Never Underestimate the Ability to Remember an Outing

I felt surprised we found water about 25 feet deep. We had parked at the East Picnic Area and began walking towards the dike, the pond's 30 acres being a fairly large space. I guess Oliver started cutting holes halfway there. 

With deep water not all that far from the bank, I made sure we opened and otherwise cut holes just off that bank over about 10 feet of water. Any pickerel would surely hit there, possibly bass, too, but I wasn't sure the bottom was weedy. 

Years ago, I used to walk this far and further towards the back of the pond when fishing on lunch breaks while otherwise working for Affinity Federal Credit Union. I caught bass, and I observed the water. I don't recall any weeds...until I got closer to the back of the pond where it is very weedy, but very shallow.

As I headed for where we'd cut holes today, I asked someone with tip-ups set nearer the pond's back if he'd caught anything. "A pickerel," he said. 

So I set a line of five tip-ups along about a hundred yards of bank-front. We had arrived at about 1:30 and had to be out of the park by 4:00, so we'd be packing it in before 3:30. I didn't have much faith in our setup, but Oliver did. In the past, my ice fishing partner and I had always taken at least four hits while fishing this pond. Oliver had set his Jaw Jackers in water at least 25 feet deep, except for one of them set way out towards the swimming beach, where the depth had come back up to maybe 15 feet. 

I was glad some of our shiners and fatheads were set out there, because I want to know about any bass. In 2022, we set a Jaw Jacker over 25 feet of water near the dike, which got hit. I had the fish on for only a second or two, though, and couldn't rule out a catfish. 

When Oliver caught his largemouth--over 15 inches, maybe 16 inches--in 25 feet of water on a little fathead minnow, another piece of the puzzle fell into place. I've never caught, nor seen bass caught, that deep in 49 years of ice fishing. It makes sense they'd go that deep, because the water's a little warmer, but do they inhabit the pond's deepest water of 40 or 45 feet? I would like to set a device that deep sometime.

Once I got my crampons over my Irish Setter pac boots, I marveled at the stupidity of having ice fished for 49 years without a pair. The ice was slippery today, but it could have been a lot worse, and in the past I've been on ice I shouldn't have been on without crampons. Just last week, I almost broke an arm and almost destroyed my Nikon D7100 camera, which, having hung loosely from my neck, got slammed against ice. What explains that other than stupidity? 

When ice as seen in the two photos is slippery, imagine what it's like when like that after the temperature rises above 32. Truly treacherous. I've been on ice like that, and it's almost impossible to walk on without cleats or crampons. That is, when there's a very thin melt, not yet the kind of melt that makes the ice soft. It doesn't always happen. I remember, in 2019, Brian Cronk and I ventured out on five inches of ice with the temp below freezing, having no trouble walking on it. Black ice. Newly formed. No snow on top. The temperature rose quickly to about 50, and we never had any problem with slippery ice. As we walked out, the ice was soft on top. Maybe if the temp had risen only to 33 or 34, it would have been slippery. Not sure how it works out. 

Apparently, the temperature today never got above 29. Holes froze up pretty quickly.

I'm linking to my first ice outing on the pond, my son's, too. It seems impossible that was seven years ago. You probably hear all the time about how fast time goes by, but it really does pass quickly. I'll give you a little advice, if you're interested. Get out and fish. We both know life consists in more than just fishing, anyway, so I see no harm in persuading for just a little more of it, perhaps. I wouldn't worry about fish populations. Oliver and I talked about how infrequently we see guys in their 20's out there fishing. Give fishing another five generations and you might worry about fish populations even less. I, for one, love to spend hours absorbed in reading a book, instead of fishing. I'm no intellectual genius who can read a page per second, though I'm informed that what you see in Good Will Hunting is no lie. There are people who can do that. No, I will lay back with a book deeply absorbed in it for as long as three hours at a time. Everything else going on around me tuned out. That's a longer span of time than Oliver and I fished today, and it's deeply rewarding to do that. But it's rewarding to fish, too, and you can measure the fact against your ability to remember fishing outings. You probably remember many throughout your lifetime, while daily chores are forgotten as easily as the daily news.  

