Temperature Drop Complicates Bass Post-Spawn

Nature expects a drop in water temperature, such as accompanied Brian Cronk's second time on Tilcon. He went last week with a friend from Ridgewood, the two of them losing count of the number of fish they caught. Lots of them. On Thursday, Brian and I caught only 12, but it was a deeply enjoyed almost (not quite) four hours of fishing. For comparison sake, Brenden and I fished a quarter hour more than six hours on May 7th. Brian and I faced a steady wind, the sky was overcast, and the water had cooled off to 62, which in any event didn't amount to the balled-up herring Brenden had observed and Brian had seen, too.

A Little Put Off

When Brenden and I fished, the water temp was 69 and 70. I know 62-degree water means bass and pickerel are plenty active, but it's under the optimal range for bass. When the water temperature drops out of that range, I expect the fish to be a little put off.

Which describes what we encountered pretty well. For a couple of hours, neither of us hooked a bass, and though I had caught a big pickerel of about 22 inches and Brian had caught some, Brian kept losing pickerel right at the boat. He told me he had learned legendary New Jersey angler Gen Wong's cadence. (They fished together in the same boat recently.) I couldn't argue with the number of fish Brian hooked. 

Jerkbaits Like Earlier

Brian pretty much had his mind made up: jerkbaits. Brenden had remarked to me when we fished on the 7th that jerkbaits are more of an early season lure. With the water temperature signifying the warmwater season set back a little, I wondered about the comparison Brenden had made. Brian did try a Chatterbait for a little while and caught a pickerel on that. I wanted to fish a Senko. We tried anchoring where a weedy flat drops off, and I worked the edges and where the flat slopes carefully. Nothing. Brian got another pickerel on a jerkbait. We tried a little cove-like spot where I've done well in the past. Brian lost two pickerel at the boat. We trolled at high speed to the back of the lake, where it appeared we could get out of the wind. I had snapped on a diving plug, which did result in a 14-inch largemouth. Having situated in the calm, I cast a Senko parallel to the bank, progressively working my way along the edge by gaining an additional three yards or so each cast, focusing with all the interest I was capable of, when a bass grabbed it. Good fight. Maybe better than 15 inches. I tried the worm even further back in the calm, got a pick-up, tightened up as the bass headed into deep water at perpendicular angle to me, and set the hook to only come up empty, cursing loudly at the fish. I don't know why, but when bass move off at that angle, it's hard to get the hook set. 

Returning to the area where we had seen the herring balls, paid of in a couple more fish for Brian on the Rapala Husky Jerk he had stuck to. On the way, I had trolled the same diving plug, which I think gets down about 10 feet, hoping to ride the edge of the weedline where the flat drops off. I remembered a bass I caught trolling that edge from five years ago or so. Instead, I found us cruising through 38 feet of water, but when I was about to turn the canoe into shallower, I got hit in the punchy way of a salmon. Hooks never set, we cruised on, but that was a vivid moment. 

Temperature Drop Complicates Bass Post-Spawn Bite

All Told, Brian caught three largemouths, compared to my two. He caught them on a Rapala Husky Jerk. He also caught three pickerel, a nine-inch bluegill, and a 12 1/2-inch crappie. My total was two largemouths, two pickerel. 

I don't think the wind or the overcast skies put the fish off as did the drop in water temperature. It could also be that the bass had already spawned when the water was warmer, and the exceptional action we had then was related to that spawn. Natures inevitable setback that we faced meant less active fish. 

46-Fish Evening Last Year

 

Prepare Your Lure Collection

Brenden selected this day months in advance, not only because it's the same Tuesday we caught 46 fish at Tilcon last year, but because it's the day of the New Moon. I didn't expect us to beat last year's number, let alone get close to that figure, as I tend to judge a coming situation conservatively. But we caught 61 fish in little over six hours, most of them largemouths, although we caught just about every species in the lake, besides smallmouth bass and rock bass. I even caught a nine-inch pumpkinseed as well as a couple of big bluegills. Whether or not other sunfish species exist there, I don't know.

