Maybe It's More Sunfish and Smallies

Oliver caught fish. A few redbreast sunfish and a smallmouth bass of about nine inches. We used dry flies, wet flies, beadhead nymphs. As we walked in, Oliver saw one rise. I approached the pool carefully and sighted what I think was a brown trout a foot long. Soon, I saw two more, smaller, but my sight wasn't perfectly clear, and though I did make out the black tail fins...smallmouth bass can appear to have black tail fins. 

Upstream, I did spook a seven-inch fish from depths under a large sycamore. Looked like a trout to me.

Any case, Oliver swears he spotted trout downstream, but since--once again--he caught none, he thinks the water this far down the creek might be better suited to sunfish and smallmouths. He had fished here once about five years ago and got skunked.

I went upstream, he went down. I have no trouble driving these days, nor is work any problem, but when I'm fishing or taking photographs, the loss of awareness due to cataracts is very annoying. It makes me less inclined to cover ground. 

Oliver went all the way down to where the creek goes under a major highway. About a half mile. When we met and fished that first pool one last time, we soon hiked out, talking about the demise of a couple of our former spots. He'd been to both of them during the Lockdown. The places were pounded. Banks worn down and spent worm containers left where artificial-only regulations...simply do not work when people refuse to respect them and the law isn't enforced. 

Places where we used to catch and release wild trout. 

Oliver said people probably say online where they caught fish and a crowd follows, but I reminded him that people are mum on Facebook about spots, and besides, anyone can access the NJ Fish & Wildlife interactive map of wild trout waters. 

After I mentioned that, Oliver came up with a great idea. That local law enforcement should be given the power to hand out summons to anyone breaking with fishing regulations. 

It could seem better yet that we scrub the web entirely and start over.

The One-Pound Test

Tried Where the River's Even Smaller

Brought rod, tackle, camera to work, and afterwards--forgot. I was well on the way to Interstate 78 when I remembered, so I decided to fish well upstream of where I would have fished in Gillette. I figured, I already know pike exist down there. Sooner or later, I would try up here to find out what I can.

On my second cast, I twitched the #9 Rapala and got hit, but it could have been a sunfish. The river up here has less holding water than down below, but why would pike swim upstream as far as Gillette and not keep on going? So I made sure to fish any breaks in the uniform flow, as I made my downstream. Those included leaves grouped together behind branches in the water, a downed tree, boulders, other branches. None produced so much as a wake. If there were any pike on these spots, my plug didn't interest them.

I fished pretty far on down, and you would figure that if any pike--or bass--are in the river, they'd relate to those breaks in the flow. 

There're pickerel in the river, too. At least there are for certain on down below. I know of catches.  

Tried the New Lamington River Pool and Upstream

Plans were to maybe fish a private lake for big bass, but that depended on the wind. Since wind was right for a deer hunt, Brian did that instead. I asked him where he would suggest I fish today, and he came up with two really good options, but I felt stuck on checking out the North Branch some five or six miles from home. When Trish and I drove home from a hike Sunday a week ago, I noticed two parking areas where I had never fished the river before. 

Can't let that go without at least checking it out. 

The first spot had a trail leading angularly down what otherwise is a very steep bank with a vertical elevation of about 50 feet. I got down near the water, but I found the river all but inaccessible. Mind you, I'm suffering from cataracts and will go in for surgery in December, so my depth perception is not good right now. Oddly, I find no difficulty driving, but walking a trail is another matter, and when it comes to descending a sharply steep six to eight feet to the river itself--forget it. I did scope out the stretch and it seemed deep enough to hold bass. I know a similar stretch upstream from there, maybe four feet at the deepest, and we used to catch bass left and right from it. 

I drove on to the next turn off. Vertical elevation there is only 20 or 25 at most. Access is definitely more doable, but the stretch impressed me as too shallow, about two feet. I was in no mood and really in no shape to put on my waders and wading boots to cover water and ground looking for deeper water up or downstream. I'm not at all incapacitated, but I might feel more willing to search the river during the summer. Fall has definitely come since last I walked along the South Branch with my wife and a friend little more than a week ago.

I drove elsewhere in the region looking for access, and instead of finding more, I ended up fishing the Lamington River where TroutScapes LLC removed the wing dam and created a nice pool. I did get a good tap on my Senko there, and then I tried upstream, where I started getting some pickups that could have been small bass or larger sunfish. 