Crampons marked trails on the ice.

About Private Ice Fishing, Too

Nice Pickerel

 

 

Ice at the Valley

It got really cold, in case you missed the news. Colder than forecast. My wife had -7 on her thermometer, leaving for work at 7:00 a.m. yesterday. That's Bedminster, not Sandyston in Sussex County, where it was colder. It explains ice all the way across Round Valley Reservoir to the right side of the photo, shot from the camper's boat launch. 

Oliver Round was out fishing elsewhere, in Morris County, where he had five inches of ice last he was there. Friday last week? Nine inches today. 

Also frozen is the corner to the left of the Main Boat Launch. 

There's as much as two or three inches of ice--very suddenly, I was there when the snow began and not a trace--where they keep the park ranger boat. 

I also checked out options for getting on the Swimming Pond, and I found there's a DEP No Trespassing sign where the short trail leads onto the ice from the back of the Main Launch Parking Lot. I asked about it at the office, and I was told that indeed they're not allowing access there. (Another case of denied access.) They have nothing against anyone ice fishing anywhere on the pond, except for along the swimming beach, perhaps, but you have to be off the ice and out of the park by 4:00 p.m.

My suggestion is to heed the law and access the pond only from the East Picnic area. Go ahead and enjoy the long walk in, packing to leave well before 4:00 p.m. I agree, it's not fair to us. Access should be reasonable, and we should be able to fish at least until dusk, but don't upset them. That's what happened in the first place with COVID. People broke rules. People took the power from their control. That's why we have no access near the dike. 

As things are, we're allowed to ice fish on the reservoir and on the Pond. 

That's plenty generous as it is. 

A While Back

 

Vegetation on the Bottom Decomposes Quickly

At least that's as it seems. I was at the reservoir Thursday for a photography session, and I saw a lot of it that sticks above the surface is dead, dried out, and about to disintegrate. I also noticed clean bottom where I'd expect to see vegetation lingering from when the low-water exposure was a field of the stuff. 

In any event, catching trout from shore is quite possible. I spoke to someone three weeks ago who had caught two rainbows. They usually reach the shoreline shallows in mid-September, when the surface temp falls to 70. 

I haven't actually heard of trout caught since, but it's a reasonable assumption to think that if a couple got caught, more have followed and probably preceded. 

I have no plans to fish for them until late December, when I hope Fred Matero joins my son and me again. I just don't have time otherwise. I'm still busy with the photography, because I'm just doing my best to capture changes in the reservoir landscape. My hope is that I can glean a hundred or more photos from my collection of thousands for a book of Round Valley photography. And if that's too much to ask, the collection certainly exists. 

We've just seen the lowest reservoir levels in its history. We may never again see such low water. I was there, week after week, photographing results. In all those years, I never once met anyone else with a tripod, let alone rarely anyone with a DSLR. 

For your own reference, if you're interested in giving shoreline trout a shot, the reservoir level has dropped a couple feet, which means a few yards or more of space for easy casting. We just haven't got rain, and New Jersey Water Supply Authority probably pumped some water out so Somerville gets some water from the Raritan. 

Big Brown

Annual Trout Outing at the Reservoir

By mistake, I set my alarm for P.M., so when I woke at 7:48, I knew I was 34 minutes late, and the possibility of us setting up on the point was threatened.

First, Matt and I went to The Sporting Life in Whitehouse more than half an hour after they had opened. Two dozen shiners, fishing licenses, and maribou jigs. Nice ones for less than I'd have spent online. Those are for the rivers.

We soon got to Round Valley, and Matt hauled stuff towards the point and returned, as I packed more stuff, to tell me there were fishermen on it. 

I figured they wouldn't be there all day.

In the meantime, we did our best to get all the distance we could out of each cast. It doesn't drop steeply there in front. I knew we could pack out and fish further along the shoreline towards the main ramp, where the water does drop off faster, but I wanted us to take the point when it would become available.

