Wind Action Seems to Stimulate Largemouths

The recent heat wave thoroughly finished, temperatures remained somewhere in the 70's during the early afternoon, and I avidly pursued one of my favorite forms of fishing: pitching and placing slow-sinking worms in tight spots, casts involving inspiration more than conscious determination when I really get them right, though a lot of prior determination goes into those that just wing off the rod and get exactly where I want. Some of the time I have to throw a curve, getting the worm around a bush and in close to the bank, and a longer rod might work better than my 5 1/2-foot St. Croix, but though a longer rod casts further and would give me some edge around those bushes, it's not as accurate anyway, the tip further from the wrist. I guess anyone would want every cast to confirm him as an artist with a rod and supple braid, but I think I could fish this way every day each summer for the rest of my life and screw up enough to feel disappointed sometimes, worms plunking down two feet from the target, or hitting the water a little too hard. Perfection's episodic. If it happens often, you've achieved mastery by trying to get there, even though it always feels like a Hail Mary, even the little instances. Keep improving.

When I arrived here at my favorite North Jersey bass pond, I saw another car parked and I felt a little apprehensive about someone else fishing my spots. I didn't have time to adjust my attitude. More properly, if someone else is fishing, well, good for him. I saw him sitting at a picnic table with a rod resting on the bench and figured he had live bait out, probably worms, but I got to wondering how shiners would work for someone of that inclination.

"Catch any?"

"No. I haven't been here long. I'm just being lazy and fishing shiners."

"They might work."

But I didn't really think so, not under a bobber 30 feet from shore. I felt happy he was staying in place. Why adjust attitude when you have to?

I got warmed up pitching an overhanging bush and soon began my progression to the back of the pond. Five minutes later, I saw my fellow fisherman drive off.

Five or six spots yielded nothing. After the first two or three I had begun to doubt, though my persistence wasn't affected. By a large overhanging bush, I got a swift pickup, set the hook, felt solid weight, but the line parted. I had tied a bad knot last night connecting 15-pound test fluorocarbon leader to 15-pound test braid. I've told myself before: check knots. All I had to do--pull it hard!

So now I told myself at least I had a good bass on.

Minutes later, I caught a little nine-incher, and soon a 10-incher and another smaller, these second and third bass hitting well out from shore; open water I cast to on occasion, because some of the bass cruise in three or four feet of water or more near bottom, though most I catch relate to overhangs and timber in the water.

In the back, there's a nice fallen tree that's never produced for me during summers. Always May and October with spinnerbaits. Apparently, this is because it's on a shallow flat, but that's just my idea, an obvious thought. I fished choice spots on the way back for nothing, except for that first bush I began warming to with when I began. I thought of a big one that broke off here two years ago, getting my first pitch where it needed to go at the edge of leaves in the sort of pocket on my side, but yielding nothing. I pitched again, worm plopping down out in front of the overhang, and got a quick pickup from the 14-inch bass I photographed (below).

Cattails that have worked before didn't today, and I felt no expectation they would, but tried anyway. Nor did a corner with a large broken tree branch overhang, but a length of bank I've done well by fishing close to overhangs, a bank with the steepest drop-off of all of them, came alive. Breeze from the north northeast pushed a little water its way, which is never a bad thing to at least
imagine stimulating aquatic life, and besides, during the half hour or so I fished along this edge, sunfish splashed on the surface fairly often. Why disregard little fish actively up to something or other, when for all you know, this might mean larger respond positively? Who could know what really went on. Maybe the sunfish were active and the bass--aware of this--mirrored the action a little. Or maybe bass below were just as active as the sunnies. No way to tell, but fish activity of any kind is a sign of something going on. I saw some little water striders and wondered if the sunfish picked them off.

