Ice Monday or Tuesday

 Be careful if you do it; I want to look ahead to Tuesday as possible for ice fishing, maybe even Monday, in North Jersey. Whether or not I will go is undecided as yet. I doubt it, because I tend to like ice at least four inches thick, and it might be three inches. I had no fear of three inches during my youth, but I fished ponds. I know there are guys willing to go out on three inches on places like Budd Lake, but all of these big bodies of water freeze unevenly. They know that and watch out, but I think I would rather wait. Unfortunately, it might be long one with these mild winters.

A Plug for Trout

Went after trout with one of two tiny Rapala Countdowns I bought a decade ago. I doubt I would be able to find another, so it's a good thing the seven or eight times I cast into branches didn't result in one of them lost. That ineptitude didn't really characterize the day, as I went after the fish avidly, hitting a lot of holes and stretches, wading from one to others in one area. 

The hole photographed above is about eight feet deep. I swam there back in 1998 when my wife and I lived in Chester. In the middle of it, I paused a retrieve, the plug sinking quickly, when it got whacked. I also found a really nice, black bellied stretch that might have been five or six feet deep. As the plug once got close to me, I saw a 10- or 11-inch wild brown turn on it, then felt the hit. 

Though I missed both fish, I'm especially pleased with sighting the second one.

About halfway down the road to where I wound up, I had already felt it makes no difference it's January. I'm out fishing and a catch is likely. It occurred to me today is a day like any other. (Now that I think about it--yeah, a real day, as opposed to being stuck inside the supermarket or behind the laptop screen.) The line from the Grateful Dead came to mind, and I grabbed a chunk of c.d.'s from the door storage. Yup, one of them was American Beauty. I played the Dead for the remainder of the driving.

Being 60 and going on an adventure alone, not even with my dog, and Sadie can be helpful, I find myself feeling--in most ways--a lot younger than I ever imagined 60 would be like. The only exceptions are memory and physical stiffness and pains. I guess I never really accounted for the loss of so much limberness. I won't say it sucks. It's nothing to dread, really. You mellow into it. Sixty years are a lot, despite the sentiment about life being short. 

I brought no wading staff and really had no problem making my way around the river. I went after casting positions avidly, not needing to force myself, but 30 years ago I was a wild animal in top shape. I used to swim across lakes and major rivers--the Delaware and Connecticut. I used to dance on rocks that would break my legs now, but I can't say I do badly.

There was a moment when I thought I had lost my car keys. I told myself I can't do that, I'm in the middle of nowhere, realizing I forgot to bring my phone. They were in the pocket of my waders. I often "forget" things, when they're in the obvious place I put them.

I got home just as it was getting dark. My wife was well aware I forgot my phone. She heard it sound off when she tried to reach me. "I was about to call Mike Maxwell to ask him where you might be."

He could have figured it out, as she would have told him I went in waders.

I told her, "For now on, I'm telling you where I'm going." 

If I remember to. 

One -inch Rapala Countdown

 

"As Trump Fiddles, the Virus Rages" (Chris Hayes)

Lenny, one of the guys from the club stopped by the specialty counter the other day. I can't remember his name! Chuck stops by and talks on occasion, too. So does Jay. The guy I spoke to the other day told me you're still there & so is Ray. He also mentioned Cheryl at Kings. She was there when I worked at Kings in 2001. Both you & Ray are hardcore for holding out this long, but it's nothing like what Cheryl's done. My wife says I have until October 2025. Then I can quit to be a "freelance creative." Those are NOT my words. I think the title is corny as hell. But the point is, I won't collect SS until age 67 or older. I will be writing and doing photography full time. Fishing too, of course. I will try to find time then to come over and visit! I keep telling myself I should, but I just work around the clock and never get over there. At least we're in touch, though. And Fred, even though he's in Ocean Cty now.  