In the meantime, Fred had arrived, and conversation flowed. 

A fish jumped right out in front of us almost exactly where either myself or Matt had put a shiner down. About 10 minutes later, line peeled off the spool of my son's Cadence reel. Laker? Brown? No, rainbow. And five or 10 minutes later, Fred caught a smaller one--about 15 inches--on Power Bait. 

A pod of rainbows had come and was gone as fast. Nothing else happened all day but the yellow perch I caught. I didn't expect lakers. The weather was too mild--in the 40's. Yes, I bought shiners, as if to be sure lakers wouldn't hit any, but although the rainbows surprised me, I did come confident in us making catches.

We weren't the only who did. A guy in a kayak came along, telling me about two smallmouths of about two pounds apiece on jerkbaits. I was impressed. He said, "I lost something too big to be a bass. Maybe a laker." Who knows. Maybe it was a monster pickerel. My friend Brenden told me about one over nine pounds hooked back in Ranger Cove. 

Apparently, the guys on the point got skunked. They did leave and give us more than three hours of fishing right there, where water drops off better, but only the yellow perch happened. 

 

Last Year

 

Smallmouths Along the Opposite Bank

 

I worked my job yesterday, and I found constantly being on my feet put enough stress on the back for pain to accumulate. (I was hospitalized recently for spinal stenosis. It caused severe back pain.) I got control of pain and uncertainty near the end of my shift, when confidence grew and eliminated fear; I soon drove home confident that today's fishing would work out.

I met Mark in the lot by the river, moments after I'd got my wading boots on. Seeing him again, it was as if weeks had passed, rather than more than a year. We walked the trail downstream doing our best to catch up on our lives, deciding to start fishing upstream of how far down we went last year. I made my way back upstream at a swift pace, because I wasn't finding holes nor the wide, long slow stretch I fished early July last year, then losing a very big bass on a Rapala #5 floater. There were no spots like that. The water was a series of rapids, and I managed to find three big boulders and associated rocks creating pocket eddies. These spots looked promising for smallmouths, but I pulled a longear sunfish from each of them, using an eighth-ounce jig with a little green paddletail. 

Soon I was back at my car, having found I left the driver's side window open. I called Mark. He was well downstream. No bass. Some sunnies and chubs. I found the wide slower stretch I had missed, where I caught more sunfish, including a bluegill, and a couple of very small bass. Using the Rapala #5.

I slowed down. The temptation is to fish fast and move on, as if any bass present would hit on the first cast. That's not necessarily true. It's also the case that by slowing down, you better absorb surroundings and take notice of things you wouldn't have by a cursory once-over. That will not only clue you into fish; it will qualify your experience, making you feel better and improving your health. My wading became more certain. I had been afraid that uneven rocks might kick my back out again, but once I became sure of my experience, I realized my worries were absurd. When I'm 80 I might be challenged on uneven rocks in a river, but for now my steps remain sure. 

I paid careful attention to the bank across from me. Repeatedly, fish hit my Rapala just after it touched down near the edge, and I wasn't so sure they were all sunnies. I would cast there, then cast elsewhere to give the bank a break. Finally, I laid a cast inches from the bank where the Rapala got whalloped. The drag screeched for a moment, and then the bass was gone.

Later, I told Mark it might have been 11 or 12 inches. He showed me the photo of his big one. I felt amazed we had got one that big. Last year we lost two that were even bigger, but to have encountered yet another nice bass in these stretches I guess I hadn't expected. I watched him catch another of about nine inches. I caught more sunfish, a fallfish, and another very small bass. We had worked our way further downstream than we fished last year, by what I could judge. Another rather slow, wide, and long stretch. 

When quitting time approached, I got out of the river and relaxed by sitting on a boulder. Mark got into position relative to the far bank where he hooked his big one. He began pulling some sunfish out and the nice rock bass I photographed.

"There's a hole right there in the middle of the concrete where it's broken-in. The fish are staging in it.," Mark said.

