Big Pickerel Go Deep in Summer

Clinton Reservoir doesn't always produce much for us. I did better in April when the water was in the 40's, trolling a Mepps Aglia, but Brian caught the 22-inch pickerel photographed above, while trolling a chrome Storm Hot 'n Tot. I had a smaller one rush my Wacky rig as I retrieved it for another cast, a fish hanging out in shallower water. We find the larger pickerel are in depths of about 12 feet and deeper from early June onward through the summer. I recall fishing with Brenden Kuprel a couple of years ago when I was catching 18- and 19-inchers on the deep edges of weedlines in 20 feet of water on little 1/16th ounce jig and paddletail combinations. I've caught pickerel 20 inches and better while trolling 15-foot depths of Tilcon Lake in the summer, too. To the best of Brian's recollection, his pickerel yesterday came from 15 feet of water. He had more line out than I did, so it's possible his plug was just about right on bottom. The plugs always gathered weeds when we got as shallow as 10 feet. 

I did catch a bluegill on a jig and twister, a 10-inch smallmouth bass, "if that," Brian said, on a 1/4-ounce Rebel Pop-R, and another sunfish of a different species on that same plug. Unfortunately, I lost a better bass that felt the hooks, and missed other hits. Brian's Whopper Plopper got hit twice under the same pine tree where he caught one almost 18 inches long on a Zara Spook two years ago. He ended up using a Zara Puppy yesterday, as I was drawing more hits on my smaller plug, and he got more hits on that Puppy, too, including one from a sizeable bass I witnessed. He had another bass boatside when it threw the hooks of the same plug. 

And the big bluegill photographed below. 

Most of the action came from an area I'd rather not disclose, and though we've had action there before and set getting there as a goal, when we came into view of it, there were a couple of guys in a Bass Tracker working it over. Given that added pressure on the fish, I think we did pretty well in terms of the interest we got from them, even though we pulled only a few over the gunwale. 

It's not the first time we've trolled big pickerel deep from Clinton Reservoir. On other occasions, a chrome Hot 'n Tot has produced pickerel of about 21 inches for me here. About the same depth. Twelve, maybe 15 feet. Once I hooked something enormous. Brian tells me there are 30-inchers here. That might have been what I had on. I had just caught a 21-inch largemouth, and whatever it was I hooked felt bigger, taking off on a lightning-quick run, just like a northern pike would for short duration, only I think I might have hooked a pike-sized pickerel. Trolled. The Hot 'n Tot, but it threw the hooks. 

Clinton

 

Trail Along the River Offers Access to Shoreline

The Delaware ran high, and we didn't catch any fish, but my Wacky rig did get hit once or twice. I felt something and thought I saw a bass swooping through the water's dingy two-foot clarity. Then I cast again and that time really did get hit, but upstream from where the former action happened. I fished in Frenchtown with Joe Beckerman, who I hadn't seen in 14 years. 

He's scouted around, having lived in Frenchtown for months. If you drive along the river, which many people do for recreation, taking in beautiful views, stopping at quaint little towns like Lambertville, Stockton, Frenchtown, and Milford, you'll probably get the impression that most of the river is barren of any fish-holding structure and depth. The truth is, there are smallmouth bass all along the shorelines for the most part. I once fished somewhere near Bull's Island by just casting a spinnerbait parallel to shore for some 45 minutes as I made my way downstream and caught three. Not big ones, but bass. 

At Frenchtown, there's a Delaware and Raritan Canal State Park "towpath," though the canal begins downstream from there. You don't have to walk very far in the upstream direction from in front of the Frenchtown-Uhlerstown Bridge before finding a trail leading down into the trees closer to the river. If you take that trail to access the river when it's flowing low, you might be able to work your way along the river itself while casting, even without getting your feet wet. Otherwise, you might still find spots where you can gain access.

Joe had a specific spot in mind that we accessed today even though the river barred us elsewhere. It didn't surprise me too much that I got hit. He asked me if I had a spinner, and I wished I had brought along the little box I can fit in my hip pocket. It has a couple of spinners in it. I just carried a couple bags of Yum Dingers, hooks, and an O-ring tool.

The Delaware is a fascinating complex of wild and traveled space that really isn't worked over as much as you might think. A man could spend a lifetime fishing the river and nowhere else, and he would still be surprised by something new each time on the water.

