Florida for Two Weeks: Fish and Read up in Meantime

Since early April, I've blogged daily with few exceptions. And the plan was to take  my lap top to the Keys, but I couldn't find information about wifi on Big Pine, and my son is adament that I lay off the blogging on vacation so that we just flow with it and put all our needed mental detail to fishing and searching for reptiles, what they call herping. He insists we bring no computers even if wifi is available, and I comply in part because this is an amazing request coming from his generation. It's evident that my exposing him to the real world has actually worked, not that he is not a whiz with these machines and mere representations of reality we call virtual.

Who would have thought there would come a day when people who much of the time live in realty became rare, and most make contact from behind screens? If they make real personal contact at all, perhaps it is contact only with artificial products--digital keyboard, eyes on the screen, etc., etc., to the point that when they step outside, their senses never really come out of such artificial conditionings. Well, in the 19th century, wealthy women wore white gloves a lot, rather than to touch anything directly. 

In the 70's we thought they were absurd prudes. Not that everyone's become a girly guy.

So while I'm away for about two weeks--plenty of photos almost guaranteed on return: baracuda, amberjack maybe, maybe tarpon, shark, groupers, snappers--you can explore my archives if you want. They're to the right, just click. Most posts directly address you on how to go about catching fish and/or by thematic account for specific outings. A few pieces really take liberty on themes that go beyond fishing, but fishing always grounds the abstraction, because it's what I do to come to my senses.

Adirondack Lake and Stream Fishing

One hundred thirty seven miles almost due west--somewhat to the north--from Pulaski, we followed county roads to a remote Scout camp near Long Lake (yet further away than those distant mountains photographed, Long Lake the nearest town). I felt like a fool following directions from Map Quest--no GPS of course. Out here in Nowhere, perhaps guidelines get overlooked. I finally found a tiny general store in some remote hamlet that sold maps, but no New York state map available. By the time we came upon a real Adirondack Tourist Trap, I knew it pointless to buy a map. I felt sure of where I was. I've been in the park a number of times.

My high school friends and I stopped at a creek and caught a number of rainbow trout on the way to the High Peaks--Marcy, Algonquin... We hiked seven mountains over a long weekend in 1979 and caught fish besides, but Saturday and Sunday I got skunked.

Apparently the 50-acre or so lake at the camp has trout only, those few and deep. It looks ideal for smallmouth bass and the tannic coloration is less than that of Long Lake, but none of the Scouts have caught any over the years, and I gave it a good hour-and-a-half's test and long walk into the back, got cut and scratched and my boots soaked.

Long Lake is good. One glance around the public launch assured me. And I've heard stories. I know someone who caught a pike over 20 pounds ice fishing Long Lake in recent years, and I walked into a canoe and kayak rental with a big pike mount on the wall to humbly ask permission to fish along the rip rap shoreline leading out behind it to a spillway from the pond above. Doing something like that always gives me the heebee jeebies, but to have boldly broken the curtesy barrier was unthinkable for me, and I wanted to fish. The woman was nice as can be and added that I should not go beyond the bridge over the spillway, as that marked another property.

The Adirondacks feature many hundreds of lakes and ponds, and streams galore ranging from brook trout rills to the Ausable and Hudson Rivers, the former famous for fly fishing trout, and the later holding brown trout and smallmouth bass. The Hudson originates at Lake Tear of the Clouds in the park. In 1979, we stood on Mt. Marcy summit and gazed down below at this small lake and tiny Hudson flowing out. Northern pike fishing is very good in most lakes, along with brook, brown, rainbow and lake trout, as well as landlocked salmon in many. Smallmouth and largemouth bass are plentiful with pickerel present in some lakes and ponds.

Best part of this leg of my 800-mile drive involved just hanging out with fellow Scout parent friends. I didn't want to stay all week, and I didn't stay all week. My mind never wavered on the matter. But for one afternoon, evening, night and long, drawn out brreakfast, it was the sort of good time that if you pass them up altogether, life slips through your fingers like water.

Lunker Smallmouth Bass, Brown Trout or Atlantic Salmon, in View but Off Limits

The Salmon River's flow level is adjusted by hydroelectric dam release. When we arrived yesterday, the river flowed low and invitingly. Late last night the level rose and today remained higher. We began fishing at the Black Hole this morning at about 8:30, 60 feet deep with beautiful shallower currents, ledges, and eddies. Turbidity turned me off, but I did get a few hits from something on a Mepp's #1. I figured maybe the risen water level had stirred up the river to reduce clarity, but felt relieved to later find clearer water upstream.

