Millstone River for Smallmouth Bass, Northern Pike

Millstone River for smallmouth bass, northern pike

          The Millstone River originates in western Monmouth County, flows through a section of Middlesex County into Mercer County and Princeton, and enters Carnegie Lake near the mid-point. The water spilling over the lake’s dam and flowing north and east is the Millstone River, although Stony Brook is a sizeable small river where it enters the lake’s head. The Millstone begins and ends as a Piedmont Plain, mostly mud bottomed river, but Stony Brook is the state’s southernmost predominantly freestone stream. Three miles further south, the Shipietaukin Creek runs over gravelly slates and broken rock for a mile or two of its longer length, yet most of Stony Brook flows through the hilly region of Mercer, and the swift water flowing over rocks at least used to hold excellent smallmouth bass populations.

          Virtually none of these bass make their way into Carnegie Lake (good for largemouths). But the Millstone has smallmouths despite lack of many rocks and gravel. The bass both run upstream from the Raritan River and make their way from Beden’s Brook—another Mercer County freestone stream—which flows into the Millstone at Rocky Hill. From what I understand years after I posted this article, northern pike are no longer stocked by the state, but pickerel may seem more common than smallmouths, largemouths too, but one spot in particular used to hold a number of smallmouths willing to hit on a given afternoon.

          This is the first time I’ve divulged a very specific location in more than three years’ column writing. I hope I didn't burn anyone else’s favorite spot and don’t believe I did, since I passed over the Wilhousky Street Bridge every other day for almost six years. In all that time, I never saw anyone fishing the Weston Causeway Dam race in clear view as I passed over. Since those years of working as a courier, the Weston Causeway Dam was removed.

          My son, Matt, was seven when we parked near the Manville bridge in Somerset County to fish the area of the dam. That was August 2006, and for a couple of months Matt had been excited about fishing this piece of the Millstone for muskies. I had read and discussed with him a peculiar article I liked in The Fisherman magazine which recommends this spot for just that species, and while it isn’t impossible—muskies are stocked in the Delaware and Raritan Canal and find their way into the Raritan River and then into the Millstone—northern pike are much more likely caught, since thousands have been stocked in the Millstone by the state over the years. Oddly though, I've heard of no one actually catching pike in the Millstone. By comparison, Passaic River pike thrive, but I don't know why a discrepancy has existed. I have heard of a pike caught in the Raritan River, obviously having washed down, and a pike caught in the canal, possibly because of a floodwater transfer from the Millstone. One other unlikely catch is walleye. The same article featured a photograph of a walleye apparently caught in the Millstone at Wilhousky. They’re not stocked in the canal or the river. They make their way into the Raritan from the Delaware, by way of the canal. State Department of Environmental Protection Division of Fish and Game personnel reportedly tallied electroshock recovery samples from the Millstone last year, and these included one large walleye.

          Of course, Matt and I caught no muskies or walleyes. We caught no northern pike or largemouth bass either, but I was pleasantly surprised to experience catching three smallmouth bass, which slammed our small spinnerbaits as the blades pulsed through the fast water below the dam. Two bass were very good size, weighing more than a pound-and-a-half. Obviously, a little fast water combined with rock-like concrete is a smallmouth bass magnet. I suppose any walleye in the area would frequent the fast water also. Walleye have been caught on occasion in the canal for decades—always at any one of the nine locks in fast water. You may have to fish all nine locks at least nine times each to hook a walleye, but these are the places where they take residence. Smallmouths at Wilhousky are an easier catch.

          They won’t be for long, since the Weston Causeway Dam is slated for removal soon, probably next summer. This is why I can tell you about this spot in good conscience. It deserves some honor.

          Dams are removed for good reason, since rivers liberated improve ecologically and fisheries increase. Once the two Millstone dams go, shad and herring may swim as far upstream as Carnegie Lake dam. More smallmouth bass will rise from the Raritan too, since at present the Weston Causeway Dam stops bass from swimming further, although some fishermen surely release bass on the upstream side.

          I guess an interesting project for the Millstone would be the introduction of tons of rock and gravel on the stream bed, but I’m only dreaming. Besides, it’s got current sluices, eddies, and especially downed trees and brush making excellent pike, pickerel, and largemouth habitat. It’s a river for kayakers and canoers, and will be safer without temptation to go over a dam and get submerged in the circular current below.  

Fishing the South Branch Raritan       

I'm writing The Microlight Quest: Trout, Adventure, Renewal, a memoir I intend to get published.

More Bass Action at the Local Pond

Out walking the dog on Sunday evening, I watched a man fishing the pond for bass, struck up some conversation about fewer bass seeming present than recent years, a view he never assented to. He fan cast a floater/diver plug through open water, hadn't had a hit, and I saw him leave with no action behind him.

