Nice Rainbow Trout Fly Fishing New Jersey

Fly fished as the sun nearly set, hoping for a hatch of some sort with the mild weather, a little disappointed that a slight breeze came up, and yet something of about size 18 or 20 flitted near the surface, off-white color suggesting small mayflies of some sort, but no trout rose, so I stuck to a Zug Bug and other beadheads.

I found my casting in great shape with size 16, but when I tried a size 6 Woolly Bugger, I soon began to wonder what had happened to my surge of confidence catching steelhead on the Salmon River last November. Well, wading out in the much larger casting arena of that river affords more control, if closer accuracy just wasn't a need anyway. Tonight I also worked very hard at trying to control drifts, finding that mending the fly line, for just one issue, is something I don't only need to practice more, but pick up a good book and read about. I would pass on the online videos before resorting to the local library, but may instead consult both.

I missed a strike, the trout flickering beneath the surface of the seam (in the upper right of the photo) like lightning, the line jerking forward for a second and halting before my reaction lifted it off the surface. Not too much later, I hooked a trout by dead drifting the Zug Bug through the main thrust of current. The fish leapt thrice, two to three feet high, and I felt I handled the fish well, a rainbow caught of over two pounds.

Persistently, I worked at that drift, fishing close to the seam on my side of the flow and the other, although getting any sort of controllable drift trying to work across the current seemed pretty futile. More to read about. And that didn't deter me from continuing to try.

Fishing the main current, I missed more hits than made me comfortable and finally decided to move upstream to the next pool. My first cast laid out nicely on the flat surface of the tailout, lightning striking again almost immediately, and I missed the fish. I cast again, got hung up by an overhang a more experienced fly caster would have noticed, snapped the nymph off, and then tried to tie on a parachute ant, finding that I had misplaced my collection of parachute Adams. (Nothing rose, but that flat water looked nice for a slow-drifting buggy piece of hair.) I put on my reading glasses in the gathering gloom and still couldn't get the 4X tippet end through the tie loop. Is 4X too thick for a size 16? Seems unlikely, but it's another problem to figure out.

So back to the Zug Bug, a nice size 10 or 12, and the first cast to the tailout resulted in a slam, a trout running zigzag, leaping.....off. Nice fish, over a pound-a-half. I cast again, hooked up, and caught a rainbow of about the same size before I fished the rest of the pool and I guess dusk had settled too deeply.    

Marble Mountain Ice Cave Warren County New Jersey

The Marble Mountain Ice Cave occupied my mind since this time last year, and I planed on hiking with my wife two weeks ago, diverted by necessities otherwise. The weather then cold and windy anyway, yesterday turned out to be a much better day. While walking our black Lab Sadie during a recent night, I realized we could take a roundabout way towards the Phillipsburg area by CR 512 from Bedminster, through Califon, and to the Ken Lockwood Gorge, thus giving me the opportunity to take some needed river photos with spring growth fairly minimal as yet, and also to show my wife where I want to teach her some fly fishing.

I thought we would just hang out near the trailhead accessible by Hoffman's Crossing Road, but once Patricia saw the opportunity, she wanted to walk back in, so we walked at least a half mile here altogether. Just a few of the photos I shot I've posted.

We accessed Interstate 78 by State Highway 31 and eventually rode onto CR 621, exiting U.S. 22 in Phillipsburg, the trail access parking coming into view quickly after about a mile. Marble Mountain in Warren County is a ridge flanking the Delaware River, the likes of which characterize the terrain all the way down to Lambertville and below. The trail gradient is pretty modest, but after hiking about a mile when we met with the orange trail to take us aside to the Ice Cave, we had ascended at least 300 vertical feet.

The Ice Cave is no natural cave, but the abandoned Fulmer Mine, active during the 19th century when tons of rich iron ore extracted remains something of a mystery, since no paper trail left behind for future historians tracks where it went to market. The New Jersey Highlands pocked here and there by such mines, most of the forest vanished into smelting furnaces, a massive project overall which included some copper and graphite mining among other minerals as well. How they hauled rock down off such ridges and mountains, I wonder.