Once again, Brenden was taken aback by the average size of the bass we caught, over two pounds. Even so, unlike last year, we caught none over three pounds. I caught the biggest we weighed. Two pounds, 13 ounces, 18 1/4 inches long. It took a little Z-Man Swim Slimz plastic on a 16th-ounce jig. But Brenden caught some pickerel over 20 inches long, including a 26-inch fish that weighed four pounds on the nose. It erupted upon a Zara Spook Junior steadily "walking" calm surface. The last fish of the evening just after sunset. We caught four or five black crappies, including my 15-incher also caught on a Z-Man Slim Swimz. Three or four yellow perch would have measured about 13 inches. One of them hit a trolled Phoebe spoon, but the only landlocked salmon we caught, mine, exploded on a Yo Zuri jerkbait the moment it hit the water. That fish measured 19 1/2 inches long and weighed two pounds, five ounces.

Initial Action and Good News

I had action moments after we pushed off and began casting at the launch. A salmon made a pass at my Z-Man Slim Swimz when I was just about to lift it for the next cast. I also got hit by something, before we turned and began making our way along the bank towards the other side. There a few other salmon did the same thing. And Brenden had caught a bass and me a pickerel, when the guy we had noticed in the distance on a kayak pedaled his way very quickly towards us, looking like Tarzan. No shirt on and wearing shorts. 

"Here comes the Harbinger of News," I said to Brenden, though I felt altogether neutral about receiving any. 

The guy surprised me, because he was absolutely true to my statement, saying, "I've got to go to work. There's bait balled up over there with bass on them. I used this." (He pointed to a large swim bait on one of his rods.) 

"I was just talking to somebody about big swimbaits," Brenden said. (He and Cronk had discussed them.)

"I got four bass. Four to four-and-a-half," the guy said. (I notice people tend to overestimate bass weight, but who knows, it was a big lure he had on that rod.) "Over there where you saw me, between those two trees."

"Right beyond that first cove?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Thanks for telling us," Brenden said.

The guy turned his kayak towards the launch site and pedaled in. I felt slightly flabbergasted, and certainly didn't ignore the guy's sincerity, even though I doubted the bait ball would still be there. Brenden and I decided to fish no further than the corner, so we clocked the squareback over at full speed, soon seeing herring dimple the surface, a couple of fish breaking on them.

Herring Bait Balls

I wasn't fully convinced those were largemouths. I've seen salmon bust herring, though always out over deep water. The graph informed me we were in about seven feet, but in any case, I put a Phoebe where something had just broken the surface and got hit by a small largemouth about a foot long. Brenden caught one on a jerkbait, which prompted me to throw my favorite chrome Yo Zuri, and in no time we were tied at five fish apiece. 

Then Brenden began gaining a long lead over me. I could not keep up, and I began to think the Bogos clear-bodied jerkbait with some purple tinge advantaged him. He got hit on almost every cast. Soon he was ten fish ahead. 

Rethinking Lure Collection

That forced me to radically rethink my attitude towards lures. I had felt proud--for years now--of my jerkbait collection, but suddenly, it didn't seem so large. It's not just the absence of a clear-bodied Bogos, but that besides my chrome Yo Zuri floater, I have only one other Yo Zuri, which sinks slowly, with anything like chrome finish. I don't have smaller versions that would have more closely matched the size of the little herring in Tilcon, I had forgotten all about my sinking Rapalas in chrome, and found another chrome jerkbait in my study after I came home, about the same two-and-a-half inch size as those Rapalas. None of those little plugs would have cast but half the distance as did my Yo Zuri, but the point is that I should be prepared to try different lures out, rather than forgetting what I have. A lure collection should be organized in the brain as well as in the trays.  

Brenden later said it himself, in some other context, "Scout's motto, 'Be Prepared." Absolutely. It's all too easy not to be. The guy who does his thinking--and buying--in a way that prepares outings for better results is better at the operation of fishing. I enjoy pairing off with Brenden, because I think he catches more and bigger fish than anyone I know. We did some trout fishing together in April, and he catches fish steelhead style with the float and Berkley Worm. Microlight salmon egg method is tough to beat, though, but Brenden's had 30-trout days on different occasions. I hope to draw comparison next year, too. My brother Rick is fishing the Pohatcong Saturday, but I told him to bring his fly rod, and he concurred. It's May and the bugs are thick.