Successful Year

Everyone seems to think 2020 was a bad year, but we prevail by finding the good in things. That's just what I have to do, to write this post, since today was an especially tough day at work and I feel like hell now. My God did my single-manned department get slammed the last two hours! I'm not complaining about having had work to do; the truth is, the busyness of all that redeemed the day as much as it could have, so I'll leave the rest to imagination. 

That's the spirit of 2020!

Actually, when it comes to us, the blog and readers, really one and the same thing, we didn't have a bad year. What did Litton's Fishing Lines do, after posts in the middle of March foresaw "mass death'? First of all, who believed back then that some 400,000 Americans or much more yet would die of the virus? I saw it coming, so that's what I wrote, regardless of who else would believe it or not. I felt the loss deeply, I expressed that feeling, and then I went about my life. I'm an essential worker who has probably encountered dozens, if not hundreds of infected people, and I feel fortunate I'm alive, though I know it's quite possible I won't make it before I would have got vaccinated. But my wife thinks I'm a paradox. A frail and vulnerable person with an immune system sufficient for me to "drink from the Ganges." So must likely, I will make it.

About 2020 and an angler always finding a way, instead of me going along with all the doom and gloom, I lived out the year like any other, getting up and driving to work in the morning, and fishing on many of my days off. Who knows, maybe that's because I confronted what would happen to America right at first, rather than going into denial, so I was free from thereon. Whatever the case, Litton's Lines responded by logging more posts than any of the years it has been up, except for 2012. 

Happy New Year everyone, and let's look to yet another successful year in 2021.

Tested Neoprene Waders

For Christmas, my wife got me a pair of Hisea neoprene chest waders, and I went over to the river this afternoon to test them. I'm happy to report they are dry, warm, and very comfortable. I had heard so much bad-mouthing about the comfort of neoprene, but these feel very appropriate for cold weather. My only complaint is minor. The boots, although they are 600-gram thinsulate and warm, are not up to doing a lot of walking, and having also tested a wading staff today was a good thing, because the boots don't grip rocks very well. I will be applying my Korkers cleats to them.

Focus Stacking at Round Valley

At Round Valley I did a photo shoot for little more than hour, having realized, as I approached Lot 2, that I hadn't been here since September with Fred. Whole other world now, and it wasn't crowded. 

I had to get over here and shoot before January, because that's about when my camera's warranty expires, and I had trouble with a function new to me. Focus shift allows the camera to shoot a series, say of five or six, but it can be a hundred or more, at differing focus points along the continuum you select. So if I select five shots, I put the focus point on an object in the foreground. The first shot takes that focus, and so on evenly spaced to the deepest range of what's in the frame. The camera was malfunctioning. I would select five shots and get only, say, three. Nikon determined I needed a firmware update. I did that, and from my porch, the camera seemed OK. But I wanted to make sure at Round Valley where there's more range. All seems OK. 

I came home to begin to learn--I think--that my Lightroom 6 will stack each series of photos, but not merge them. I will figure this out when I get time. Meanwhile, the photo series are in a folder. The photo above I simply shot at f5.6 with my 70-200mm lens by putting the focus point near the sandbar. It's a good photo, but what focus stacking does or should do is result in an image sharp in the foreground, middle ground, and background. Which is not always desired, but can be.

The photo at bottom is about the green rock. I noticed a number of them, giving away some copper in Round Valley's geological survey.

 

Sept

Looking to Ice

I had hoped to be writing about temperatures promising for ice fishing by now, but although it's pretty chilly, it's not cold enough yet, which isn't to say there'll be very little ice again this winter. Who knows. The photo above is from January 2019 when we did get out on four inches covering Budd Lake. 

Why do I bother posting about ice fishing when nothing's promising? Reconsider that. The time of year is promising; the 10-day online forecast is not everything. Even though it seems silly, in a way, to put image and word out to honor the possibility, by doing that I psyche myself a little, which means that when it does happen--and if it doesn't happen this winter, it will eventually--I will be better prepared.

So if you ice fish, here's to you, too.