I kept targeting the sparse algae edges in close this evening with a Senko-type worm. You can see some in the photo. Since this pond is very shallow, it would make better sense to use a slow-sinking traditional worm, but I prefer the five inch Senko-type's casting range, and have always done well for the past five or six years I've been fishing this type of worm. Often I hook-up on the flutter-retrieve, worm rigged Wacky with hook in the middle. An inset hook is pretty pointless. The only aquatic vegetation here is algae and that attaches to weedless rigs also.

I walked beyond the edge of the culvert after fishing about 10 minutes and spooked a bass that was in close to the bank, under an algae clump. What a rush to have encountered some serious life. A snapping turtle had left a trail of bubbles, but encountering a fair-size bass, judging by the wake, felt like purpose could have a real end to it.

I started touching my casts down beside and in between algae clumps as perfectly as I could guide them. Nothing was happening after almost five minutes of eliminating possibilities, but finally I got a tick, thought it could be a sunfish. I tightened and the line lurched forward with a great deal of weight on the other end. I gave slack, hoping the bass wouldn't drop, tightened up prepared this time, and set the hook.

Two-pounder. Average bass here. I set up my Gorillapod for a remote controlled photo. Since I'm new to taking this sort of shot, it didn't surprise me I encountered complications, even though I had practiced before I went out. Instead of risking the bass's life, I released it without getting a photo. Then I discovered the problem had been that I aimed the remote in the wrong direction. 

Persistent High Water South Branch Raritan River

At least the warm weather is lingering, 90 degrees today. Last year almost to the day I caught a four-pound smallmouth after a night in the upper 40's, the water chilly on my calves. That day, water level was low, water clear the way I like it. The first part of this summer saw lots of rain, and in the news, climate change suggests we can expect rainy summers in New Jersey. I dreaded results for my river smallmouth fishing. But then at least this summer the rain stopped and things dried up. At present, the North Branch Raritan running through the town of my residence is barely flowing, but the South Branch roars on through with somewhat stained clarity. Last week, I watched as dry rocks became submerged before my eyes, yet it hadn't rained in days. They must be releasing a lot of water from Spruce Run Reservoir.

Today I had only 20 minutes to fish for a break in my travels. I missed hits from three or four bass, and besides one of them that would have qualified as an average stream bass, I think these were very small fish trying to force my five-inch Senko-type worm into their gullets. I also tried a #9 Rapala, which I do OK with in the fall when forage availability begins to shift especially to baitfish, but got no hits. I noticed a small bass leap for a damselfly, a very summery sight.

That's the fifth time I've fished the South Branch this summer, and the first I've posted on it, besides notice about a parking area where we're no longer allowed access. That day I didn't fish. I've caught some small bass, but not in numbers. I fished the North Branch only once for smallmouths this year and caught a small one on a short stint. Mostly, I've been disappointed at South Branch stream levels too high for the sort of quiet fishing when a plastic worm is highly visible to bass and more in my control. I'm more interested in the South Branch, as if the easy familiarity with the river running through town has made me averse to fishing it. My wife and I hike along the North Branch virtually every weekend. Nevertheless, despite high levels, each time I've visited the South Branch, it's rewarded me with pleasant release from daily pressures, and I believe I'll return at least one more time this September before the trout crowds respond to the fall stocking.

Culvert Attracts Bass after Rain

Stint at my neighborhood bass pond. You can see in the photograph the phosphate line extending from the culvert. We had some rain earlier, not enough to muddy water pretty turbid to begin with, but certainly to have put a scent trail out leading to the wash. Not that bass are privy to pollution. I guess other scents are more interesting to them.

I sailed a cast towards the concrete barrier and the worm struck down right on target, about two inches from the edge. The Strike King Senko-type descended perhaps a couple of feet, and I felt the tick, tightened the line, which visibly moved to the left into the center of the pool, and set the hook into a nice bass. It would have tipped the scale at over two pounds.

I cast to the culvert again and missed the hit from a small bass. Next I cast along the edge of the bank beyond, and got nothing. I moved further along towards the bunch of vegetation visible on shore in the photograph below and sailed a cast to splash the worm next to floating algae scum. The line jumped to life before the worm could have sunk a foot. I set the hook once the line tightened and a small bass waterskied across the surface to me, a bass between nine and ten inches long, relatively rare in this pond, which has been full of two-pounders for two or three years, although this year the fish population clearly seems to have decreased. 

I'm slightly concerned about the lack of algae mats. They're simply natural in this pond that gets a lot of road runoff, and never have affected negatively the multitudinous bass population. I must have fished 20 minutes.  

Light was lower than this appears compared to the bass photo. I shot the former on a setting w/flash and much faster shutter speed.