Frenchtown-Uhlerstown Bridge

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Foot trail along the river.

Joe's spot was more than a half mile above the bridge from Frenchtown where we began walking.

Lambertville

 

We Always Used to Cut Sharply Around the Bend

Every May or June, Kevin and I pay a visit to a certain cove that used to produce big hybrids on the troll. I started fishing with Kevin in October 2021, and every spring thereafter we've tried the sinking Rapalas that used to catch them and some trout, too. But not since 2019 have friends and I caught any there.

We always used to cut sharply around the bend and motor all the way to a shallow cove where we've done well trolling especially for plate-sized crappie, though we've caught some pickerel and largemouth, too. About a mile-and-a-half distant. Maybe a little more. Today, my mind riveted on the features of the bank right where we would have left, and I decided we would work our way along, tossing Shim-E-Sticks rigged Wacky. I didn't know for a certainty that any of it would produce, but similarly as I remarked in another post recently, I didn't know spots here and there along the way wouldn't.

It didn't take very long before we got a clear signal. I put my worm right in the corner where a dock created a 45-degree angle with the bank. So close to the bank, I felt relieved to be able to subtly flutter the ends and let it sink into deeper water. And then, suddenly, I lost all feel, felt alerted and tightened my line. Then I set the hook. OK fish. A largemouth surfaced and threw the hook.  

So now the question was whether anything else would happen. It doesn't always, but we were already doing better than Brian and I had done on Furnace last week--besides the musky Brian lost. Hard to believe that's already been almost a week, but it's nice to measure time by fishing trips. People say fishing is always better than work. It has something on spending time at home, too. Which is work after all, even if my writing and photography is a hobby because it doesn't pay big time.

Does money define things?

There's no doubt it's work. To write well, one must work. But is it a business? Something always grates at me, anyway, when I think of writing as a business. If all my handwritten notebooks were published, they would be contained in about 500 books of 300 pages each. Wasn't all of Kafka's work published posthumously, that hobbyist? What about William Blake? And who doesn't know of Friedrich Nietzsche, after some 100 copies of his books got published before he went insane?

And stayed that way.

Don't you just love people who have to put you in a slot like a take-home striped bass. You're either a hobbyist or businessman. Can't be any other way.

We made our way along the bank. As if something would happen, though I maintained the presence of critical reason. I wanted more to happen. That was sincere. I wanted Kevin to get on a bass too, and three years ago, Kevin caught a 20-incher on a Wacky rig. He's caught other largemouths, smallmouths, panfish, perch, pickerel, walleye, and a seven-and-a-quarter-pound hybrid, as well. So he's used to catching fish. In fact, at the present juncture, he had never been skunked on Hopatcong.

Not much later, I felt a pickup and carefully tightened the line, observing that the fish swam directly towards me. I understood that meant an uncertain hookset, and I gave it all I had. Fish on. Kevin did a good job with the net, after I had extended the handle before we began fishing. Smallmouth bass. Eighteen inches. And then another smallmouth bass maybe a hundred feet further along. Sixteen inches. Again, it took on the subtle flutter, and it swam with the worm at a right angle to me. 

It was a wonderful day and our conversation was good as always. But something went a little south with my style after that last bass. I still hit targets on the tip of the nose. You can ask Kevin about that. But I ended up losing four more bass. One of them actually hit after we made a divergent move I thought thereafter had been a waste of time. That we should have stuck it out with the bass. Almost a mile of shoreline lay ahead of us. Pretty much out of the wind. That wind came up and stayed up. After it had been so nice. 

But mostly, it was the weeds. The shallow cove wasn't fishable. There was some kind of Scuba diving event going on where we caught smallmouths last year. And as I say, like Furnace Lake--much more weeds than last year. And that wind. A couple of other shorelines I just passed by, where we've caught bass in the past. We trolled all the way around Byram Cove, and where it was critical to get in close at the edges of shallows, we couldn't, because of weeds. 

I had a spot across Great Cove in mind that I gave up on before we would even try.

Kevin had the attitude. "You caught two good bass. There's no complaining about that."