Something Didn't Work 

I feel pleased that Senko-type worms never resulted in any catches Tuesday. And Brenden threw them repeatedly, which I did just a little. I judged that the whole pace of the outing was up-tempo. I was able to slow down enough to fish a Slim Swimz, but that usually involved a moderate retrieve. It made me feel vanquished that the whole endeavor was not without rhyme or reason--in a sharply defined way--that at least something didn't work. And that something, on other occasions, is usually most effective--besides traditional plastic worms I fish even slower.

The Size of Largemouths 

That herring bait ball was more and less one or two conglomerations of thousands of individual herring, and a breeze allowed us to position the boat ahead of them, get carried by, and then float further to the edge of the shallow flat, where we clocked the squareback back to the head of the action again. Tilcon is very clear, and underneath the boat, six or seven feet deep, we saw largemouths as big as 18 or 19 inches scurry along the bottom. Brenden hooked one bigger, which he estimated at four or five pounds. I saw the bathtub-size boil it made on the surface. Many years ago, someone told me about seven-and-a-half pound largemouths in the lake, but I'm skeptical of the existence of more than a relative few. By comparison, I've caught three largemouths on Clinton Reservoir, having fished there a handful of times. One was 20 inches, another 18. And the third was 21 inches. It's a smallmouth lake, but the largemouths are very big. Tilcon is loaded with 16- and 17-inchers, and over the course of the past decade and some, the largest I've seen got caught by Brenden, 19 and 15/16ths inches long, weighing under four pounds. 

Even so, 46- and 61-fish days are very far from being the rule here. And it wasn't only the fish on the herring that responded to our various presentations. We caught plenty in the back of the lake, too. But Tilcon fishes slowly all summer and into September. I've never fished the lake in October, and in late November, my son and I had a few pickerel on we didn't actually catch. 

I snapped a relative few photos, compared to all we caught; many of them you can see below. Brenden finished with a total of 40, me 21. I asked him if he's interested in fishing tournaments. Impossible to do with work, though.   

First bass caught among the herring, on a Phoebe spoon.

 

15-inch black crappie

Yellow perch on Phoebe trolled over weeds near herring congregations.

Salmon

Bogos jerkbait.

The heaviest we weighed. Two pounds, 13 ounces.

46-Fish Afternoon

Tilcon 2013

Stumped on Figuring Out a New Bass Lake

A short stint on the same lake as last week, though we were out there for more than three hours. Fifty-five degrees when we got on, and somehow 55 when we got off the water at about 9:30 a.m. Later in the day, temperatures would rise into the mid- to upper-80's. 

Once again, the Yo Zuri caught bass, three this time, the biggest about 17 inches. Brian threw some plugs, too, though he caught his bass on a Chatterbait. I also threw the Mini King and a size 7 Rapala floater. Yellow perch colored. Something small hit that plug right before I would have lifted it. 

Bass Didn't Want a Chatterbait

I just got the feeling last week that bass here don't want to kill a Chatterbait. I used one for about the first hour, and it did get knocked once...not really committed to. At the other private lake we fish, bass nail Chatterbaits so hard it's like they're absolutely furious. This outing and the previous, Brian has spoken of bass "pushing" his Chatterbait instead of slamming it, so many times I just don't want to use one. And sure enough, the plug's paid off, though three bass isn't many. 

Water temp was 65. It was 60 last week, so it's not like the water's cold. 

First Try of Lake's Center

We did something different this morning--trolled through the center of the lake. It's round but shallow. My son and I used to fish Lake Musconetcong years ago, and we always caught bass out in the middle. Everywhere you go there, it's five feet deep, though bass have amplitudes of weeds to thrive on. I suppose even after they bombed the place with weed killer. Here, it's six feet deep. So if there's cover out there, you can bet there's bass, but we only got hit near shore just to the right of where we launched. When we went out, and when we came back before we trailered up.

Two Attempts Compared

We did better in less time today, and we didn't suffer boredom like we did last week, not to mention how badly my lower back suffered without a seat cushion, but the outing last week culminated well: a long journey from one bass to the next four hours later. It ended well today, too, though not so dramatically after moments of despair. 

