Explorer Mode

We headed for the dam. Yes, the rocks look like fish magnets, and we marked some fish, too. That's when I cut the electric and put on a Hot 'n Tot to get down to those fish. Just as I was about to engage the motor, though, something good size struck Brian's jointed Rapala on the surface. 

We never slowed way down to cast topwaters along the edge. We're in explorer mode. After trolling back along the dam, we still couldn't get any to hit, but we noticed fish dimpling the surface that appeared to be trout out over deeper water. I saw fish backs move along the surface, so I was sure they weren't herring. I put on a Phoebe and we trolled through the area. Nothing happened. Nor did we mark fish on the graph.

A large cove had looked really interesting as we approached the dam, but I had cut across its face, rather than having gone back where I thought shallows might draw in some fish. Now I put on a Rebel Pop-R. I knew I wouldn't have much time with it. Maybe enough. 

A small stream enters all the way in the back. I put the Pop-R maybe 20 feet in front of where it must be cool water that flows. Put the plug in shallows of two or three feet. Something smashed it. I missed the hit.

We headed towards the ramp a mile or two away, and soon Brian was fast to a nice-sized smallmouth that hit the jointed Rapala. Over about nine feet of water. He played the fish on an ultralight. His goal for today was to catch one on the ultralight. And on that jointed Rapala, which he had found when cleaning out the center console of his truck. 

Moving on, we turned at a right angle around a small point and pretty soon a smallmouth, it must have been, slammed my Mepp's Aglia Long. I felt a fierce pull and then the fish was off. As you can see in the photograph, I had made the mistake of not checking if my snap was closed. Three or four times the bass leapt trying to throw that spinner as we got back underway.

Fortunately, I had a couple more of the same in my tackle box.

I got hit again almost as soon as I had got it out there, but the bass came off. By the way it hit hard, I'm sure it was a smallmouth. 

We traveled a half mile or more, before the pickerel I'm photographed with took the Mepp's deeply. It fought with such a dogged resistance, I thought it was a better fish than the two pounds at most it weighed.

After we got out of the boat, and I had waded barefoot up to my knees getting the boat on Brian's trailer, the shakes assailed me so badly I could no longer speak normally. I had waded the same getting the boat in and never put shoes back on, so my feet remained in contact with the cold boat bottom. It was 69 degrees when we got up there but had cooled off very quickly when the sun went down, and as I drove out of the West Milford region, I had 55 degrees on the thermometer.

More than an hour later, after a shower, I still felt cold.  

Nice Bass & Pickerel

 

No Keepers but a Great Day

This outing's been in the works for many months. When I told Fred I'm really keen on a keeper tog, he listened. And he figured April 18th was the best bet. 

We got to the lighthouse by about 10:30. The wind must have been a steady 30 knots from the southwest. The bay, streaked with white caps, loosened up the hold of brown snot-algae from the rocks, the bottom, whatever else. It got all over our lines, sinkers, swivels, bait. We'd haul up eight pounds of the stuff, and we didn't cast back out for long, though we did walk well out and away from the lighthouse, hoping to find a way to fish in close to the rocks where maybe the stuff got pulled out farther. 

Never happened. 

We tried another spot where inlet becomes more like bay. We got less algae on our lines, but still too much. In any event, no bites.

Besides the green crabs we used hoping to catch tog, Fred had some salted clams. We drove to a spot Fred knows about near the Causeway. Here algae wasn't loose in the water, and we set clams along a channel and on a flat, using three-ounce pyramid sinkers, hoping for stripers. 

Lots of conversation for an hour-and-a-half or so, but no hits. 

I got the bright idea of going back to the inlet. Maybe the incoming tide would be free of algae. 

When we got there, Fred recognized the vehicle of a Friend of his. We found him waiting out the tide with the same idea I had. Fred and I decided to go ahead and fish, even though the tide either continued to drop or the water near the surface moved seaward because of that wind. 

Maybe 40 knots by then. 

And then, after maybe a half hour, maybe less--I can't tell how long, lost my sense of time--the wind all but quit. The water stopped flowing, too. I got a bite. 

I had put my green crab in close on the rocks. I felt it get bit again. Said nothing. Again. And then the strike came and I set the hook. The blackfish I'm photographed with above. 

For maybe a half hour, we got lots of bites, but most of them felt the way I'd expect in water of about 52 degrees. Little taps, non-committal. But the other day, Fred caught blackfish left and right.

Today, I ended up catching another tog, Bigger. About 13 inches, but no keeper. Fred caught two, also under keeper size. 

It seemed that as soon as the fish began feeding in the calm, the wind began to come at us again but from the northeast. And the water flowed as tide began to rise. And the algae got all over our lines once more. And the fish stopped biting. 