He also told me he was about to go, so I decided I'd offer a last try. A couple of minutes before we slogged out, I stood next to him when I hooked and caught an average stream bass of about nine inches on the Rapala, me just laughing out loud because I had been feeling that I had come up short. No bass even close to average size until the last minutes. 

As we walked the trail back to the cars, clouds overhead had closed out sunlight, and both of us spoke of feeling the difference in atmospheric pressure. Mark mentioned it wasn't humid, and I readily agreed, but each of us felt rain coming. The last moment before each of us slipped into our vehicles, thunder boomed overhead.

Big Rock Bass

Salmon Falls River

Big Brown Trout and Lakers at Round Valley

A week ago I began planning on today. I soon ruled out ice fishing, because I realized today might be my son Matt's only shot at the laker he'd never caught before. Come to think of it, I realized also, he had never caught a brown, either. So I daydreamed about what shiners can do. Two years ago or so, I saw a six-pound brown posted on Facebook. Caught from shore at Round Valley. I daydreamed of Matt catching one...not as big, but close. No reason to push my luck. I daydreamed as if it actually would happen. I'm like a child that way. Playing in the fields of my mind.

It's not six pounds. DSLR cameras are truth tellers. Mobile device cameras are magic. I believe there are people who think that brown is pushing eight pounds. I never said how big it is on Facebook. The laker--Matt's first and only--in the photo below is one inch shorter in length. True, it weighed a lot less. But the brown is only four pounds, 12 ounces on my Rapala electronic scale. And only 23 inches long.

We got to the Sporting Life around 9:20, and after we parked in Lot 2, some guy was walking out with a brown of about 20 or 21 inches. Said his buddy had a nice rainbow on Power Bait. Well, that fish wasn't much over 15 inches, but they had got there around 8:00 and enjoyed a bite. 

Matt and I waited hours. We fought the cold. Had a propane hand warmer that helped. Matt did miss a hit on Power Bait. Actually, the line broke on hookset. One rod was baited with the stuff. 

Then, around 2:00, I walked to the car to get a stringer, just in case. Take home some lakers for dinner. I ran into someone in orange weather overalls on the road who said I looked familiar, so I told him my first name.

"You knew me when I was a little kid," he said.

He looked to be about 21. "You were the kid who caught that two-foot-long rainbow," I said. This back around 2014 when I was a lunch hour regular.

"Yeah!" he said.

Nick seemed to bring the fish in, because once he was there fishing with us, action began. He fished a Binsky and did catch a laker before the park closed at 4:00. I caught a little one of about 15 inches, and another 20 1/2. Besides the two trout Matt caught, he missed yet another hit on Power Bait. He could have caught a "trifecta"! 

Why push one's luck? Ask for too much, and next time you'll be ignored. Why is a "trifecta" so special, anyhow? Especially after one's had a day as great as we enjoyed today.

I seem as if I'm a little superstitious about things, but basically, I notice patterns as they unfold. I didn't actually dream up Matt's brown, but why daydream unless to prepare for an event? You even keep it cool by not dreaming the unlikely, so you get just the amount that's reasonable without pushing your luck and making your daydream feel "off" instead of somehow spot on.

It's daydreaming but rational judgment. 

I stood next to one of my rods. I had got a really good cast with it back around 9:45. I stood there and went back and forth in my mind for three or four minutes over whether to reel in the shiner, make sure it's still there, and recast perhaps somewhere else. Don't I seem like a dingbat unable to make up my mind? Doesn't outdoor pursuit require swift and decisive action? But three or four minutes is how long it took me to arrive upon being sure what to do about that rod. From within. 

I was sure of leaving it be.

Five minutes later it leapt off the rock holding it off the gravel and sand. I hooked our first trout of the day. After all those frigid hours.

Imagine had I put that rod elsewhere. (It would have been "sensible" to do that.) That rod in the spot that caught all three lakers.

Matt's brown came not too long thereafter, but on the rod set furthest from our makeshift camp. Matt had gone and checked on it, finding all the line unraveled from the spool, but the anchor knot holding. It was a long, drawn out battle. Once the great fish broke surface wildly, far out from us. Once I netted it, the day's fulfillment was complete.  