Close to the bushes, I caught three more bass and missed the hit from another, setting the hook too soon. I don't like to let bass take too long; I avoid gut hooking. The first two weighed about a pound; the last over 3 1/2, an 18 1/2-inch fish. This final bass typical of this pond, though 17 inches is really more like it, I've never enjoyed an outing here catching so many smallish bass but never felt any complaint. Especially nice was sitting on a large, mostly buried stone, and also on the raised concrete of the spillway, casting worms out deeper to let them descend to bottom before twitching them back. It's not usually a matter of twitching the worm, but loosely twitching the line. That much shake, just enough to vibrate the worm slightly, is sometimes enough, although today one of the bass hitting along this deeper bank took the worm when I jerked it pretty deliberately, giving it a few swimming strokes. More often than not I don't twitch the line or the worm at all; I just retrieve it back quickly after initial descent, an active process, but just letting time pass and absorbing the pond's immediate surroundings: watching for those sunfish, awaiting any take from a bass, observing the kids diving off the swimming area docks and swimming the lanes about 30 yards to my left, gave me that sense of being there best today.

Chompers Worm. Favorite for good reason.

Nothing Doing in the Heat

 

Went out at 10:30 a.m, temperature approaching 90, water pretty turbid. The pond didn't feel right from the start, though I catch a lot of bass in mid-day heat, and have here at this pond a hundred yards from home, too. I usually fish a Senko, since the pond is very shallow, no more than about four feet maximum and most of the depths seem two feet, so there's not much of a slow descent tease and I've rarely used slower-sinking worms, catching a lot by Wacky hook-in-the-middle flutter action.

This morning I wondered if I should have tried slow-sinking Chompers, but I doubt they'd have made much difference. We used to say a pond is "turned on," but this morning this pond was definitely turned off. I finally got into the attempt to draw a hit, after I lost a small bass of about 10 inches. Until then, my attitude reflected the way I felt about the pond when I first got there--nothing doing--but I didn't stay much longer.

Lamington River North of Interstate 78

Having taken paperwork concerning Sadie to the vet in Oldwick, I got curious, hung a left and kept on driving, made a right and then another right, and sure enough, found an access point along the Lamington River. I just didn't feel convinced all of the land is privately owned, so I went looking. We've lived in Bedminster for nearly 20 years, and yet within nine miles of driving from home, places exist I haven't just driven through to find what's there.

I came back before sundown with my two-weight fly rod and Sadie. I waded and walked past thin riffles to a stretch that looked like it could possibly hold smallmouth bass, not that I'm certain any exist north of I-78, although just below the highway, I have caught them. North of that howling zone of pavement, the river is Trout Production designated by the state, and now that the country club situated immediately to the south has had the river restored, pools dug deep with ground water releases stocked with lots of big trout, the state has designated Trout Production for a mile of river further south as well. The trout stocked in February all rainbows, brookies, and tigers, I've heard of just a few wild browns caught, fish that may have meandered southward as if sensing the improved pools.

I started casting towards some fallen timber with stuff collected on it when Sadie swam across the shallow pool, spooking half-a-dozen or more suckers of about 16 inches. I spotted a longear sunfish, but no smallmouths. Any wild browns have made it to spring releases to cool off in this heat, I suppose.

On downstream I waded, and I must have walked 300 yards before I turned back, finding nothing worthwhile. This doesn't mean having lots of time and some serious ambition for a man of my age at covering distance wouldn't be worthwhile. Here the river is very rocky, and lots of sand and gravel fill cracks between rocks. Very little silt and mud settles near some of the stream edges, and I noticed lots of what could have been Johnny darters about an inch long scoot off silt leaving tiny pluffs. Some toad tadpoles and killiefish hung near the edge. What I think was a redfin pickerel darted away from a cluster of aquatic weeds.

Round Valley Reservoir Visit with my Wife at the Club Meeting

My wife, Patricia, and I went to the first of the two annual Round Valley Trout Association barbeques at the reservoir this year. We have family membership, but our son, Matt, hadn't got home from his internship job solving math problems for a company making specialized batteries.

Randy, the club President, and I talked about the reservoir's heyday with club membership at more than a thousand and huge turnouts for tournaments with boat, motor, and trailer giveaways for first prize. "We had to bus people in..." from a remote lot. He named the place. I forget. "There'd be 300 boats out there!"