Fred's Secret Spot North Jersey Bass

Fred took me to his secret spot, a series of ponds in North Jersey, which for a few years yielded many bass for him, including some in the three-pound range. We fished Senko-type worms until dusk, when we switched to topwaters, fishing a final pond he hadn't tried yet, getting no hits. We caught lots of bass on the worms, although all of these fish were peculiarly small.

Fred thought the most about the situation, since he had been successful in the past. He said that a killer winter like the one we still seem to have just got through sometimes produces fish die-off in shallow ponds, a reality I'm familiar with going way back. Who knows. Maybe all the larger bass are gone and only dinks managed to survive.

In any case, I began fishing after a very stressful day at work, my head sort of swimming in conflicts, while I managed, no less, to converse and get along just fine, no need of disclosing my discomfort. When I began catching bass, my mood began to loosen up and I felt enjoyment begin to replace dread. Not that this wasn't expected. I knew, back at work, that once I got out fishing, I would move into a much better place, but it did take a couple of fish to put me there, not that Fred's company didn't help. The funny thing about fishing is that catching some really makes a difference.

We got to the second pond and pop, bang--each of us caught bass on our first casts. I felt interested, and I walked swiftly all the way around and across to the other side, expectant of the shadows. Nothing. Neither of us got another hit.

At the third pond, we caught plenty. I realized I wasn't being quite active enough. Fred switched to a fat eight-inch worm and rigged it with a big inset hook. With this, he reached the big scum mats far out in the shallow pond's center. That's where a big bass would be. He caught a nine-inch bass on a worm that must have weighed a large percentage in comparison to the fish's weight. I got up and walked on around and towards a far corner, dodging sticks and fallen tree trunks, really getting into the sport of pitching and casting accuracy among scum mats, fishing a Wacky rig, hook exposed. I wasn't really lazy, though I could have rigged inset. What was the use with algae? It gets all over the hook anyhow. My fun involved pitching perfectly into pockets. I caught some bass. Then I lost the worm to a snag before I quite reached the corner.

I had just enough stepping in and around the pond in the woodland to feel young again, as if I were 17. I think that getting outdoors and doing maneuvers that require some effort is very healthy. Since it brings out youth in you--you feel this--it rejuvenates the body in turn. The youth you feel is not an illusion.

We had great conversation riding home. We spoke about past jobs we've had and adventures on them. I was the one who brought up Scottsdale, AZ, huge banquet dinners, all the beer and wine we wanted, and hauling six packs back to our rooms and private parties. This during the mid-90's boom. That was interesting--to say the least--and I can remember compelling conversations during those private parties, but I thought of the weight I've lost recently, and thought of the health the outdoors doesn't only inspire, but actually produces, and while I'm not ashamed of my employment adventures, I think too much of an economic boom would kill everyone involved by the degrees of its decadence, at least with the set of values in vogue during the 90's.

 None of our bass were much larger than this.

The magic hour

Wild & Scenic Delaware River Smallmouth Bass Float Trip

Our annual Barryville float trip proved to be a wonderful time. They had about seven inches of rain Thursday up there, and the river rose, of course. I spoke to Joni at Reber Rafting Friday. She said the river flowed brown but not too high and to phone her in the morning. Water must have been low, because today, Saturday, it was off color but not too bad. The Laxawaxan flowed muddier and added stain. (We always eat lunch at the confluence and the Zane Grey museum when we clock the five-mile trip.)

We began fishing Rat-L-Trips. With water off color, yet returning to normal, I thought of walleye. Nothing happened halfway to Zane Grey, so I reached for my box of jigs. I realized then that I had forgotten my two tubs of Berkeley Gulp! Leeches. This was off-putting, since the leeches have become my favorite Delaware presentation. I put a three-inch yellow twister grub on an eighth-ounce jig and quickly caught a longear or red bellied sunfish. I was thinking of an alternative, since bright yellow under dark sky and in dark water isn't quite right. I remembered I put a pack of Keitech Custom Worms in my tackle tote for Maine. These inspired by my friend Fred, who used them on Round Valley fairly recent. If you remember the old Ringworms from the late 70's, these are like a knockoff, only with a paddle tail and fishy scent. The rings trap air bubbles. The color smoky and dark, they seemed to suit the situation best.

And pretty soon I was into smallmouth bass. Matt never switched from the Rat-L-Trap and didn't fish much, content to lay back and read. I fished a wide gap, eighth-ounce jig, having broken off the stubby jig, deciding it wasn't quite what I wanted.

Most of the bass hit in faster shallow water. We let the raft drift and I simply pitched the jig and bounced it off bottom almost vertically. Especially in small eddies behind big boulders with about three to four feet of water, the bass were there and willing, a lot of fun. I felt like I could have fished this way for many hours on end. We were on the river at least six hours and it felt like a journey. I brought one of my 10-pound mushroom anchors, and we made a few stops.

