Charter Cancelled

It did rain hard around 3:00 a.m., but it's not raining now after 5:00, and I feel disappointed that our Lake Hopatcong charter is cancelled. I was going to meet Brian Cronk just before 6 for some hybrid striper action. I would like to beat my six-pound best.

I did get out the other day. I don't always post after I go fishing, although usually I do, and in any case, every outing is marked in my private log. Fished the Passaic just after work before I drove home. Missed a pike up top, then after a few more pitches to the spot next to wood in the water, went on down below but not far from the bridge. When I came back, I twitched the #11 Rapala on top at the same spot again, and a little pike about 12 inches long leapt over it. Before I finished that retrieve, twitching it hard, a bigger one slammed it but I didn't get hooks set. Not a large pike but at least 18 inches. 

Saw a Big Pike

I walked the trail directly to that nice hole I fished last time when wondered why it didn't produce. My first cast resulted in a small pike hitting the plug when I paused it--as it floated towards the surface. Missed it, and the fish wouldn't come back. I decided to keep with that #11 Rapala, because with the river so low, using a plug I can float over sticks in relatively shallow water makes sense. It casts well enough where the river is so small. In the same stretch, a bass whacked it on the retrieve, felt hook, and was gone. 

I began marching further downstream until, finally, the trail veered sharply right and away. I followed it awhile, then decided to go back and bushwhack, which began more of that than I enjoyed. 

When I began feeling dizzy, uncertainty came on. I don't know if it's true, but all I could think is my recent blood pressure medicine wasn't allowing a pressure high enough to match how strenuous the effort. Will speak to my doctor (who might think me a nut for doing it).

I got pretty deep back there, fighting off thick stuff, making sure the plastic bag I used as satchel didn't get ripped to shreds by thorns that made my left arm and hand a bloody mess. I didn't care about the blood; I didn't want to have to try and carry my things without a bag! Next time, I'll wear a backpack.  Along the way, I tried a few nice looking spots--nothing but the missed hit from a smaller pike yet, and a bass, that last fish up top.

Suddenly, I knew it was time to turn and go back. I wasn't thinking of the time, but the situation would prove it had seemed an inner alarm clock went off, when I thought it was just frustration. The sole of my left boot was coming off. My jeans were too damn tight. I would feel, on the way back, as if a hernia was developing just below my crotch on the right side. 

One spot appeared to try yet. I sat down on a rock to relax and take the day in as I cast leisurely and retrieved. And then I told myself I would leave. Aha, I saw opportunity for one last cast. The water looked a little shadowy towards the other side at an angle downstream. Plug touched down. I twitched, retrieved, and then before it came all the way back, I saw a great disturbance where it had touched down. Then I saw, where I could otherwise see bottom, a pike of at least 36 inches, maybe 40--stunning to see in that little river. I immediately inferred that this fish had been alerted from the fallen tree it hurried back to--by that plug. If only I had just twitched it in place a little. It had snuck up stealthily, and seemed to create a roll and shoot back having seen me some 14 or 15 yards away. 

I knew--because there was another fallen tree sticking out into the river immediately to my right--that had I hooked that pike, there was about zero chance of winning the fight. But what the hell. I kept trying to get my plug close to the tree it skooted under, and even worked out a miracle cast when I neither got hung on that tree nor the one close to me.

I got to my car at 7:54 and felt OK. Dusk had come on pretty deep but not too deep. Another 20 minutes, and I'd have been walking the woods in near-darkness. 

Two trips back into the thick, two consecutive Tuesdays, and to think I haven't lost that plug.

 

Laurie's Report

Laurie Murphy:

The Knee Deep Club's next contest is for Hybrid Striped Bass, to be held on Sept 18th & 19th. Their catfish contest produced several nice fish with 1st place going to Hunter Good with a 12 lb 4 oz Channel. His dad Jeff took 2nd place with a 6 lb 9oz Channel and 3rd place went to Alex Stockton with a 4lb 5 oz fish, also a channel cat.  Despite the heat this week,  we were seeing some nice walleye in the 3 to 4 pound range, caught early morning on night crawlers or live herring, along with some pickerel , white perch and crappie. Largemouth Bass , pitching lures along the weedbeds and docks and Smallmouth Bass and Hybrids off any of the points, with herring giving you the best results. Have a great week !