We made a whole day outside except for lunch at a sub shop. We caught a dozen bass on plugs and shiners, fly fished for hours, Matt catching a couple of rock bass on a big, brown Wooly Bugger, while a couple of fallfish fell for my large stonefly beadhead. Snorkeling at Altmar in the fly fishing section afforded us views of great fish we couldn't attempt since it's closed from May until September 14th  We spotted in this section about half a dozen smallmouth bass around four pounds, one five- pounder, and either a brown trout or Atlantic salmon of about eight pounds. I also noticed a number of rainbow trout six to nine-inches long spawned from thousands of steelhead.

We got around. More than half a dozen spots got our attention. Compared to yesterday, today felt different. With limited time to fish, I felt driven to make every cast count last evening and the two good bass we caught rewarded the effort. Today never fell into sync as strictly a fishing effort. Taking time out to swim and snorkel, to practice fly casting, and to just slow down and enjoy being outside took precedence over trying to score. It made a difference in my life to slow down and just let my physical senses reign for many hours.

Matt sighted a smallmouth of about five pounds with just enough daylight left to see, last evening, and I spotted it today, which explains the shiners. This bass was not at all eager to take the Strike King worm as others had been. We trie for this bass today by scheme, making sure to have half a dozen large shiners for sunset. But it didn't cooperate.

More elusive than five-pound smallmouth bass in the Salmon River this time of year perhaps, Atlantic salmon are a thrilling possibility. I came upon no one targeting them singularly, but what a reward one of these most valued gamefish would be!

Smallmouth Bass Salmon River

We fished by 5:30 p.m., quitting at 9:15. I got word in Pulaski before we got our sneakers wet that smallmouth bass fishing on the Salmon River is relatively slow. The stories I have heard over the past few years amazed me, but I had a feeling we wouldn't have 100 bass-a-day action.

We got two good-size bass and a few others over 12 and 14 inches. I caught eight, Matt three, but he had butterfingers, having taken as many hits as I did.

He caught a bass on his first cast with a Storm Hot 'n Tot crankbait. Plenty of light yet on the water, the silver sides reflected great flashes, and my silver Rat-L-Trap did much the same. I had one hit on the plug, having waded upstream along the stretch a couple hundred yards before I switched to a five-inch Senko-type (Strike King) worm rigged wacky. I chose crayfish brown and stuck to this. I missed a couple of light takes that later I felt sure were rock bass, since I caught a couple of these over the course of the outing.

Matt and I returned to the deeper, slower pool at the bottom length of the stretch, surprised how far shadow had advanced.

"It's amazing how you forget time when fishing," I said.

It amazes me even more now as 1:00 a.m. approaches at the Steelhead Lodge near Pulaski. I had a nice bass on in no time many hours ago now that seems minutes, and for awhile had taken a hit on every cast.

"How are you doing that!?" Matt said.

"When we got here, we saw no bass at all in that sunlit water. They were under rocks and now they're out in the open. Each cast I make to a completely different range--all the way across, then straight up to my right. Bass may dart 15 or 20 feet to grab the worm, so when I get a hit there, the next cast I aim to a different place with the intent to come back around later. The hits are coming within two seconds of the worm hitting water."

Matt walked around and upstream of where I fished and nailed our best bass.

We drove to three more areas, and caught more bass at the last of these. At the Trestle Pool we found a recently dead Atlantic Salmon of about eight pounds. Joe here at Steelhead Lodge informs me that bass fishermen connect with Atlantic Salmon fishing plugs for bass from time to time.

After dinner we went back out to try for big brown trout. We had gone into Pulaski first thing to try to buy Muddler Minnows. Only small ones available, we bought big, bushy streamers with foam heads instead of with bead weights. We soaked them with floatant. The idea involved stripping them right across the surface of our deep hole of choice.

On Matt's third cast--I was still rigging up, but happened to be watching--something gargantuan erupted upon his streamer. It worked. But Matt didn't hook the fish. We fished over an hour savoring the night and the mystery of the strike. Matt caught a fallfish.

I had the notion to abandon ourselves to the night, to fish at least a few more pools for several hours and forget about blogging. At least I did feel this and I hope that Matt does as he grows into his most vital years. It just didn't really grab me, but for the nearly four hours that we fished in daylight, I never took a half-willed step.

Lake Hopatcong Smallmouth Bass and Walleye: Beating a Blue Sky

Like last year, our July Lake Hopatcong trip threatened to skunk us for the first couple of hours. Not a cloud in the sky, we had arrived at Dow's Boat Rentals at 5:10 (they opened 5 or 10 minutes before 5:30) in jackets. As if we ventured  within an alternative space amidst this heat wave, it was a little chilly before sunrise with classic cold front conditions, although when we left the lake after noon, cumulus and patchy clouds had arrived and the temperature had moved close to 90.