Rather than turn around after our hike, I drove northward on CR 621 following railroad tracks and the river to the first right turn, a distance of five miles, perhaps. Eventually, we connected with CR 519, a road familiar to me. No GPS in my car, I hope this device never comes standard with any vehicle we buy. I like to use my sense of direction, not relying on maps, either. The county road I first became familiar with during the 1970's as a conduit between Hunterdon County's Locatong and Wickecheoke creeks, where we trout fished, 519 would have taken us back into Alpha next to Phillipsburg, so I turned left onto State Highway 57 and soon made a right onto CR 625, which took us through Stewartsville.

We enjoyed a nice view of Pohatcong Creek before getting onto Interstate 78.

Ice Cave information set in front of a big fire pit.

Lake Hopatcong Trolling Knee Deep Club Trout Contest

Brian and I trolled for about 8 1/2 hours, hoping to catch trout, water registering 49 degrees before sunup and warming to 53 on the main lake as the day progressed. I spoke to a guy in a bassboat on the way out, having spotted him fishing a very shallow pond-like enclosure with a channel leading in, visible right by the road. He spoke of 62-degree water there, and 56 on the lake from about Brady Bridge eastward. Catching a number of small bass in the pond, and a four, four-and-a-half and six-pounder by docks on a jig, he'd had a good day.

The best news is of the Knee Deep Club turnout. Ninety two registered in the trout contest, if I got the number right, and more than 70 in the pickerel derby. Top payout is more than $700.00. But although some nice pickerel over three pounds got caught--I think the largest weighed three pounds, 11 ounces--for some odd reason or other by 2:00 p.m. only seven trout got weighed in at Dow's Boat Rentals; the largest I think was one pound, 11 ounces.

Abundant sunshine, very little of a breeze, might have driven trout into the depths, but Brian and I made the lake crossing in the dark with portable running lights, hoping to pick some off towards the back of the lake. Before sunup, I did catch my only fish, a crappie of about 10 inches that hit a trolled tiny Rapala Countdown.

And troll, we did. The only way we fished and with great persistence, both of us becoming more familiar with lake structure, involved Brian's first time on Hopatcong. I nevertheless learned of some spots that knocked on the door of my fishy sensibility, which sort of lays back in the depths of my mind to come out when things get real interesting. That's a big lake, and though next year marks 10 years of coming to Dow's and renting boats for me, there's still a lot I haven't seen. And lots of memories all over the lake besides, which felt nice awakening as we passed places where either myself or boat partners have caught fish--or lost nice ones.

Hits happened plenty. Bumps, mostly, but some rod benders, fish that got off. There's a reason to make sure hooks on the Phoebe spoons or small plugs used are sticky sharp. Each of us kept one rod in action by placing it under a leg, and though the boat certainly moves along, you really can't set into a fish that way. Otherwise, the handheld rods gave us no such excuse, but the fish just didn't want to slam the lures. I did manage to hold a fish for a little while considerably than the crappie I caught. Who knows, maybe I blew $700.00, but my guess was another crappie, since Brian had just caught one. But whatever the fish, it hit a Phoebe, a lure known to especially attract trout. I kept one of those in the water all day.

They hit too light, except for Brian's big crappie, or fairly good size. That one slammed a #9 Rapala, and he thought he had a trout. And he caught a largemouth of 10 or 11 inches also on a Rapala Floater, which made me think if a largemouth will strike in this cold water, why not a trout? Go figure.

Conversation about fishing ranged all over our region of New Jersey south to Mercer County, since Brian is very well experienced. I guess what got us talking non-stop for at least an hour-and-a-half was his mention of Princeton Day School Ponds. When I heard him say it, it seemed out of a dream.

"Did you say Princeton Day School Ponds?"

Way back, the 1970's, I knew Doug McClure, who sang in one of the choirs my father directed at Trinity Church Princeton. The Headmaster gave me unlimited permission to come and fish anytime. I sure did. The seven ponds in total served as my favorite place to go for years.

Princeton Day School sold off the land for housing development, but the ponds remain, and to be reminded seemed to be the impetus to talk nonstop about places all over.