It doesn't matter that the fishing hasn't been up to standard. Not compared to having the opportunity to fish with Brian again. Has been a long while. And he's reminded me today a number of times that figuring out a new lake is a worthy challenge. No guarantee exists that this one will ever yield. It reminds me more of Budd Lake, though I've only fished the six-foot depths out there near its middle through the ice; Lake Musconetcong's weedy cover makes it very interesting to fish.

If there's stumps out there, there's probably bass, but they might be hard to find.

So It Doesn't Add Up...Yet     

What will it be?

 

Not a bad bass.

Canoe fits 12 paddlers.

More of a Complicated Practice

 

Cold Front Conditions End Positively

Tough one yesterday. Brian and I began throwing Chatterbaits, and he hooked up pretty quickly, as if the 15-inch or so bass presaged a lot more to come. You might be familiar with the feeling. It still fools me.

I had fished long enough to switch-out and persistently work a Yo Zuri jerkbait. It never occurred to me to snap that plug onto my medium power 5 1/2 rod, even though it was obvious to me I couldn't jerk it around as tightly on my 7-foot medium-heavy Speed Stick. Maybe that's because I liked the rhythm-retrieve with some jerk to it.

So did my first bass of the year, somewhere around 18 or 19 inches. I wanted to release it quickly, rather than pull out the measuring tape. It struck the plug near the end of a retrieve, and loomed a lot larger in the somewhat stained water.

I continued to throw that plug, while Brian stuck to various Chatterbaits, both of us agreeing the fishing got boring. I felt like going in early, but never opened my mouth on that account. Chris Pierra, of the NJ Multispecies Podcast and Mayhem on Facebook, famously said, "You have to suffer for the fish." I felt willing to do just that, rather than give up, when Brian had said he wasn't giving up. We had been fishing in the wind, which had come up suddenly from the north. The lake is shallow. The graph kept reading between 2 1/2 and 3 feet. Brian had told me its deepest water is 7 or 8 feet. About 150 acres of water in total. That shallow water along the south shore was stirred up and dingy. We decided to get out of the wind and headed north at the full speed of Brian's electric motor. 

We found the water not clear but not off-color. What I call normal. I immediately took my 5 1/2-foot rod in hand, and snapped on a Mini-King spinnerbait, fishing it in full focus, despite the cloud of pessimism I refreshed by watching people on shore closely. People out for walks. Sitting lotus style. And so on. All of which felt more fascinating than watching a movie does to me these days. Relieved the boredom.

Soon, I got hit. The bass jumped and threw the hook. All 10 inches of it. But a bass.

At some point, Brian said, "We'll fish the dusk bite." 

"OK."

His lake, his boat. I wasn't going to be a bad guest. Besides, I've fished for many decades. I have some knowledge of what's possible. You don't give into despair just because you haven't got another bass in the boat for three hours. I suffered despair for only a moment when I admitted it had got boring. But in the end, negative emotions added to the variety might make a more interesting day. 

I was still thinking of what Pierra had said about suffering. People wear T-Shirts with his words on them now. Do I really quote him on my new website? (Once it's up.) The spectre of Ayn Rand was present. "Not any kind of suffering." You never affirm it, according to her philosophy, so what about my own?

"Honesty is the best policy." Whoever said that first, the words are popular. My back ached. I had felt despair. Boredom. I knew what the back ache means. Tomorrow at work... Yes, it hurt until near the end of my shift today. But it got better. Was it worth it? At the end of my shift, I knew--yes it was. So, honestly. Who doesn't suffer for the fish? But we get better in part because being out there is very, very healthy. People take antidepressants when spending time in nature will do. We also get better because we do nothing stupid in the process.

I once heard a reference to Joe Santiago--also of the podcast and Mayhem--saying that he said preparing his boat is a pain in the ass. Honesty again. You can appreciate the prep work, but who hasn't felt preparing for a day of fishing takes "too" much time? Even if you get over the feeling in a minute or two, you've felt it, right?

I stuck to the Mini-King. We were out of the wind and in cleaner water, so that tiny 16th-ounce spinnerbait fit the ticket, in my opinion. I got plenty of distance casting it on Power Pro braid.

Brian hooked a 10- or 12-incher that leapt and threw the hook. Still using a Chatterbait. With a mouthful of a trailer.  