If you want to join, we're more than 400 strong today, but above all, take it from my wife. "These are really nice people. One of them made Sadie a turkey burger." That's our black Lab. And Trish? She doesn't even fish, but she came to one of the barbeques last summer, and is convinced now more than ever that she wants to attend more. For such a low-cost membership fee, it's worth it just to get the newsletter and to contribute to the reservoir's trout and baitfish stocking, but come to a barbeque or a meeting at the American Legion Hall in Whitehouse, New Jersey, and feel included.  

South Branch Rockaway Creek on Another Convention Day, Whoopee

A couple of days ago, I headed to Round Valley to do a photoshoot, wasn't surprised to find authorities at the main launch entry. Whoops, I forgot to bring my fishing license, which would have got me in, so I drove on by and on down whatever County Road that is, South Branch Rockaway Creek, Whitehouse Station, in mind. I figured I might as well try a little photo shoot there.

So I got a shot I like, the rest deleted, and headed home, along the way figuring I sure have no blog post in this outing. But today I went back in the internal archives a couple of years, just sort of taking random impressions of what I've done, and after I had opened "Potting Killies and Catching a Redfish," imagined HBO comedian Bill Maher making fun of the post as an example of how dumb all this is, and I laughed, not because it is dumb; if I thought so, I'd stop doing it, and it's not that I don't know a lot of people more established than I am think bloggers are flakes. I laughed because, what the hell, if I took it all too earnestly, yeah, I might start getting--dumb. I mean, sure, anyone can imagine Bill Maher's mock-conservative voice on that redfish post, and it sure can seem really dumb. Television can do just about anything to a mind, which is why I watch so little. But everyday life--hey, if I ever make a million dollars, I'm not going to live the "high" life, as if I outclass the simple things that, well, frankly don't burn so much energy and make it likely a lot of the penthouses in famous cities will have foundations below sea level, or let's just say a photograph of a place can compel a response. Because they do, in fact. But is the photograph really better than being there?

So, yeah. Bill Maher came to mind, I laughed. And then, as if in reply to the master--I knew I had a blog post after all. 

Neighborhood Bass Pond Fishing Pretty Well

Grabbed twenty minutes or so and fished the neighborhood pond after sunset, catching four largemouths on a couple of Senko-style worms, having just jaunted over a hundred yards from my doorstep. Two of them hit on the twitch, one of them socked it off the surface, and the largest of about two pounds or better took the worm on descent in my favorite hole at a big run-off pipe.

So it's fishing pretty well, despite that big fish kill last year, but not quite as well as it used to, and the bass are running smaller, two of them about a pound, another a pound-and-a-half. The recent big rain moved a lot of algae out; although the pond got chemically treated sometime ago, which wiped out the algae, it had started coming back. I don't fish here often, but I pay attention to the pond every day, walking my black Lab Sadie.

North Branch Raritan River Fly Cast Sunfish and Rock Bass

 Doing a little evening fly fishing, this time I hoped remaining trout found groundwater releases during the recent heat spells. Some of them do, at least some. I've seen trout in Mercer County's Stony Brook in water so shallow--but cold--their backs barely rested beneath surface during August. There's probably more springs releasing into the North Branch Raritan.

I caught two redbreast sunfish and a rock bass, feeling if a 12-inch bass were to hit thereafter, the smaller fish would really emphasize the larger, but they were fun to set the Muddler Minnow's hook on and play with my two-weight.

Did some target practice. I've been getting OK at fly casting, but tonight I aimed a number of times at an edge of brush in the water. Of course, over-cast the fly, and it might get hung up, but get it right, and the incentive in just this situation involved enough depth underneath to possibly hold a good fish by river standards. A few times I got the Muddler inches from branches and I never hung up.

I wanted to finish the stint fishing the stretch I photographed and posted (above) just before I began fishing the slower water, but Sadie my black Lab swam across with her leash still on (I know better for next time), got it snagged on a branch, and as she struggled to free herself, the leash unhooked somehow, lost to the dark depths. So Sadie got up on the bank and would not budge, freaked out, and I had to walk up and around and back to get her, since water would have gone up to my chest, with wallet and stuff in my vest.

Maybe next time I'll fish above again.