At one point, I got snagged, and the violence of trying to work the hook free loosened the ceramic ring in my tip guide. It went down the line, presumably to the eye of the snagged hook. I made my way further upstream--an exercise that proved my steadiness of foot by my walking an edge of rock outcropping allowing my feet no more space than the width of my boots--hoping to free that hook by getting ahead of it, when it broke off all too easily. A couple of years ago, I lent the rod to a guest who reeled a barrel swivel against that ring, breaking it loose. I glued it back in place and that worked well until today. Before that hook broke off and the ring was lost, I had realized I was fishing the very same stretch of the Lamington where I first used the rod--my very favorite rod, a five-and-a-half-foot St. Croix medium power--in the summer of 2000. On that day more than 21 years ago, I caught a single smallmouth bass from the stretch.

Is the rod--as is, without compromising its length and flex--a total loss? Did it really come full circle like that, or can I simply heat the tip guide, remove it with pliers, and put a new one on? That all depends on whether St. Croix affixed the tip so it is removable, or glued it on there so it won't come off without destroying the rod's tip section. I'm going to have Fairfield Tackle heat it and find out. I already tried asking St. Croix about getting a tip guide, and since I got no answer from them, I'm not going to waste my time at that any further.    

No Point to Work Without a Life

Work stress blunts life, but don't string up the violin, because I got over it fairly well. 

Before I realized tide was going out, I fished the deeper water water between the wash and he sandbar, nothing doing. Usually, I catch fluke at Island Beach near sundown, so I decided to wait. By then, tide was so low the sandbar was exposed and people waded in the cut at their thighs. As you can see in the photo, there was no wash. 

But you can also see some wave action in the background. There's a cut of deeper water. I put away the 5 1/2-foot rod I use for in close, and cast a 2-ounce bank sinker to get my killie out there. Involved at all this, I began feeling life return to me. 

And when I felt a knock, I set the hook before I even realized what it was. The fluke I was into proved to be a little one 12 inches long, but I caught something. I missed a couple of hits before it was getting dark and we decided to leave. 

Something was telling me not to give up. I can't help but get beaten down by work, but there is no point to work without a life. 

Round Valley Project Update Coming

 A little frustrating. Got a Round Valley project update notice today, but when I click the link, only the updates from the last I posted backwards are available. So I'm waiting that out and possibly emailing them to ask about the new update. Will send it on to you.

Did get over there on Tuesday but not to fish. I've been there  a lot this year, taking photos. 

On the way, I hooked a right onto Rockaway Road and explored six miles of Rockaway Creek, looking for access. I was able to park and walk to a bridge and have a close look at the water. Man, if only the streams in New Hampshire and Maine I recently visited were as beautiful! The water is gin clear and looks cold. Fresh spring water. 

Since there's no access--it's all posted--I wonder how many thousands of unfished brown trout.

Inlet Tog, Black Seabass, Fluke, Triggerfish: He Has It Down

Fred and I have been talking for months about us fishing near his new residence in Barnegat. Spent the whole day down there yesterday. Thanks to him, I got back on Long Beach Island for the first time in 11 years. If you let things go--they do go fast. I want to hold on to Fred's offer. Feel very grateful to him that I have the opportunity to come down when I can. 

He's been fishing the jetty for, I guess, a couple of months, and I'm impressed with how well he has it down. Apparently, he always comes away having caught at least one keeper fluke, as you can see in the photo he did this time. Twenty and a half inches. He's been working at the tog and sheepshead, and though he hasn't caught a sheepshead yet, he's caught dozens of tog, but by what I've gathered none over the 15-inch limit. (If I'm mistaken, please comment, Fred.) Twelve inches is abundant, and they fight like hell. When you get one up from the depths and then over the rocks--they dive for those rocks forcefully. 

Sand fleas, also known as mole crabs, catch them. (Fred says even fluke will hit them.) Black seabass hit them, too, as well as triggerfish. Among many others, I caught a 12-inch black seabass, the largest Fred has yet seen there. Half inch under keeper size. Fought hard. Fred ties leaders that work for all the species we caught. I found them to be uniform and tight. We attached one-ounce and two-ounce bank sinkers at the bottoms of them. Forty- and fifty-pound test means they can take some abrasion. I was using 20-pound-test braid as the mainline, Fred forty, I think. Appreciated the braid's sensitivity when it came to bites. The sand fleas are selling at bait shops for $20.00 a pint. That prompted Fred to buy a rake designed for the purpose of collecting sand fleas in surf wash. Fifty bucks has saved him a lot of money. 