Mixed Jetty Catches

 

Warmwater Getting Underway

 

I was afraid both of us would get skunked.  

The water cold--somewhere in the 50's--I still thought the dark, rocky bottom of shallows would absorb plenty of the intense sunlight and temperatures in the 80's. That would draw something like a mass exodus of bass and pickerel. 

Brian always has me man the stern mounted electric, so I steered us across several hundred yards of 15- and 20-foot depths to a five-foot flat that always results in a fish on during the summer. Brian trolled a CP Swing; I trolled a Rapala X-Rap. Nothing happened, which alerted me to the fact that I had misjudged. 

We ended up trolling deeper. I let my Storm Hot 'n Tot do most of the work, Brian used the CP and also a Chatterbait. Whenever I got the chance, I cast shallow water with the X-Rap, feeling very determined to make real something of my expectation that fish would be there. Brian wanted to fish along the dam. No doubt the rip-rap is smallmouth bass habitat. We headed in that direction, trolling as we went, but when we got pretty close, I pointed out that we had only so much time to get back to the ramp. 

We turned back at that point, but now we know it is possible to make it all the way there. Brian uses two batteries. Although nearly all the charge would drain from the first once we got in the vicinity of the ramp, the second still had plenty. The sun positioned low over the ridge; Brian’s Chatterbait got hit when we still headed towards the dam but we'd forgotten all about that when he finally had a fish on, which proved to be the smallmouth of the first photograph, caught on the Chatterbait. He soon caught another on the CP Swing, the largest of his total of three, the last one also on the CP Swing. So instead of intense feeding during the warmth of the afternoon, an evening bite took place like what happens during the summer. 

I kept us trolling through about 10 feet of water for the most part. The Hot 'n Tot didn't dig against rocks on the bottom until nine-and-a-half feet deep. I'm pretty sure I can get that plug 15 feet deep by letting out more line. Tonight the CP Swing might have run three feet under the surface, but it sure did better than my crankbait. 

Before we turned to go in, I switched to the X-Rap and had us troll across five feet of water. That resulted in the pickerel I'm photographed with, so something of my expectation was made real. Nothing like steady action I had hoped for, but this evening inaugurated a warmwater season to look forward to.

I fished trout the other day, and I've been comparing apples to oranges, a fun mental exercise. I remember the September 1st outing from last year as a very desirable impression, something to build upon, a foundational experience for more yet to come. But don't I want to have my fun with my microlight and the stockers? I do, but not to the exclusion of getting out in the attempt to catch bass like the 21-incher from September. Not to mention that I'm still trying to beat my best smallmouth at 19 3/8th inches. And pickerel at only 24 1/2. This reservoir Brian and I are fishing has great resonance, as if memory enters into its being.   

  

September First

 

Trout Ignoring Salmon Eggs

My idea of what the situation would be proved wrong. Early in the season, I'm used to a strong flow and relatively dark water. Trout eagerly take salmon eggs when the river is in that condition. So many days after Opening Day, no replenishing stocking as yet, I might have taken only three or four before they stopped hitting. The typical deal. The understanding is that you can move on to another spot and pick up two or three, maybe four or five there, and so on. If you want to keep fishing and maybe even make a day of it.

Instead, the water was very low, very clear, and moving slowly. Intense sunlight overhead. I immediately got the feeling it wouldn't be easy.

There weren't many trout visible, either. Not until I made my way downstream, which didn't take long. 

Trout all over the place. For the most part, they ignored my eggs. Once and awhile, one would nose up towards an egg, and turn when it got within four or five inches. Once, I tossed an egg and a trout took it. That made me think they were shy of my two-pound test leader. I chucked a couple more eggs and they just ended up on the river bottom, so maybe not.

I kept at the fish, and eventually I had a taker on. Lost it, kept trying. Another eventually took an egg. Missed that hit. Finally I caught one, and though I kept at them for another 15 or 20 minutes, no more takers. 

On the way out, I spotted a rainbow about 24 inches long. I worked at that fish for 10 minutes or so. Completely ignored my eggs. 

How to Fish Salmon Eggs

 

Special Message About River Shad

 Sent me on April 6 from Jim Stabile:

Hello Everyone,

What a gray foggy day it was most of the day today. Never got as warm as they said last night. I think we only made it to the mid-60's. Didn't hold out much hope for fish tonight. On the plus side we got a new roof on the fishing cabin. We'll stay dry when it does rain again. Anyway there were a couple boats under the bridge but there didn't seem to be much activity. We still had the 200 yards of net on and the river temp was down a degree to 49F. The height was also down a little to 2.4'. The net went around the point hard again to night and we were bringing in a bunch of sticks. We didn't see any activity in the net and it was acting like a water haul until the very end when we started to see shad swimming around. Once we got it all in we had a quillback and a total of 39 shad. 3 bucks, 6 roe and we returned 30. Quite the surprise. The weather looks bad for tomorrow. This is the earliest we have caught more than 30 shad since 2003, the first year I have records detailed enough to show me that.