It was a good day, and fishing the docks was tough. You really have to minimalize the water, hitting the targets and moving along. One of those bass I lost also came towards me, but to the side, and I didn't get a good hook set. The fish swam at high speed before I could completely get the curve out of my line. Another one was actually associated with weeds, so I believe it was a largemouth. (A lot of rocks exist around the docks we fished.) Again, I felt disoriented for a moment, as the bass had moved away with the worm without my knowing. I tightened up, set, and felt very heavy weight before the hook pulled out. All of them were good bass. 

I told Kevin, "When we fish in October, you're going to catch fish," which is true. We fish bait in October, which almost guarantees it.  

 

   

Early on, the smoke from Canada was thick.

Later, blue got through.

Kevin's Hybrid

 

Musky Hooked on HJ12 Husky Jerk

First he caught a hand-sized pumpkinseed to sacrifice to the musky gods...I'll give you a hint, it went to the channel cat demiurge...then he hooked a musky at least three feet long on an HJ12 Husky Jerk only minutes later with the pumpkinseed out under a couple of big bobbers. We both saw the musky jump. Intense. I thought 40 inches, but three feet is a conservative estimate. 

So we had the action we came for. It made Brian's day, and I'm glad for that. The outing ended well for me, too, because the magic hour affects everything living--me included. Placed in a good mood. And I knew it was possible a bass was going to take my Rebel Pop-R. That none did is less important than being there for them, my back not so sore as to disrupt my fishing. 

I had said to Brian earlier about that, "It's just a pain in the ass. I feared it could get so bad it would be disabling, but it's just something to deal with."

For some reason, there are a lot more weeds in Furnace Lake than last year on June 20th with Brenden Kuprel, when I remember catching most of my 15 bass from seven feet of water. We went yesterday with the intention of fishing muskies, but I told Brian I would try for bass, too, and he was good with trying for them himself. He mostly used the Husky Jerk, until it was lost to the musky. He also used a Berkley Nessie, which has a crippled side-to-side action like an underwater Zara Spook. Later towards evening, after he lost the Husky Jerk, he threw a double-bladed Mepp's. I threw a large single-bladed Mepps, but as I say, we didn't fish only muskies. For better or worse. Besides, I think so much heavy lure action might have worsened my back pain. Fishing a worm is easy on the back, and it's how I began my lackluster approach to the bass, with a Shim-E-Stick rigged Wacky. Putting it on the edge of thick weeds. I think of the irony of fishing with Oliver Round last week, who chose Lake Aeroflex when we did so well after I had wanted to try Furnace. I certainly was wise to accept Aeroflex once it was chosen and let Furnace be.

Yesterday, I soon realized I was fishing a lot deeper than I fished last June. The edge was about 11 feet deep. I switched to a Chomper's worm on an inset hook. (Later, by Brian's suggestion, I realized I might have done better had I used an inset hook in a Shim-E-Stick or Yum Dinger and just fished it straight rather than Wacky.) I did get a sudden pull on the slack that probably was a pumpkinseed like Brian caught or a bluegill. Something else ticked the line and took it aside, but though I fished edges and pockets alike, and I got the worm down towards the bottom, I never experienced that familiar strong pull of a bass. 

We lifted the Minn Kota and used a paddle to maneuver into the weeds, getting casts into shallow pockets. On one occasion, we saw big blow-ups back behind the thick of water chestnuts. I got the boat in close enough and cast a weedless frog. To no result. 

And we cast again for muskies. And I worked the Pop-R at the edges and in pockets, once again moving the boat into the thick just before we gave up. I backed us out so the electric motor wouldn't gather weeds, and after having kept the pumpkinseed under two bobbers and it's having become emaciated, Brian set it free...surely vulnerable to big channel cats in the lake.  

Brian Cronk fishes for a sunfish on the inside edge of thick weeds. His catch he used as musky bait.

Water chestnuts are an invasive vegetation that were cited as a reason to submit Lake Musconetcong to chemical treatment. There are a couple of fields of them in Furnace Lake, which I worked by retrieving a weedless frog over them.

Wonder if the beach will open.

2019

Bass Remain a Mystery Despite Publication Online

We haven't been to Blue Mountain Lake since 2015, when my wife, my son, and I searched for the nonexistent Upper Blue Mountain Lake, believing at the time that it did exist. We did find an area well grown over that looked like it might have been the lake before the dam was removed, but I'm not certain the lake ever existed, though it seems likely it did, given that many decades ago the area was a vacation community.. My uncertainty about Upper Blue Mountain Lake goes to show that even with the internet, facts can still elude their certain representation. All that's left to do is hit the trail and see for yourself. You find what looks like the imprint of an impoundment from many years ago, but you can't be altogether certain. You view the map featured by the best article on the situation you've found, and it looks like Upper Blue Mountain Lake was planned on but never created. 