My son, Matt, and I used sand fleas for sheepshead in North Carolina. On that trip, he also caught a black drum on the same. Some black drum are being pulled up onto the rocks here, and Fred looks to next month for some redfish to arrive. In any event of fishing jetties, Korkers help you gain traction. The rocks at the edges--where you'll stand while casting--are slick and a fall could be serious. We saw a couple of military helicopters fly over, and they were a sight to see. A medical-life helicopter wouldn't be. 

He caught 10 or 12 fluke. I caught only one. Some of the time he used Berkley Gulp, but the killies I bought did serve him well. I did as he did. Or at least, I thought so. Cast oceanside, out as far as I could, then very slowly reeled back. I did lose a fish as it pulled drag, but so did Fred.

We were out for hours. Mid-way through, someone we didn't know came and we welcomed him. Just minutes before Fred and I left as dusk began to gather, he caught a nice triggerfish. The walk out there and back is a long one, a half mile, but because most of the sand is packed, if you don't have a bad back as I do, or a bad heel as Fred does, it can be no more than a pleasant stroll. You have to carry gear, though, so we didn't carry too much.

Hadn't fished with Fred in months, and it was definitely a good time catching up. He's retired now, and although I've asked the same question by email, I wanted to put it to him in person. "What's retirement like?"

"It doesn't suck! It's good, really good." 

That encourages me. I have some time yet to work a job, but when it's over--I want it over. I know a little about the challenges of aging already, but nothing else challenges my aching body more than the job, and while the mental stress isn't meaningless--it has its reasons and its needs to get over--I can do without so much.   

Twelve-inch black seabass.

Triggerfish. Notice the dorsal shaped like a trigger.

Fluke on for Fred as the sky began to darken.

Nice Sheepshead

 

New Hampshire and Maine Stream Tour

I thought I might drive to the White Mountains, but last night I found it's 86 miles to Mount Washington from here in Lebanon, Maine, and I just felt a two-hour drive a bit much. Especially since oil change appointments before the trip failed. I did further map research and headed out this morning to Milton, New Hampshire nearby. I was looking for Highway 75, and having not found it, decided to drive further up Highway 125, just in case I might find something else.

After two or three miles, I found the stream photographed above, and after a little doing, some access. Tannic water didn't surprise me. Nor did the temperature, which felt cool, but was probably 68 or even higher. Here in the south of both of these states, the terrain isn't mountainous, though there are some hills around Milton. The stream resembled the larger Salmon Falls River, where we caught smallmouth bass two summers ago. I cast a little beadhead on my two-weight fly rod, catching a chub. I found that floppy sole of my left wading boot dangerous, because when I waded upstream, it bent under.

Putting on my hikers as if I would go back down and wet wade in them, I thought it over. Prospects weren't good, and I don't fish trout when water temps get above 68, so I decided to continue looking for the smaller stream I had seen on the map. I did find Highway 75, but never found a steam crossing, driving on to Framingham. When I drove over a hillcrest, I saw a hill some three miles distant with a vertical elevation of about 800 feet, but I didn't find a road leading it's way, though I did find a stream similar to the one I had fished in Framingham itself. Eventually, access, too. It had flow but was flat and shallow. Water temp felt the same. I decided to pass on fishing it.

Things got interesting after I made a U-turn a few hundred yards after turning onto the road leading into Lebanon. I had noticed a little bridge over a side road to the right. I went down to the water and spooked a fish I thought was a pickerel, since it had been hanging out against the bank and slow-poked its nose forward. So I rigged up with my largest beadhead, which has a red head. A nice pool there below the bridge. I caught a chub, and then minutes later, hooked something that gave more resistance. At first I thought I actually had a brookie, though here, too, the water wasn't cold, and the stream slower moving on even leveler ground. A moment later it became clear I had my first chain pickerel on a fly rod. 

When my wife and I will be back up, no one knows. But I think if there's a next time, I'll head for the White Mountains. In 2009, Matt and I fished up there a gorgeous, cold, fast-flowing stream with deep pools--no tannic coloration, just gin clarity, full of brookies. I don't remember if we actually caught any and my fishing log is at home, so I can't check. Vaguely, I remember catching seven, though I would need to confirm that. Who knows what else I might find on the way there, and though I would pass on tannic streams like those I fished today, that was a real nice moment when I hooked the pickerel.  

The Stream near Framingham.

Near Lebanon, Maine