Anticipating Sunday Ahead

The plan was to fish Merrill Creek Reservoir. Getting skunked at Split Rock changed my mind, particularly because I see such potential for trolling crankbaits there. At least, I see the rocky shorelines dropping off quickly. (I really only assume this potential.) There may be reasons I don't know about which prevent Oliver Shapiro and I from connecting.

Another problem with Merrill Creek Reservoir is the heavy timber we would fish. I have felt my tackle isn't up to it. I have a medium-heavy Lew's Speed Stick, the Ardent spinning reel loaded with 20-pound braid. Just the other day, a coworker at Shop Rite and I discussed the use of braid up to 65-pound-test for fishing largemouths. And then, last night, I came upon a great article in The Fisherman by Mark Modoski. An issue from two or three years ago, Modoski had interviewed professional bass fisherman Denny Bauer on flipping and pitching bass with heavy tackle and the careful use of a bow-mount electric motor. I read it in my car while on break today.

Both instances spoke to my fears about Merrill Creek, after the fact. I caught a largemouth of nearly eight pounds there a year ago, fortunately from deep water away from cover...

Many anglers feel 20-pound braid is heavy stuff. It's not very. Nor is a medium-heavy spinning rod, but while I could afford a seven-and-a-half-foot heavy-power baitcasting outfit, I won't, because I can't afford a bassboat with a bow-mount electric apparently needed to methodically ply heavy cover. But anyone who has followed this blog all along since 2011 knows I have fished cover since 2011, and that I promote the habit. Until last year, I kept to a mere medium-power spinning rod and 15-pound test braid, until, early last summer, a bass seemed to nearly bring that rod to its breaking point at Tilcon Lake, owing to this fish stuffing its head into thick weeds.

Many years ago now, before I began blogging, my son and I fished Lake Musconetcong constantly, but never caught a largemouth much over three pounds, which left us wondering. Well, the apparent reason wasn't hard to figure out, once I attended a Knee Deep Club meeting featuring a seminar by a Lake Musconetcong regular. He had caught four largemouths in the lake over seven pounds during that summer, and his secret was really very simple. He penetrated the thickest weeds with tungsten jigs and horsed big bass out of it.

Biggest bass=thickest cover.

I don't have equipment for it. Or this is my starting point to test, though I'll skip Merrill Creek and stick to my little lakes next summer. Furnace Lake is one of them, and on Furnace with Fred Matero in July this year, I was afflicted by a mixture of stupidity and curiosity, sticking to my medium-power rod and that 15-pound braid while fishing thick weeds, when I had the Speed Stick I had bought for exactly this purpose right in the canoe next to me. So after catching a two-and-a-half-pounder, the significantly larger bass I hooked--I could tell it was no five-pounder--put me in an acutely observant state of mind. I took in every nuance of the contest I felt, because it was all about testing that light rod and light line test. I noticed that it seemed to have more power than I had thought it had on Tilcon last year. I was horsing a bass of about three pounds, three-and-a-half at most, along with a load of weeds, and it seemed as if I would get the fish into the canoe. Apparently, the hook pulled because it never set quite well enough, but I couldn't be sure. You never want a bass to bog down in weeds, because the line can loosen between the hook and where weeds catch on the line. (Bass throws hook.) For all I know, the additional power I certainly could have exerted on the bass with my medium-heavy rod would have resulted in bass caught.

Anyhow, when all is said and done, I believe in anglers who can't afford bassboats, more than I believe in those who can. For me, angling is first and foremost about the big picture, secondarily about how it is done. If you can afford a bassboat, good for you; I certainly would never deny money matters, and that fishing practices matter, too. But above and beyond it all. That alone is where possibilities reside.

(There's more you can do with what you own than advertisers will tell you.)

Culver Lake Dock Fishing

 This shot was taken yesterday by John's mother. Kittatinny Ridge shadows glacial Culver Lake, the gap in between an interesting feature.

A coworker friend, John Lusk, invited me to fish Culver Lake from his mother's and stepfather's dock. We had a great day fishing a private lake off limits to any public access. I felt elated with gratitude for the opportunity, didn't have to hold back much, and in addition to two members of John's wonderful family, met his next door neighbor and a man named Eddie from the next house towards the back of the lake's 660 acres, a man reputed to be the lake's best angler for good reason. He's a former rodeo competitor who took up professional bass tournament fishing, winning some tournaments, too.

Upon meeting Eddie, I said, "For the past 20 years, I've wondered if I would ever get a chance to fish Culver. Now here I am standing beside the best angler on the lake."

He told me I might hook a pickerel, and before he finished telling me to use what he would get, he began making his way to a gear box at home. Two minutes later,  he handed me a white twister jig, saying, "Just drag that on the bottom."

I cast. Let sink. Began dragging bottom. Seconds later, I hooked a largemouth that jumped, showing itself to be about 11 inches as it shook the hook. "I told you so," Eddie said.