 

Rain is forecast to start overnight and then there are thunder storms predicted to start about 2pm and go until 6pm and the rain continue until after midnight. Looks like the best chance to to get in the water again is Friday. I'll keep you posted on what we are doing.

 

If you know anyone who would also like these updates just send the email address and contact info to me.

 

If you do not want to be on the list that gets this email just reply back and let me know.

 

Take care and stay safe,
Steve

 

Steve Meserve
Lewis Fishery
1 Lewis Island
Lambertville, NJ 08530

Parking Grab Protested

Published in Bernardsville News: 

TO THE EDITOR:

In America, a tradition of access to public parks is long-standing; to the contrary, fishing access for British anglers is stringently the privilege of the rich with access to private lands. The irony is that the brilliance of Izaak Walton, author of The Compleat Angler—listed in the Western Canon of literature—came from a nation where fishing is elitist. Here in America, we’re restricting fishing and making it elitist! Anyone who buys a fishing license, or is exempt by age, always has been able—and should be able—to fish. The American tradition is, however, threatened today, and in Bedminster, people by the hundreds will lose valuable trout fishing spots along U.S. Highway 202/206. Recently, the elimination of parking near the pond was discussed at a Bedminster Township Committee Meeting.  

Once New Jersey Department of Fish and Wildlife learns that public access to the AT&T entry and exit stretch of the North Branch Raritan River is limited, they will stop stocking trout there. No fish get stocked where anglers don’t go. The AT&T stretch is not far downstream of Bedminster Pond. (The pond situates along the river.) Any argument that anglers can take the walkway in from River Road Park is a red herring. Pequest Hatchery will learn that drastically fewer people find their way to where they would put the fish—and stop stocking them there. Otherwise, what fisherman would protest, knowing he could simply walk a few hundred yards longer to a river full of trout no one else is fishing for?

Loss of access is happening elsewhere in New Jersey. Nationwide, such loss means the American nation is becoming something else—not American. It is too early yet to know if public space will become limited to the privileged to such degree as to eliminate needed recreation for millions of people, but loss of public access anywhere should be alarming.

Two stocking points on the South Branch Raritan River will be lost this spring. Merrill Creek Reservoir recently adopted restricted hours on public access. Hakihokake Creek in Milford, New Jersey, has lost access at two former stocking points. None of these measures, nor that discussed at the Bedminster Township Committee Meeting, have to do with safety hazards. The highway near Bedminster Pond has a very wide breakdown lane, and in addition to that, the gravel parking space beyond the pavement has plenty of room for safe parking and backing up. For decades, people have parked and gone fishing without any accidents occurring.

The Hike and Bike Trail came into existence long after people had been fishing the AT&T stretch and the pond. None of the many of us who remember when fewer people came through has ever been unwelcoming to joggers, bikers, dog walkers, and the like along the trail, even though they crashed the party that was underway long before the trail was extended and paved. We anglers have never presumed to keep the river only to ourselves, but we will never give up the value of our experiences at the AT&T stretch and Bedminster Pond.  

Bruce Edward Litton

South Bound Brook

Went to Scotch Plains to try selling a coin. I got there at 3:52. The store supposedly closes at 4:00. I was just waved off, but I quickly reasoned that I'll get a better price if I'm not running in to beg for time. I might have to wait until I retire. Just can't schedule it. I'd sell it on Ebay, anyhow, but the dime is in such poor condition, I need an expert to judge the mint mark. 

No big deal, but numismatics aren't only about keeping.

From there--82 degrees out--it took me 50 minutes in heavy traffic to arrive in South Bound Brook. I did find some six or seven feet of water, I think. Maybe if I only wanted a bass, I should have stayed there with hopes of hooking one as it headed upstream.

Got my big paddletail snagged but pulled it free. 

I backtracked to Island Farm Weir. Felt as if I had a better shot there. Not so sure now, but I cast my heart out, hoping to hook a striper over 28 inches so my wife could cook a novel dinner. 

Lost my big paddletail to something in the water. The fast water there below Island Farm Weir eats lures. I switched to a smaller paddletail and kept retrieve speed fast, allowing the jig to dip down on occasion--careful about that. 

Millstone River