 

River Bluefish on Topwater Plugs: Inshore Run

Cocktail Explosions: Topwater Plugs for River Blues

In the Mako skiff, we headed down Manasquan River to a combination of two types of flats. My brother, Rick, and my nephew, Kyle, had been catching upwards of 100 cocktail blues in two-and-a-half-hour outings. The water reflected sun like a mirror, just right for topwaters in the three to 10 foot depths with tide in motion. We located the spot upriver, the water much warmer than the ocean in early June whether tide comes in or goes out, and Rick cut the engine to let the boat drift. Into the blues from our first casts, between the four of us we caught well over a hundred in little over two hours, missing four or five times as many hits. The cocktails typically knock the plugs into the air rather than get hooked. It’s all a blast of fun.

Blues from one to four pounds invade the inlets up and down the New Jersey coast early in May and stay well into June. It may be tricky to find a specific area these fish inhabit year after year, but once you know where to go, chances are you can rely on them later. In the Manasquan River, Rick fishes flats that range from three to 10 feet deep holding a great presence of cider worms. Blues fill their gullets eating these two-inch worms that seem to be the key to attracting schools of cocktails with some four-pound fish occasionally showing. But the combination of very shallow flats of three to five feet with deeper water of eight to 10 feet seems important.

Cider worms seem to flourish especially in these shallower areas and some get swept into the depths with other forage by tidal currents. The deeper waters serve as more suitable holding areas for the hundreds of blues, but these fish will raid the shallow flats on a moving tide. Another consideration involves a shallow flat as a different environment than a deeper flat, so one in combination with the other nearby implies a relationship. Whatever it is about the two together, besides cider worms, bluefish may be abundant.

Avoid fishing the bottom or the top of the tide. When currents slack, so does the action. When tide flows, try the shallows and also fish right on top of 10-foot depths. If you get interest from fish, stick with it until the action dies. If not, motor off a hundred yards or so and try another stretch. The blues move in packs as if a dozen or more schools inhabit an area of a quarter square mile or so.

Early in May, the water remains on the chilly side and blues hit metals and soft plastic/jig combinations. They begin to hit on the surface towards the end of the month. Year after year, Rick has terrific action on some outings with strikes coming on virtually every cast in the same range of river he’s fished over the years, but on occasion the fun is in persisting for fewer fish.

Heavy chop on the water disrupts topwater plugs’ effectiveness; isolated commotion on calm surface by a plug provokes interest from any blue nearby and sometimes two or more will compete to get it first. Blues hit erratically and usually fail to get hooked, although a single blue will take as many as half a dozen passes and chomps at a plug before getting hooked or losing interest. With chop on the water, they tend to miss the plug even more. A light chop may not hinder action much, but don’t bother in a real blow.

Rather than make a mess with treble hooks, Rick insists we all use his plugs with trebles removed and a single 3/0 or 4/0 long shank Mustad steel hook at the rear replacing them. He removes the barb to allow for easy release and this reduces the chance of injuring fish. Rather than bringing blues that tend to bleed easily over the gunnel with the likelihood of making a mess of the boat, we unhook the fish swiftly at boatside.

Rick prefers Atoms but claims that any topwater will work. Atoms, however, are meant to be retrieved quickly. They actually sink. A high-floating plug more likely gets knocked out of the water skyward by a bliuefish. In any event, this is not slow, cadenced teasing of strikes the way you can wax poetic when fishing largemouth bass. Just pop the surface by steady retrieves and when a blue strikes, don’t pull the plug away from the fish. Give pause before setting the hook. You will miss most, but the fun includes trying to beat some of the odds against missed fish.

Light spinning or light baitcasting gear is not the only way. Rick has used his fly rod and says that Deceivers bring the best action. During the week when boat traffic is at a minimum, the morning sun is warming, and the surface is still, what better way than fly casting from the bow?

These blues are tasty. Perfect size for the table. When I fish with Rick I insist on taking some home and on cleaning his fish hold back at the marina.