Until then, John and I had caught only a few sunfish and yellow perch. I began by hitting all the spots in range with a Senko, including a sunken rock pile in 10 to 15 feet of water. Bob, John's stepfather, told me the algae bloom hampering any visibility of things beneath the surface happened during the past week. John had bought three dozen nightcrawlers, and I didn't deny my own pleasure in using them. As John put it, "It's better than getting skunked."

Things would take an ironic turn later. But not by a big margin.

In the meantime, Bob fixed burgers and hotdogs on a grill; John's mother, Mary Grace, made an excellent salad and corn on the cob. We dined before a huge window on the lake, with the view of the gap in the distance that sold Bob on this particular house. Mary Grace told me it was originally built about 1830. That blew me away. I wasn't aware the lake had such history, besides the 12,000 years since the Wisconsin Glacier began to recede. She showed me a book on the lake's history, which I leafed through, and so now I know its attraction has served homeowners for a long while. She also showed me an article from Offshore about boating while the writer grew up on the lake, by a woman she knows who now freelance writes on boating.

After the meal and conversation, the sun angled light low. John said it was time. "This is when I always begin fishing here." Culver Lake boasts the state record hybrid striped bass at over 16 pounds. Hybrid stripers come right in close to the dock, the drop-off drawing herring in against this edge. We saw some herring dimpling before we quit tonight. Bob told me smallmouth bass sometimes push herring right in against the shallows of this slope. On one occasion, John fished a nightcrawler at sunset, right off the dock, and caught a 10-pound hybrid. I said, "Fishing is like photography. It's about light."

Fish took the nightcrawlers. I set the hook into something that felt big. We caught bluegills, yellow perch, a pumpkinseed, and white perch. John lost something really nice off the dock of a neighbor on the other side of the house.

Besides the nightcrawlers, we had killies. Those killies from Murphy's Hook House in Tom's River, when my wife and I went to Island Beach for the last time this year. (How long ago is that now?) I've kept them alive in my study. That is some study; the word is a synonym for office which artists and intellectuals use, my having learned the word as a very young boy from my dad, mine loaded to the hilt with both books and fishing gear.

I replaced the white twister on my jig with a killie, missing a sudden strike from something that stripped the fish from that hook, and catching what might have been a white catfish a foot long at sunset. Not too much later, I caught another catfish of the same description on a nightcrawler, enjoying the fight especially because--just maybe--it was a bass, but I felt sure it was a catfish. It would have measured maybe an inch longer than the one photographed.

All this ado about live bait. John never succumbed to killies. Instead, he rigged a Berkeley Power Bait worm with an inset hook and a little weight. Then he proceeded to catch two largemouths by working the worm up the slope, neither of the bass a foot long, but they were bass and they weren't caught on bait.
 

Largemouth


My New Website

Situation

Got word from Noel Sell about the current situation. He read the previous post and wrote, "Totally agree! Fishing is very tough lately. We need rain and cooler temperatures badly."

Forecast mid-80's tomorrow, last I heard. Feels that warm this afternoon.

I'm concerned because I got an invitation to fish Culver Lake on Wednesday, and don't want to exit this outing having caught nothing. We will just have to see how it goes, and in any event, it should be a good time.

Tough Transition Time

Forty three degrees upon our daybreak arrival at Split Rock Reservoir this morning, Fred and I didn't see a cloud in the sky. I didn't think about how tough the fishing could be until 10 or `15 minutes into it, while fishing a shaded cove with plenty of depth and rocks, a very bassy-looking spot with nothing happening. I sat in one of Fred's kayaks.

Fred did catch a little smallmouth on his four-inch Senko, just to the side of that cove in water brightly lit. Four rocks penetrated the surface some 50 yards beyond, and I worked them thoroughly with a Chompers worm, getting no more than the pecking interest of a sunfish. We pulled out two hours later.

Skunked again on Split Rock, I changed my mind about fishing Merrill Creek Reservoir with Oliver Shapiro in about two weeks. Now I want to put my squareback on Split Rock to settle the score. We can troll. I really like the structure I see here for that purpose.

From the reservoir, we rode over to Saffin, me feeling mixed confidence. In any event, my best fishing at the pond has been early and late; although I have caught some nice mid-day bass there, today was no typical late morning and early afternoon. It certainly was not summertime, but it wasn't an October day after bass have adjusted to the new season and slam spinnerbaits, either.

I began along my favorite steep shoreline with its heavy cover, and soon realized it wasn't going to happen, and it never did. I switched from the Chompers, after fishing deeper water out from the bank thoroughly, too, and snapped on a spinnerbait, feeling that most of the bass had slipped into any deep water out away from shore, although, judging the terrain, the more likely case is that they had dispersed in water about eight feet deep almost anywhere out there, not feeding at all. By this scenario, true or not, the bass are like blues and striped bass as they slip into the surf to feed, then abandon it. Not many bass would be near enough the shorelines to perhaps take a reaction swipe at one of the lures Fred and I threw. 