Trout from Shore

 

Round Valley Options

I got my stuff down by the water ahead of Fred, and while I began sticking rod holders into mud submerged an inch or two (the ground frozen), I heard a whoop, looked, and saw one of the guys nearby with a rod doubled over. As I approached him, I feared I would see a laker in the net, which is just what I saw. Nineteen-incher.

Fred shuffled down with his stuff, and I told him about the fish. Then I asked if he had a bucket in his car.

"No, I just took it out."

Later on, Fred told me he didn't even think of them, but I had debated in my head a little over whether to bring shiners or not. I finally decided it isn't a laker day. Thirty-five degrees not cold enough. Deep down, though, I just didn't want the hassle. I've been busy. The least I could have done was think of putting a bucket in my trunk. I didn't think.

I could have taken a quick ride to the Sporting Life for a dozen-and-a-half. 

Fred and I fished about three-and-a-half hours. Something took a piece of one of his marshmallow and mealworms, but I think that was a sunfish. Unless a trout would actually bite a piece off a little marshmallow. His rod tip did jiggle a couple of times. 

The guys next to us had caught four lakers and lost another at the net when we packed to go. The biggest 23 inches. Smallest 18. Two other guys near us had two lakers from where I fished with my family in November. One on Power Bait. One on a shiner. They appeared to be about 18 and 20 inches. I had fished orange Power Bait the whole time. No takers.

Fred and had sat on foldout chairs, talking constantly. He's lived down the shore two years as of tomorrow. Talking never ended until we each drove off in separate vehicles. In the parking lot, I told him about my dream of creating a book of Lake Hopatcong photos, in addition to Round Valley, but that I'll probably have to self-publish. I added that I might have to self-publish the trout book, too, but that there are many more options today for doing that. I made some comment or other about having options of all sorts once I retire in two years and some. He told me as much from experience, since he's been retired for more than two years. You have options. 

Had options today, too. So maybe next time.

Nice Rainbow Round Valley

 

So Far I'm Behind Last Year's Score

Got the urge to get out and fish. Otherwise, I'd have stayed home and continued my long quest to understand WordPress before I build a site. That one's going to be my author site, my main hub, eventually hosting galleries of photos, too, but not nearly as many as I have on Windows and on hard drives. One of my friends suggested I sell my book through a website, because he's seen how hard it is to make a go of being sponsored by a tackle company. I acknowledge it's possible my book on microlight spinning for trout won't get published by a small traditional publisher. If I do run out of all possibilities in that respect, I'll turn my attention to self-publishing. Either way, a website where I might be able to promote my book better than I can on Blogger is important to have.

I stayed out in the rain--using my Honda as shelter for most of the time--going on two hours. I never got a hit. Used orange Power Bait by the Main Boat Launch. So far this cold weather season I'm behind last year's score. Will be back. I might fish a river next Tuesday, but Fred and I intend to fish Round Valley on the 20th.   

 

Family Round Valley Fishing

Me, Matt, and his Mom set up foldout chairs and enjoyed the mild weather at the Valley for some three hours. Cloudless sky overhead, I told Matt the rainbows might be 50 feet deep. Maybe they just weren't passing by our Powerbait, but in any case, we never got a hit. Six lines out, varying depths.

I had taken an inviting attitude. I vaguely felt I might enjoy the afternoon. That we would. I get so involved in all else I'm busy with...it's not like I'm a technical genius, not at all, but I'm deep in research on how to build a Wordpress website...so busy that I forget how interesting and fulfilling a fishing trip is. 

Even when it's just throw Powerbait and wait. That wait loses all anxiety and little things become intensely interesting. They say an acid trip is the same way. I was sitting on the dry, dusty dirt--because, thankfully, we had only two foldout chairs--pulling clams from under the surface of the soil. Clams I couldn't open. Little ones. But just large enough to throw in the water, as if maybe I saved more than a dozen lives.  