Again. 

"I just got hit," Brian said. "It was a dink."

Earlier he had said the little ones push it aside. 

I cast to the spot. Brian doesn't mind that. I don't either, if I open my mouth when I get hit, and invariably I do. Nothing happened--until the spinnerbait came near the end of the retrieve. The bass would have measured somewhere around 15 inches.

Fishing is a mystery no one has ever plumbed to the fullest. To ordinary reckoning, why would catching another bass complete my day? Why would a whole new mood of optimism come over me? Indeed, why would I even have caught that bass? 

At sunset, no less. We continued to fish. In a much more normal manner of anticipation. Nothing happened but something had. 

We moderns think we're really smart because we know about chemistry. More specifically, endorphins. I could do a little Google research, but before I might do that, I'm going to point out there must be a link between ecological patterns and endorphins. 

So much for a tough day under a fairly severe cold front. Temps in the 50's for an afternoon high. Even so, in all that sunlight, I wore just a Nasa T-shirt for a while. Most of the time, I had a Woolrich shirt on under a winter coat. When we pulled away from the ramp in the dusk, it was 48 degrees. 

  

The day completed upon sunset.

Different Private Lake

Captain Scott Tarnoski of The King's Ransom

 

Tarnoski is on the left, Brian Cronk to the right, Tyler the mate in the middle. Last July 30th. 

Go Fund Me Captain Scott Tarnoski of the King's Ransom on Lake Ontario is suffering from acute myeloid leukemia, recently diagnosed and by what I've gathered admitted into the hospital for at least two months. Naturally, a charter captain pays a king's ransom for a boat fit for the Great Lakes...and has little money leftover for an insurance policy. But Scott has earned loads of social capital to draw upon and you're in on it, reading these words. Let's face it. All of us who have jobs paying for great benefits are advantaged in a way he isn't. Even a small contribution shows up the notion that we're altogether dependent on corporate structure. And you can hope to go up there someday and tell him you pitched in! A ride on that boat is worth it, not to mention catching the salmon!

It seems as if everybody in Sodus Point, New York, is aware. They had special events at bars and all else to raise awareness and funds. Here in New Jersey, Joe Santiago is leading the way through Mayhem and the Multispecies Podcast. You get the idea when you realize small contributions add up. Some of us don't need security more than we need to live up to our legend. Where the greater pride lies--legend or corporate earnings--is open to endless debate, but Scott Tarnoski is certainly a legend among the greater regional angling community.

He's someone who believes in offering a life-changing experience for his clients. And he's a passionate and greatly skilled angler himself when he has time. And hunter. I followed some of his whitetail adventures out-of-state on Facebook.

I find his website interesting, so I'm offering you the link to it.  

Last July Aboard King's Ransom

Millington Gorge Passaic River Trout

Millington Gorge has the expected strong currents in abundance, though the river does get some relief here and there where it slows a bit. Water isn't especially deep but plenty to hold trout. And while you may think of the Passaic as a mud-bottomed river where carp thrive, don't expect to catch any carp in the Gorge. Rocks are all over the place, and if you're careless while wading, you'll get wet. 

In addition to trout, Brenden Kuprel, who showed me the way today, says the Gorge has sunfish and largemouth bass. Not too many of either. While we fished, I was preoccupied with salmon eggs that seemed too soft to have been salted, very frustrated with them, as trout after trout hit and snitched them, so the thought of smallmouth bass didn't occur to me until later. Brenden had already left. Later, he told me he's caught none, heard of none, and doesn't believe any exist there. 

Smallmouths are abundant in the Passaic near Patterson.

Brenden had invited me last night. We met at 9:30 a.m. in the lot near the railroad tracks. Classic American scene of free-growing and free-flowing wilds. I fear that if we lose such access, we'll lose our nation, too. It will implode like an ancient bag woman who sits against a wall staring at a Time Square screen all day, all night, infinitely appalled. 

We each got our waders on, and I believe it was when I reached for my vest that I realized I had left my rod at home. That is the first time I have ever gone fishing and forgotten the rod. Or rods. Any amount of rods forgotten. I'm told my memory loss is normal for my age. Everyone seems to dance around the fact that both of my parents died due to complications from Alzheimer's. Just putting that out there in case you're wondering. I'm not much afraid of it. I already know from apparently normal memory loss that you can know you're at loss and not suffer. The important thing is that you're beginning to enter the final stages of a full and flourishing life.