I didn't fish during our 2015 visit, but in 2014, I did, when only my wife and I came. I caught a bass, but in the post on the outing I gave way to a rant about the Tocks Island Dam ordeal. In that post, I said the dam project was all for nothing, but given that the Delaware Water Gap Recreation Area came into being instead of the reservoir, it's clearly arguable that something good did come of it. It's good I've grown up since 2014, but I still feel sympathy for the people who lost their homes.

Today's bass came on my second or third cast with a Wacky rig. When we had walked the quarter mile or so into the lake from the parking lot, and I had got to the water's edge before my wife showed up, a young man got in the water and swam across to the island. I put a cast near where he had got in after she had settled, imaging that the swimmer's having stirred up the bottom might draw a bass over. It would have measured nearly 16 inches long.

I lipped the fish and carried it over to my wife. Standing in front of her sitting there, I held the bass, and she said, "Let's bring it home."

"Can't. Out of season." 

She loves largemouths, but I only bring one home if it's so badly hooked it bellies up. Most fishermen believe largemouths taste bad, but that was not the prevailing opinion of the 1950s and 60s.   

I continued to work my way toward the dam. A couple of trout anglers had taken position there in such a way that I could get around them and fish the corner where I caught the bass in 2014. But where I fished at present, I felt something peg the worm, and I set the hook into a little bass that got off. I did fish the corner to the right of the anglers in the photo below, but not much more than that. It's nice feeling satisfied with one fish, and there are times when that's a good catch. Besides, to really fish Blue Mountain Lake effectively, haul a kayak in. Or ice fish it.

I ended up hanging out with my wife and black Lab Loki before I made my trek to the corner, to be certain whether or not I would run into another bass. There's well to be said for relaxing beside a lake in the wild as if nothing else matters, and I lay on the grass and took it all in for about 20 minutes before I finally tried the corner. On my walk back, I tried my Merlin bird song identification app on my mobile device, only to be informed no service was available. 

Not only is there no service up there, the bass remain a secret, even as I write about them and publish online. If you want to catch some, you'll need to jockey in a kayak a quarter mile. Otherwise, consider one bass a good catch, and marvel at the mystery of all the rest. 

And at all that wild space, which nor very long ago was hundreds of affordable summer homes.  

Waterfall on Van Campens Brook, which I didn't fish.

The corner is to the right of the end of the grass.

2013

A Search Bait on the Slow Side

I wasn't expecting our success. I think Oliver asked me where we might fish, and I said Aeroflex or Furnace. I wanted him to choose, and he chose Aeroflex because he had hope for salmon. I had hoped we'd fish Furnace, water cool enough yet for muskies. Last I fished Aeroflex from a boat was June 2023. Brenden Kuprel and I fished about six hours and caught eight fish, most of them pickerel. A couple of Junes before that, in 2021, Jorge Hildago and I fished about six hours, getting skunked. Before that, in 2017, I fished Aeroflex with my son, Matt, and we caught three fish: two bass and a pickerel.

Given my lack of success in the past, it's understandable I'd feel surprised when Oliver quickly caught a trout on a trolled Hedden Sonic. We made another pass when my Phoebe got smacked hard, and Oliver caught yet another trout on a Rapala Countdown. We made another circular pass, trying to keep near the weeds in water deeper than 20 feet. I like the idea of trout and salmon attracted to the fertility. 

Nothing more happened, so we went through the shallows and into the deepest water beyond them, hundred-foot depths showing on the graph. 

Temps today never got out of the 50's. The water was 62, a good temperature for the trout and salmon, though I wasn't sure if it hadn't fallen too much and put the bass off. It definitely hadn't. We had a lot of rain. Oliver got chilled in the end, and I was glad we went in when we did, so he didn't suffer any worse. I wore a base layer under my pants, and another under a Woolrich shirt, a neoprene jacket over that, and a raincoat. I felt comfortable all day.  