 

Tried for Round Valley Trout

My son's over from Costa Mesa, CA. We went to Round Valley yesterday, his mother along. I felt astonished at how steeply the main launch drops off, there to the right of where boats go in. Looks like the water level is eight feet lower than this time last year.

We fished. Got six lines out. It began raining the moment we got there. Rain volume increased while we waited on the take that never came. (Trish sat in the car. We joined her.)

Orange Powerbait. It worked last year. And you'd think that with a steady rainstorm just coming on, trout would hit. But trout don't think. And besides, nature is more complex than any thinking we do. 

Sheet of Ice on Round Valley Reservoir Cove

Went over to Round Valley for photography yesterday, and I found the corner at Lot 2 frozen over by a thin sheet. The photo makes the scene appear, perhaps, as if the height from the ice to the top of the point across from where I stood is maybe six feet, but it's close to 26 feet. When I got there, a man and woman walked the edge of the ice, and though I tried to snatch a good shot, I blew the shot and they were gone. But before I trashed the photo, because out of focus, I marveled at how small they seemed. You can see a black space just above the whitish edge. They weren't even as tall as where the brush begins to appear.

I was surprised there was any ice on the reservoir at all, but it would have a long way to go... 

Later...I stand corrected. I still had a copy of the image:

They're to the right near the iced-over cove corner.

Some Ice Action

Oliver Round and I fished Round Valley Pond this morning, beginning at 14 degrees. In the photo, his pickerel had just broken off at the hole. We missed four other hits. 

When I last ice fished here, four years ago with my son, we caught three pickerel, and he lost one at the hole. He caught one 22 inches and let a college girl, who with a friend had fallen into conversation with him, catch one.

When we got out today, there was another guy fishing in the distance near the beach. We did see him catch something. Another guy came and set most of his tip-ups over water about 45 feet deep, and a party of three went way into the back where there's a shallow flat.

We got most of our hits relatively shallow, about 10 feet down among residual weeds, although another one was from 15 feet or so of water. The great exception was something taking a shiner in about 25 feet of water, which might have been a bass. I see no reason for the bass having not receded into the pond's deepest 45 feet, except that there's surely not enough forage there to keep them fed.

2018

Trout on Power Bait

Matt and I rode over to Round Valley, where I decided to see if Dave Delucca was at the ramp, instead of going directly through the main gate. He was there, and had caught two rainbows. Got to meet Matt. The three of us talked. Dave was curious about Matt's work on the fusion reactor. (I realized after we got home that I had forgotten to tell Matt that Dave's son was drafted by the Yankees. He never got to play for them, but he managed to have college paid for.)

One of our rods got hit after 10 minutes or so; Matt took it and missed the hit. We had two rods baited with shiners, two with orange Power Bait. The hit came on Power Bait. Matt insisted that the next hit would be mine.

It came as dusk began to fall and we were about to leave. Stripped line off the spool rapidly, but turned out to be a little 14- or 15-inch rainbow, on Power Bait. 

Round Valley With Matt

Merry Christmas to you.

Matt's back from California. We bought shiners at The Sporting Life and headed over to Round Valley, rigging one rod with Power Bait, also. Otherwise, we fly cast. Woolly Buggers. And as you can see in the photo, relaxed.

Guy next to us caught one about 18 inches on Power Bait.

We talked about Matt's main project at work--devising a way and measuring the plasma density of the cold fusion reactor. The company isn't producing fusion energy yet, but it might get there and be the first to do it. We also talked about his vacation coming this spring, when he hopes to hike a mountain north and west of Los Angeles. The base of the trail is at about sea level, and from there it's a 10,000-foot ascent to the summit. He remarked that its the same vertical elevation as Mount Everest from the base camp.

 

Nice Rainbow Round Valley

Wife went to Manhattan. I decided against going because rainy, cold, and I can do without the risk of getting COVID. Wait until summer. I've seen enough of Andy Warhol, anyway. Got bored working on my book. Lonely, really. So I took Sadie and headed over to Round Valley, where Dave DeLucca showed after 10 minutes. He shot me with the trout.