I got my rod and got back there, parking my Honda Civic right next to Brenden's Forrester. I left my cell phone in the car, because I didn't want the responsibility. But you can see that Gorge is down there, by looking at the photos, and I got down there and didn't see Brenden. I took a few casts in some slower water, missing a hit. Later, I asked Brenden if they actually stock where we began. He thinks they do but isn't certain. In any event, we found trout everywhere in the Gorge, and plenty of water remained that we didn't fish. 

I decided to climb back up and call Brenden. He had made his way upstream and said parking exists. I drove up Pond Hill Road and took a spot from very little space left. A couple of good 'ole boy types, full of foul language, told me they had caught one trout. I said to Brenden that can mean one of two things: few trout or they left plenty behind. His smile in return seemed to be a knowing one.

The place was loaded, and I took some home. As I had been saying, I missed hits from fish after fish. Finally, I caught one after I did the obvious thing and tried a different jar of eggs. Then another after Brenden left. (He had caught some on a fake worm under a float, though I don't know how many.) I walked just a little further upstream where Brenden had caught one and began picking off one after another from that run and yet another run even further up. I ran up a total of 15 trout caught.

The second fish I hooked on further upstream from where I caught the first two was a real river horse, a trout of at least 16 inches, hooked in powerful current and hugging bottom...so I felt I had control. Water is slack at bottom. 

You don't work a fish too hard on a microlight rod and two-pound test, but you can put pressure on it, which is what I did, knowing I had to tire it out, however long it would take. It was taking a while. Instead, the hook pulled free. 

Oh, well.

 

Having climbed almost to the top.

 Basking Ridge Road

The Microlight Quest: Trout, Adventure, Renewal

New Jersey Trout Anglers for Browns Stocked

Brown Trout Petition Surprised to see the petition launched in 2019, but it just goes to show that the sentiment gaining strength now is not new. I guess it's being communicated more. The growing call among New Jersey trout stamp holders to see brown trout stocked again. I know many of us talk about brookies stocked again, too, but that seems very unlikely, now that the new law is in place. That brook trout in the Trout Conservation Zone must be released. The zone dominates northwestern New Jersey. Once a legal precedent is set, it's difficult to go back on it.  

Why is New Jersey special? Furunculosis happens in state hatcheries across the country. A common disease that other states deal with, without discontinuing brown trout stockings. Perhaps more research would serve me well, but since I'm cramped for time, I'll suggest that anyone who wants to know more about why can look for answers online. I just point out, as we all know, that having only rainbow trout stocked makes for a less interesting fishery.

Scott Fisher's petition needs more signatures. It's not that I know about politics in New Jersey. I'm not very informed, because I spend my time otherwise. But anyone can tell that a petition with a large percentage of signatures from among everyone who buys the stamp, is a moving document in and of itself. It makes the difference of objectifying our cause. Whether the people in office do anything or not. They can't help but listen when collectively we become loud. 

I, for one, have felt very proud of Pequest. Just read my article from 2020, which I link to at bottom. I've felt as if New Jersey must be an exceptionally well-stocked state. But when it comes down to division, I'm on the side of the trout fishermen, being one of them, of course. And it's come down to division, already, when we should be a whole community--the Division of Fish and Wildlife and us together. Tom Kean used to say it. "Perfect together." People in the Division don't really want to be left out, nobody does, but maybe the onus is on them to make the difference only they can, through hearing our petition. 

Whether we're well-stocked or not, we're certainly a state like no other when it comes to attitude among anglers. I've done a little searching out of Facebook trout communities, and I never found another like Trout Fishing in Nj. Now we have NJ Multispecies Mayhem on Facebook, too, and I doubt it's possible for any online fishing community as brash to arise anywhere else. Maybe I could have looked harder, but I doubt it. As we all know, New Jersey is the most densely populated state. That gets us at each others throats, but it also concentrates the passion among us. It makes us the most socially vibrant trout community anywhere in the world, I'll bet.

Pequest Hatchery