 

Passaic River Lowest I've Ever Seen

Never saw the Passaic at lower level before. Hiking in, I thought I heard thunder. I got about seven minutes deep into the woods, when I took my first cast and a bass hit. Missed it. Further in, I found nice, deep water but didn't get any interest. I fished a #11 Rapala and had some difficulty casting balsa, compared to other plugs I've used like Smithwick. Had I more time, I would have switched out. It soon became clear a storm approached.

I never had time to settle in. Did catch a little bass before I got about 15 minutes deep, into the woods. Where I last stood, I missed two strikes from the same pike almost at my feet.  A small one but bigger than the bass.

Hiking out briskly, I realized I might have forgotten to stash a plastic bag in the little camera bag I keep my D7100 in. Did make sure to put one in there immediately after getting home.

As you can see, I got to my car in a nick of time. Always good to get out.

 

Checked on the Passaic

Found a good parking spot and scouted a little, finding there is some space for bank fishing, but the water was so muddy, I decided to try again later. Besides, I'm on jury duty call in Trenton, and if I had to go tomorrow morning, it would have been to bed early. Losing out on some fishing over that, perhaps.

Right near the supermarket in Stirling. 

Laurie's Report

 Laurie Murphy:

The Knee Deep Club’s  next contest is for Catfish, to be held on August 7th & 8th.  Catfish are starting to hit with the warmer temps.  Junior member Max Hughen had some nice Bass this past week. His largemouth hit the scales at 4 lb 1oz, along with a Smallmouth weighing 3 lb 10 oz. Richard  Hilton also had a nice largemouth weighing 4 lb 6 oz, casting some rubber worms along Nolans Point and Lou Marcucci had a smallmouth bass weighing 3 lb 3 oz caught on herring.  Another Junior member River Graybill, while fishing with his mom and dad Aaron helped to land a 9 lb 9 oz Hybrid Striped bass. Jim Welsh had an 8 lb 3 oz Hybrid, also caught on herring.  Other hybrids caught this week also were in the 7 - 8 pound range, being caught on herring or rapala jigs in deeper water.  Several pickerel up to 4 1/2 pounds and some walleye have managed to be caught also. Jerry Freeman while trolling worm harnesses managed a 7 lb 6 oz walleye for his efforts. Some nice crappies have also made their way to the scale. Have a great week ...

Raritan and South Branch Farewell

This outing seems to bring a long history of fishing with my son to an end, as he goes back to Boston this afternoon and then on to settle in California in weeks, but I'm sure we'll fish again. Maybe even in New Jersey. In any event, I've fished New Jersey with him since he was two, 20 years ago. Though I've mostly been into literature all these years, I began taking him on explorations at six months, orienting him to science. 

Why not literature instead? I did read him all of Blake's work and from other books when he was little, but I felt inclined to introduce him to science. When I was little, science was my interest, and it came naturally to steer him in that direction. 

After I took him to Round Valley when he was three, during the drive home, we had an intensely long and detailed conversation about evolution. Many other discussions since. And now he goes and joins a team to build the world's first nuclear fusion reactor. Or let's hope it gets built.

It never was a one-way street. Matt got me back into fishing seriously, by insisting we go several times a week. That led to the blog. We fished more often than I do now back then. Today he beat me six to one. Three smallmouths, three largemouths for him. One smallmouth for me. None were better than average steam bass.

We began in Somerville long before dawn, where a garish electrical sign warned: River Closed. No Trespassing. But a friend from work told me he spoke to a police officer who told him it's OK to fish. They just don't want another party trashing the spot. Matt got a smallmouth on a popper. I missed two hits on my Torpedo and something large broke surface, swirling behind my big Rebel Pop-R. It behaved more like a pike than a smallmouth, but I'm sure it was a smallmouth....though, of course, I don't really know.

I had another spot in mind not too distant, on the South Branch. My Torpedo got hit right away by an average smallie, which didn't get hooked. Matt got one on his popper, and I missed a hit on a Senko. Not much was happening here, and though nothing's happened for me this year in my favorite stretch, to deny ourselves a try would have been foolish. That's where Matt did best, on a Zoom worm, and I caught mine on a Senko. 

Typically, he tries something other than what I use. And rather than sticking to my side, he's always venturing off elsewhere. It's been that way all these years, and on frequent occasion he either does better than I do, or puts me on a better path. 

He just now showed me Reptiles and Amphibians, the Peterson Guide he's taking to California, dozens of Post It stickers marking pages of special interest from when he was little boy, though he was reading graduate-level books on science in the seventh grade. 

  

Matt's back to the past as the river flows.