Trout Entomology Sampling Lamington River New Jersey

Recently, two of us seined aquatic insect pupae and larvae in a one-mile stretch of the Lamington River to get a hands-on grasp of what's there for trout. A fairly mild day in the 50's, the three-and-a-half hours passed very pleasantly. Forty-degree water required waders, of course, and most of the time we worked in that water, hiking up and downstream fairly long to get wide-ranging samples. The exercise soon brought me back around to my more natural self, and I wish I had more time to be this person. Someday, I may.

At first, it seemed as if various caddis species--mostly pupae burrowed into fragments of sedge stems--would prove prominent. I guess we both felt--perhaps--a little prejudiced, as if caddis, which require lesser water quality than mayflies, would be the bulk. Well, mayflies showed us that this water must be rather pure indeed.

We tallied the highest numbers of Hendrickson larvae. Also, we found what translate to blue-winged olives or Baetis, sulfurs, pale mornings, quills, and Isonychia. I remember Dave showed me sulfur larvae typically attach to decaying leaves. Otherwise, I did a lot of kicking of rocks, gravel, detritus, to loosen bugs to get caught in the net, and he lifted some stones with pupae attached, getting the lower arm section of his jacket wet. 

Among caddis, we found grammon, brown sedge, green sedge, and molted sedge--mostly grammon.

We also found yellow and black stoneflies (interesting-looking larvae, war-like), scuds, and one hellgrammite.

Altogether, 233 pupae and larvae, and since Dave is experienced where hatches really arise with great prevalence, I take his word that for New Jersey, this doesn't seem bad.

Lots of Bass Remain after Big Fishkill

Expected my son would nail a bass immediately by the culvert, the entryway of rainwater just after the heavy thunderstorm had passed through, clouds remaining pretty dense, as you can see in the photo. Nothing hung there during the several times we tried it during a half hour, although Matt left after 10 minutes to meet a friend, leaving me with my wife, Patricia, and our black Lab.

By that time, I caught a small one, and pretty soon another bigger than this bass photographed, caught along that shoreline captured in the photo, behind me. Here where I stand with this next bass, water had a muddy density, and bass hit almost one right after the other as dusk set in, my wife and I conversing, the bass secondary to what we had to say, though I got some interjections in.

"Look at that, Trish! Did you see how it exploded on the surface? This is a nice one."

Well, all of the five more measured about the same as the bass photographed, one or two just seemed bigger at first, another had a length of about a foot, another nine inches or so. After the fateful winter of 2014/2015 when dozens of bass as big and bigger than these I caught today died, killed by anoxic conditions under ice, Matt and I finding them all along shorelines, one of them Matt found at least five pounds, after all this, there's still a lot of fish. It's just that seven bass this size in a half hour used to be pretty slow, especially just after heavy rain.

Spring Trout Anticipations for New Jersey Now and for the Future

Frenchtown Cliffs of Nishisakawick Creek

 Expect a full stocking schedule this spring 

          Last year, New Jersey Division of Fish & Wildlife's Pequest Hatchery stocked rivers, streams, ponds and lakes in our region with 180,000 rainbow trout before Opening Day, Saturday, April 4^th. Much the same awaits us this year for Saturday, April 9^th, and on into the season. Nearly 600,000 rainbow trout will be stocked by the end of May. Since rainbows have proved to be resistant to furunculosis, don’t expect any brown or brook trout for an uncertain length of time.

          Most of us remember the disease debacle a couple of years ago, and I’m sure a lot of us hope to see brookies and browns again in the future. I didn’t attend the Pequest Hatchery meeting at the end of last month, and I’ve regretted this, mostly because I would have liked to have asked about the stocking of my favorite Hunterdon County streams, and possibly other little creeks of which I don’t know about the stocking slack. Last year, Fish & Wildlife signs got posted with few or any trout associated with them stocked in the Wickecheoke Creek near Stockton, and I’d like to know the reasons for the demise of the Hakihokake Creek in Milford and Nishisakawick Creek at Frenchtown, both of these streams true New Jersey gems, the former reputedly serving the reproduction of wild browns but perhaps fallen victim to the complaints of property owners. As far as I know, the land bordering the Hakihokake is no more developed than during the 1970’s, but have social attitudes ever changed since then. However, the Nishisakawick is wild and wonderful between Frenchtown and CR 519 miles upstream, so property issues don't seem to be the reason. Otherwise, I’m sure that issue—brookies and browns in our future—got discussed two months ago, but I just haven’t heard.