Orange Power Bait. Left the bail open. Good thing, because both of us were surprised at the rush and big loop of line going out.

Released. 

RV Trout on Big Rat-L-Trap

Got home from visiting my dad in time to ride over to Round Valley with my black Lab Sadie, and dunk Power Bait, hoping to duplicate Dave DeLucca's success on same last week. Never happened. 

But as dusk came on, a young guy walked down and began throwing a plug. After five minutes, I suddenly heard splashes, looked, and saw a rainbow of about 16 or 17 inches in the air. It was hooked well out & away from shore, too. Later on, I watched the guy and he didn't seem to be letting the plug sink. A big Rat-L-Trap.

I congratulated him on his fish. He certainly was happy. And I told him it's good to see one get caught on a Rat-L-Trap, instead of the Power Bait I was using.

Some Trout at Round Valley

DeLucca releasing his rainbow

Got a jolt today, over at Round Valley. Came with my wife and black Lab Sadie, shooting photos. I was just walking over to my wife when Dave DeLucca drove down, window opening, "Bruce, how's it's going?

"I haven't seen you in years!" I said.

I used to run into him when I fished here. Realized as we spoke for half an hour, that the last I did fish here was about two years ago. After I crossed the gravel to meet up with my wife, before we made headway back to the car, I saw Dave set the hook, so I hurried over and watched him catch a rainbow. Another guy had just driven down and come over to watch. He led me back to the catch of his wife and him, asked me to photograph him with it, two of them 15-inch lakers.

I've been over there at least twice a month all year, and almost always, I see no one fishing, although more often than not, I park over at Lot 2, through the main gate. I believe last I was at the main ramp, no one was fishing then, either, so today felt surprising. 

 

Don't Sit Down, It's Time to Dig Another One

I phoned Stanhope Bait & Boat before I left, sure the hours would be the same, and they were--Saturday and Sunday only. I really wanted to ice fish, and I thought if she was open, I might swing by and then head over to Budd Lake. Oliver Round had to quarantine, so our plans to ice fish Tilcon were dashed. Also, I woke two hours late this morning, having set my alarm for pm by mistake. I had to go over to Autosport Honda to get plates put on and pick up the registration. No way would I go all the way over to The Sporting Life--just as well, because I later found they closed at 2. And not Dow's, either. 

So I headed over to Round Valley in a nasty mood for yet another photo shoot. (And still need yet another because it seems I need to focus shift on a narrower aperture setting. In all that brilliant sunlight, it was hopeless trying to see images on the camera's display.) Before I left, I had a quiet moment when I told myself I would go over there and get taken out of the wretchedness.

It did take awhile. You go in and do your damn working-class job day after day and it changes you. Makes you bitter and depressed (anger turned inward). All day long you do little mundane tasks when you're the kind of person to do things that require much more intelligence. You tried to get a better job, but they required a degree. 

As I might have said before, one outing, even a short one like today's, beats a full week of all that nonsense saturated by music like Taylor Swift. 

Home, home again. (I like to be here, when I can.) I felt the certainty--on Sunday, I'm ice fishing. My brother Rick is also quarantined. Brian is going through back treatment and might not be able to go. If not, I'm going to Budd or Aeroflex. Reports from Budd speak of 10 inches and even with the mild weather and some rain, it should still be safe. 

 

Round Valley Ramp Plowed

Didn't see any boats out, but the ramp is ploughed.

Spent time in the Ranger Cove area, and I enjoyed walking more than photography, which isn't to say I didn't enjoy the shooting. True, though. I didn't find time to get a series of focus-stacked shots of the North Tower. 

I'll just have to go back and get the shots.

 

Round Valley after All

I turned Matt on to my favorite spot at Round Valley this evening, but he got skunked. I told him afterwards I hope that some May after the reservoir fills again, we can fish it. I once caught a five-pound largemouth here & told his Uncle Rick. The next day I got a phone call and invitation to meet him and his friend. They were over there. He drove from Brick.