As if we fished the steep shoreline drops of Tilcon Lake, I imagined the fishing as one and the same, only Aeroflex gets more pressure. At first I felt tempted to use a 1/16th-ounce jig with a little two-and-a-half-inch paddletail, That's how we fished two years ago, getting the jig down into 20-foot depths at the edge of the weeds, but only by using Wacky rigs to search out the weeds and wood in front of us did the fishing make sense today in the way it does at the other lake, and pretty soon, it paid off. The bass fought hard, and I measured it at 18 inches and imagined it must have weighed nearly three-and-a-half pounds. A fat fish. Minutes later, I caught my second, about 15 inches.

We worked our way down lake, catching bass. I watched Oliver hook one that we watched as he moved it from about four feet of water towards the depths where it got off. We believe that bass had to be at least 20 inches. No pickerel today, although one of them attacked Oliver's Wacky rig as he reeled it in to make another cast. I finished with a total of six bass; Oliver caught two. Most of mine were about 15 inches, though another one of them was 18 inches. You have to fish thoroughly. A Wacky rig isn't ideal. No rig is ideal for the weeds in May. If it were July, I'd have used an inset hook on a traditional worm. But the weeds haven't fully grown in yet, and even though a Wacky rig gets caught in the weeds, I can snap the worm free, and otherwise keep it from getting hung up by working it over the tops of the weeds. Fluttering the ends. Only one of my bass took the worm on the initial drop. The Wacky rig is a good one to use as a search bait, but a search bait on the slow side, and that worked very well today. I also caught a rainbow trout while trolling the Phoebe out over deep water on our way back to the launch ramp. We had fished a total of four hours.

 

2023

End of the Spring Season Trout

Fred arrived shortly after 11 when I worked on a poem set in the clamming life. I saved my work, shut down my laptop, and headed out the door, telling Fred he was free to ride with me. It took a minute or two to load his gear. 

I had told him we might do well because recent very high water interrupted the pressure on the fish, but it is Tuesday and the North Branch's last stocking day is tomorrow. Not to mention that Peapack Brook might not have been stocked in two weeks. But I believed in the possibility, though our first stop wasn't going to pan out. 

I began to think my worst fears might be the case. That the excessively high water last Wednesday meant the state didn't stock at all, and whatever few fish remained in the stretch got carried miles downstream! Fred had said we might get away with wet wading, but the drop in temperatures took us by surprise. I'm glad the temps got cold last night and never rose out of the 60s today, though, because the chilly water favored the trout, for sure.

So we put on our waders and walked into the AT&T stretch from River Road Park. I didn't even want to think of limiting the fishing to the spots and casting angles accessible from the bank. I catch a lot of trout there that way, but I wanted to reach the holding water from the bottom of the stretch to the head with no encumbrance. 

It was almost too deep with the camera slung around my neck and the bag getting a little wet. Fred pointed out, though, that the stretch has filled in a great deal recent years. We worked our way upstream. I got hit a couple of times. And then again near the end of our foray I did once, but suddenly, I saw a trout cut across my field of vision. And then shortly after I saw three or four of them holding on golf-ball sized stones where I would have stepped if I didn't see them first. I tried to get them interested in my salmon egg, and one of them seemed to take interest, but I never hooked up. I had already begun thinking of where to go next, and I caught myself thinking we should go directly to Peapack Brook. As if we'd catch nothing behind the police station. Instead, I told myself, "I don't know that."

Fred and I drove to Miller Lane and made our back to the river across the field. Conversation got our minds off the walk, which seemed to take a minute. 

I got hit right away. I kept getting hit. Finally, I caught one. We kept catching them. The action eventually slowed dramatically, but I still managed to lose another trout right out in front of me. By the time we felt ready to move, I had caught seven and Fred four. Fred got them on worms and maybe one on his favored jig. I was into a new jar of eggs.

The first series of stretches we tried apparently had no fish in them. I tried some very fishy-looking riffles and rocks with depths as much as two or three feet, but drew no interest at all and turned my attention to trying the waterfall before we would run out of time.

There we each caught two. 

Fred knew a bigger deep hole, and I was interested. There I caught one more, and Fred caught two, all four of his Peapack trout on the jig. 

Fred's been fishing the salt, hasn't caught a trout since he lived up here, I believe. He was very happy to do well today.

I happened to be framing Fred on the dam when he hooked up on the jig.

Last May