          The Highlands region is all about the state’s water resources and this translates into trout for whoever wants to go fish. As I say, at least most places. If you travel far up into Warren and Sussex, you may find the crowds thin somewhat. The Big Flatbrook a major stream flowing most northwestern, little creeks like Clove Brook in Wantage Township or Glenwood Brook in Vernon are really special. By comparison to brooks, I’m a little awed by the familiar North Branch Raritan River here where I live in Bedminster. I feel large flow leans on the heavy side and fish little creeks best. Regardless, I would feel awkward catching a brazen smallmouth bass in a tiny pool, on the other hand.

          This is why, growing up in Mercer County, I never fished Beden’s Brook, even though I knew for sure it held smallmouths as large as 17 inches. With trout, it’s a different story. I used to drive from Lawrence Township to the Delaware Watergap and fish little Dunnfield Creek for native brook trout and wild browns. Otherwise, I caught stocked rainbows in Holland Township and Milford Borough’s tiny Hakihokake, experiencing some of my life’s finest moments. A trickling flow can put you directly in touch with life’s essence. There’s little arguing against the point that water is this.

          Creeks usually function as headwaters for popular rivers such as Warren County’s Pequest with big holdover trout and plenty 15 to 24-inch breeder rainbows stocked. If you want to fish big water, additional possibilities include the Paulinskill in Warren and Sussex; Musconetcong in Morris and dividing Warren and Hunterdon; Black, Rockaway, South Branch Raritan and Passaic in Morris; Ramapo, Wallkill, Wanaque, Pequannock, and Pompton in Passaic; the Ramapo, Saddle and Hackensack in Bergen; and the Passaic, Lamington and North Branch Raritan River in Somerset. These are major streams well worth the effort shared with rather convivial crowds, but again, little creeks listed online—numerous—may be more endearing to you than any larger water’s austerity. Let’s not forget this at the Pequest Hatchery.

          For the past three years my son and I, along with two of his uncles and a cousin on some occasions, have fished the Locatong and Nishisakawick creeks among Hunterdon hills, catching nothing in the Nishisakawick, since nothing was there but minnows and dace. A fair number of other anglers have accompanied us at the Locatong, good conversation struck up with fewer people than the North Branch Raritan entertained during preceding years. The rural character of the region explored in-between bridge stops engenders an authentic feeling reminding me of New England, 18^th and 19^th century history deeply engrained in charmed settings. Two years ago, we drove past Sergeantsville Inn and I made a mental note to perhaps have my family dine there. The Inn burned down just last year after about 300 years of fine service. This is an irreplaceable loss, though it’s consoling I’m familiar with other historical restaurants near streams in Stockton, Frenchtown and Milford. We ate at Milford’s Ship Inn in October and have yet to try the Oyster House around the corner and the Frenchtown Inn on back down the road in the direction of Trenton.      

          For those of us who like to use the lightest spinning tackle possible in these places—no, not literally in these restaurants, but whether on rivers or creeks—two-pound test monofilament and salmon eggs prove elementary to method effective for nearly two months this year. Browns traditionally stocked in May tend to shun salmon eggs, not rainbows. However, the classic 70-degree calm evenings that bring on insect hatches for the last two weeks or so of stocking—traditionally inciting browns to rise in amazing numbers throughout river slow stretches suitably deep—may serve as tests to find if rainbows refuse salmon eggs quickly after stockings for an exclusively buggy diet. I may never know, because as soon as I see rainbows rise, I’m fly fishing.

          This year I’ll again exercise my new six-foot, two-weight TFO outfit. A river like the North Branch Raritan flowing through Bedminster accommodates an eight-foot, five-weight rod just fine and with advantages of quicker, longer casts, but I want to feel better what it’s like on a very light rod. Another idea anyone else can try is butter worms. They’re available from California online and a good idea for any shop owners. Now the secret’s out.