I did get one definite hit. By the feel of that, I knew it was a bass about 10 inches long. A good hard smack. It didn't get the bait fully in its mouth. 

Reluctant South Branch Smallmouths

Went to my favorite spot at sundown, missing a hit on the first cast and catching an average stream smallmouth on the third. Clear water flowed moderately, but it was chilly after this morning's temperatures in the 40's. I saw nothing but some killiefish in the shallows, and with a cloudless sky overhead, it became quickly evident to me that the cold front had put the bass off.

I came with killies I bought when my wife and I last visited Island Beach. I did bring my fly rod, but not only was I pinched for time, I don't think I could have caught any with it. Definitely a fall feeling on the river this evening. I do hope next summer I get a chance to fly fish the river at length. A whole morning and early afternoon. I have plenty of flies to try.

I worked my way down the stretch, and having waded about halfway to the back, got a big bass on, but the hook pulled. That's what I came for, a big one. A bass of nearly four pounds, and I really want to hit that mark fair and square, judged by my tested Rapala scale. I trudged back to the bucket, half hoping to hook another, half convinced I missed my only shot at one, baited my hook, and put another killie in the left breast pocket of my Woolrich, a heavy flannel shirt I needed. And it was getting progressively chilly while I wet waded.

Way down at the bottom of the stretch, my big killie flew off the hook on a cast, so I baited that hook with the other, soon getting another bass on, catching it--12-inches.

Gave myself a pat on the back for putting that killie in my pocket. (They live forever out of water.)

So I lost yet another big bass here where I expect them, but it's better by far to have had one on today, than to have never encountered such a fish.

https://littonsfishinglines.blogspot.com/2013/09/four-pound-smallmouth-bass-south-branch.html

A Week Too Late

Excellent article on party boat fluke by Fred Golofaro in this week's The Fisherman. I just wish I had read it last week!

I had the idea halfway right. Yes, the use of light tackle is preferred. Jigs as light as a half ounce, let alone the ounce of tungsten I selected. And instead of 20-pound braid on the seven-foot rod, 10 or 15 would be better. (Lighter test=less water resistance as the jig sinks.)

We fished near the stern. Wrong spot. Golofaro recommends the bow. You cast the jig upstream of the drift, and let it swing on down. Cast, retrieve, cast, retrieve.

So now I get it. While Oliver and I fished, I kept looking at all the lines out, and it bugged me...as if all this was too damn simple. Golofaro says much the same when he points out that taking position along with a dozen or so other lines closely lined together is a losing bet.

Too bad the thought never occurred to me....so go up to the bow and cast. This is why it's a good idea to read fishing magazines. I can't always count on my original thought.

Headboat Fluke Trip out of Point Pleasant

The anticipation of hooking a really nice fluke has me looking forward to going out on a headboat for them. When I fish the surf, I might catch a keeper. Once, when fishing a beach of Sandy Hook, I caught two over 18 inches long, but not by much. It;s not surprising that my biggest so far--22 inches--hit when I leaned against a rail like the one in the photograph. I've fished behind Beach Haven plenty for fluke, and in Manasaquan and Barnegat inlets, catching them as large as 20 inches, but they're just as rarely keeper size there as in the surf. It seems every time out on a headboat, a few over four pounds get caught. If you go, you just might get one over seven pounds. That happens.

Not today.  If you pay attention to reports, you've heard it's a bad year for fluke. Just the same, Oliver Round and I had our hopes. He quickly pulled four shorts over the rail, one of them 17 inches long, while I had to make do with a couple of small sea robins. If they were big enough, I would have taken them home. I hear they're very good eating and might as well taste for myself. Finally, I caught a fluke of about 16 inches, and as always, I had enjoyed that head-shaking dance on the end of my line. The pool winner was the only keeper caught today. About 19 inches.

I began by seeing if I could get a one-ounce tungsten jig with a squid strip and squid strip teaser to bottom and keep it there. Oliver had just told me he heard the water was 80 feet deep, so I knew this trick wasn't likely to work. I did catch a sea robin on my first or second drop, but I gave up on my seven-foot rod and the jig for the obvious reason, finally settling on a four-ounce bank sinker and my eight-foot Tica. Even that much weight didn't hold bottom very tightly, but it did keep direct contact, and by keeping the bail open and a finger on the line, it was easy to release a few yards every now and then, letting the rig distance from the rail. Oliver did the same and caught as many fluke as some using 12 ounces. 

I brought along my Penn Squall 60 reel and a pool cue stand-up rod, just in case I wanted to rig two four-ounce bank sinkers together and drag those on bottom. If the water was deeper and I felt my control compromised, as it was with that tungsten jig, I would have, but I never felt the situation called for the heavy rod.

https://littonsfishinglines.blogspot.com/2017/08/last-lady-ii-charter-beautiful-day.html