We began not at the sharp drop-off, but further in where a recent great catch was reported to have come. We stayed maybe 15 minutes and marking nothing on the graph, the drop no better. So on we hustled. Marking no fish, I quickly moved us to where I felt some confidence.

It didn't take long for this 18-inch smallmouth to take a herring in about 20 feet of water, but suspense in the meantime we felt, not wanting to get skunked. I think the bass swam fairly close to bottom, although the herring was not weighted. Oxygen is depleted now somewhere below 22 feet. I tested the depths by putting herring down and reeling them up almost dead (they revived).

Matt worked nightcrawlers from 16 feet (deep weedline edge) down into about 22 feet of water, and I joined him, inflating nightcrawlers with the Worm Blower, weighting them with a chunky tin split shot. I slipped into a nice flow of concentration, enjoying the pursuit even for pumpkinseeds like the one photographed, when I felt a lugging pull and set the hook without even thinking. I then knew I had either a walleye or channel catfish on, giving my ultra-light a fair test. This fish did not want anything to do with the net, streaking away on runs three times before Matt said, "I got it!" Looked beautiful in the water, I thought it would measure 26 inches and think this is because of the hard, weighty stubbornness on the flimsy St. Croix.

It's my first walleye on a nightcrawler, 24 inches, 4 pounds, 9 ounces. Made sense with the mile high sky to float a nightcrawler and tease it along very slowly. This walleye couldn't resist.

We fished a drop-off a long while where Matt caught his bass and a number of bluegills, green sunfish, and pumpkinseeds. He had caught a rock bass back at Pickerel Point. Matt became tired of the sun and heat.

"Mom's going to be angry we brought no sun block," he said.

I sort of wished I had brought some for him, but I never use the stuff unless my bare back is exposed for hours. I managed to enjoin him to drift (virtually no wind, a real good drift speed) the ledge, firing up the outboard a number of times to keep our split shot weighted herring right along the top of the drop in 16-22 feet of water. I hooked and fought another nice walleye only to lose this fish, but a hook-up never counts for nothing.

By Hopatcong standards, it wasn't a day packed with action as they can be on the lake, nor an average day with a fair number of nice fish caught. But we've never been skunked on Hopatcong, and today's fish were good size. Even the bluegills.

Fly Fishing Smallmouth Bass North Branch Raritan River

 Fly fished smallmouth bass for less than an hour on North Branch Raritan at AT&T World Headquarters, catching a couple. Pursuing smallmouth seems to be a fine way to practice, as I'm still a novice fly fisherman. I found getting the stonefly nymph right against an undercut bank very difficult, but made one cast that got the beadhead about two inches from getting caught on the brush, and several other casts or more got it close.

The river's in beautiful shape: clear, cool water that seemed every bit as fine as the Paulinskill Friday, but no trout spotted.

Walking out, I saw a young fly fisherman casting beautifully between the bridges.

If I put music to go with this post, the song would be "Green Eyed Lady," by Sugarloaf. But the eyes look more aquamarine blue than they did while on the stream. Ocean's lady.

Passaic River Trout and Snakes Scherman Hoffman Sanctuary

Today's outing--snakes at Sherman Hoffman Sanctuary, precisely our intent.

Matt's hope--milk snakes. But I took a patient course, knowing very well how difficult it is to fulfill such expectations. Milk snakes are one of the seven species of 17 New Jersey snake species total that Matt hasn't found to this date. 

Matt discovered two garter snakes today.

What amazed me is that the small garter snake I photographed him holding--perhaps 16 inches long--regurgetated a freshly consumed red salamander, fat bodied and over five inches long. For a moment it seemed as if the salamander remained alive, but my mind snapped immediately back into place the moment I found this surely couldn't be, fresh as killed the moment we arrived on the scene.

I'm reminded of poet Allen Ginsberg, and how he might lavish the find.

Red salamander! You are the world!

And on and on with his ravings to suggest taking the whole world into consciousness. And why not? This salamander very well preserved in my photographs, I know I could pass these photographs off on a lot of people as pictures of a live salamander.

These are Passaic River headwaters running through the sanctuary. Full of wild rainbow and brown trout, the Passaic flows pure. Down below, the river flowing through Newark's Ironbound District is about to be dredged. During the 1970''s the pollution was some of the worst in the world.

Oh, and the Passaic flows through Allen Ginsberg's hometown, Paterson.

Contrary to conventional assumption until fairly recent years, perhaps, the Passaic's pollution didn't intensify beyond hope during the 1970's. A friend of mine caught carp regularly in Passaic River, Paterson, during that decade.