Once, I reverted to the Rat-L-Trap and fished very thoroughly where rapids had begun to slow. We had just witnessed two guys in another raft, one of the men nailed a walleye about 18 or 19 inches long. In my river experience, walleye have bunched together with water conditions just like this, and we've nailed them one after another on Rat-L-Traps.

As many of us know, walleye have a tapidum lucidum for each eye, which is how they get their name, and this retinal structure advantages eyesight in dark water, including water that is stained, so long as some visibility is possible. I fished long and hard, fan casting the area, but got not a hit from varied retrieves. First I cast and simply retrieved at moderate rate, hoping fish would active enough would chase the lure down. I progressively slowed retrieve until I risked losing the lure to a snag. I tried lift and drop retrieves in between.

Then we went off downriver and I had fun with bass on the jig. Walleye would certainly hit it too, and I really don't know why we didn't encounter any, only that walleye are in general a much less frequent catch.

My favorite shoreline we didn't fish. We ran a little late and had to paddle. That's really the only disappointment I can think of. Once I was into fish on the Keitechs, I forgot all about my leeches.

Reber River Trips bus

Lake Musconetcong Water Quality Suffers Weed Killer

One look at the water, and I knew likelihood of catching bass was slim. "Spinnerbaits work in mud like this," I said. I really didn't know if many bass remained to respond.

Lake Musconetcong used to have beauty in the clarity of water, the varied greens and reds of aquatic vegetation, and the natural color tone of the few rocks protruding above surface. The water is deeply stained now not because of rain. Aquatic vegetation filters a lake's water by absorbing nitrogen and phosphorous feeding minute particles of algae. And when a lake is loaded with weed killer, the decaying vegetation adds to the lake's turbidity. Only by leaving the lake alone to let nature heal can the vegetation return and water clarify, fish populations increase and the cormorant population dwindle, since these voracious diving birds can't swim through thick aquatic vegetation. It may take many years, but Lake Musconetcong will return to health if it is allowed. 

No one we saw did any water skiing. I haven't seen any evidence of water skiing all summer.

I was there in 2009. A red carpet covered much of the lake. However, fish populations throve. I have fishing log figures to show that the fishing was good. It was very good. Pockets existed in the weeds. Weedlines provided cover edges. And bass and pickerel hit right through the weeds with scum frogs and Phatrats fished on top of the masses. Could you navigate a boat? Rowing was trying. Electric outboards impossible. But, yes, we got around by rowing. It took effort, wasn't easy. Not everything worthwhile in life is easy, but by the evidence of what I've read, water chestnuts create an anoxic condition that would eventually kill all the fish in the lake.

Rather than resort to chemicals, which have in fact done as I've described, I have visions of dozens of laborers hired to work in flatboats over the course of a few summers, rooting out this infestation. Examples on the web show this approach works. I have no information to judge how many years Lake Musconetcong will be stained, fish populations dwindling, before the chestnuts get eradicated and the lake let be to clear, fish populations coming back. I hope that day comes, but no evidence I've read suggests that water chestnuts have ever been eradicated entirely by either chemical or manual means, and the "chestnut" seed pods can lay dormant as many as 12 years before sprouting new, rapidly infesting plant life.

So if the lake is allowed to breathe again and fish populations return, it's possible water chestnuts will return with them. The best approach clearly is manual removal, the employment of many people and lots of equipment when needed in the interest of preserving the lake's clear water quality, water filtered by abundant aquatic vegetation other than water chestnuts, which keeps the numbers of fish-hoarding cormorants much lower also. Where's the money for this in New Jersey? I'm assuming manual removal is more costly than the funds Lake Musconetcong Planning Board paid to the company that administered weed killer. So the lake is a mess because we've done it the easy way, apparently cost effective. What other way is possible? Manual removal is possible to an imaginative mind, not to politics as usual in the state today, by all appearances.

 Fred fishes a spinnerbait unsuccessfully.

 Cormorant on a previously brown rock, whitened by cormorant excrement.

 This filthy rock, thick with cormorant excrement and once brown, stands out visibly white all the way across the lake, as if vandalized.
Cormorants have free reign to swim now that vegetation doesn't stop them. Their numbers have increased dramatically. I once read that a single cormorant eats 10 pounds of fish a day.

 Look at that brown water. My lens has a polarizing filter. Previous years, you could see the bottom clearly, five feet down.

 Stanhope Bait & Boat is a baitfish hub for the whole region, but virtually no one fishes the lake now, except for catfish. And if you want big ones, do come and buy bait here and you can catch them off the dock out back. Fifteen pounds this summer.

Are there any bass left? We got skunked.