the final blowdown that I tried. I caught two more same sized fish and got into one more, but the line was cut clean. It was either a channel that ran me across something sharp or more likely a pike. I tried live chubs after dark in hopes that the flatties were moving. I didn't find any. It turned out to be a decent, but not too exciting evening on the river. Channels are nice because they're consistent, but they don't get huge above the 6th Street Dam. Fishing for them gets all too predictable. I'm ready for the flatties to get active. I'll go after them tonight when the wife gets home to relieve me of kid duty. The river was at 62 degrees when I was out on Thursday and it's only going to get warmer with the hot weather that we are having. We're in a stretch of days in the high 80's. Just what we needed. The flathead fishing is about to come into full swing. This might be why I found it so easy to remain calm when my day turned into such a debockle. It's that time of year when the fishing improves a little every day. I'm knocking on the door of a fresh new season. Life is good.
After another drive that took close to an hour, I dropped the boat into Campau Lake. I dodged a couple of speed boats as I headed straight across the lake to fish the west shore. I quickly noticed that I was constantly bouncing around in the wakes of these speed boats as they cruised the perimeter of this small lake. The noise was ridiculous. I didn't last 20 minutes. I knew the river was still high, but I'd rather take my chances out there than flop around in the chop of these big boats all day.
On my way up to the river, I made a conscious decision just to calm down and relax. I should have started fishing two hours ago, but getting all frustrated wasn't going to help anything. I picked my way through the traffic on the beltline and was at a small Grand River launch off of Knapp Street in no time. My plan was to try a new section of river just up stream from my normal stretch. The river was still dirty and running a little high, but it looked fishable. I ran down river first. There was a group of guys fishing above a snag who said that they had picked up a couple of channels, so that was good news. I continued on until I reached a small cove that I thought might hold a few pike. I didn't find any Northerns, but I did see a ton of gar pike. I messed around with them for awhile just because they were there, but I didn't really expect to hook into any of them. As a matter of fact, I don't think that I really wanted to.
Next, I headed up into that new section of river. I found it to have some nice bends and one really deep hole. I took note of a few snags as I rode up river. When I felt like I had traveled far enough, I settled in above a nice little snag. I cast out a couple of hooks loaded with cut chub. I quickly got a hit and pulled in a channel cat that pushed 5 pounds. I picked up one more from this snag. I tried another snag just down river from the first one, but the current was a lot stronger here so I didn't give it too much time. The final snag that I fished up there was a beauty. The high water had pushed a ton of wood up against the top edge of a small island and completely across a small channel between the island and the shore. I got hit immediately and then hit again on the other pole when I was reeling in the first fish. It was quite a trick getting both fish in on my bass spinning gear. I had to hold one rod and reel between my knees and switch back and forth, cranking each reel to keep tension on both lines. I got both fish in and they each weighed somewhere in the vicinity of 5 pounds.
I had similar results in the final blowdown that I tried. I caught two more same sized fish and got into one more, but the line was cut clean. It was either a channel that ran me across something sharp or more likely a pike. I tried live chubs after dark in hopes that the flatties were moving. I didn't find any. It turned out to be a decent, but not too exciting evening on the river. Channels are nice because they're consistent, but they don't get huge above the 6th Street Dam. Fishing for them gets all too predictable. I'm ready for the flatties to get active. I'll go after them tonight when the wife gets home to relieve me of kid duty. The river was at 62 degrees when I was out on Thursday and it's only going to get warmer with the hot weather that we are having. We're in a stretch of days in the high 80's. Just what we needed. The flathead fishing is about to come into full swing. This might be why I found it so easy to remain calm when my day turned into such a debockle. It's that time of year when the fishing improves a little every day. I'm knocking on the door of a fresh new season. Life is good.
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