First Walleye

I didn't photograph the pickerel I caught, which came on one of the live herring weighted on bottom. A first after 15 years of fishing Lake Hopatcong during October., but not the only first today and much less significant. Other than that, I caught a small hybrid on herring and Brenden Kuprel caught a bullhead. All of our other fish came on lures, but another hybrid did take a herring and take off with it at high speed, peeling line off the spool, bail opened. By the time I tried to hand the rod up to Brenden at the bow, the line was spooled! I had an extra reel to put on the rod and rig for more of the herring. 

Brenden caught his first walleye today. That leaves me with lasting satisfaction, because we work together and he's talked about catching a walleye for years. Finally, we got out on Hopatcong in the fall when walleyes are vulnerable. He caught it on a Binsky after sunset. His big hybrid weighed five pounds, one ounce, according to a scale I once tested on a five pound bag of sugar. The weight was spot on. The light plastic grip I attached to the scale might have weighed an ounce or two. We didn't want to harm the hybrid's mouth. Caught it on a jig tipped with a dead herring fished about 30 feet down.

Most but not all of our fish hit about that deep. My second hybrid hit a Binsky in about 13 feet of water close to shore. Brenden even caught a yellow perch on a sizeable jig intended for bass among shoreline rocks. Water temp was 56 to 58, though, so the lake is all but thoroughly turned over, giving walleyes and hybrids reign of the depths. 

It was a comfortable day. As predicted, fog had moved in, but by the time I got up to Dow's later than expected, it had rolled back out. Temps were near 70 and it rained a little only at the end. We even enjoyed a little sunlight on the colors of the leaves. 

Walleye hit a Binsky.

Hybrid hit a Binsky.

Walleye hit a Binsky

 

Bait is Visceral When Visceral Needed

Actually, Kevin Murphy's pickerel catch gets first mention. He caught it on a piece of nightcrawler weighted on bottom by a large split shot. Can anyone imagine a pickerel picking up a piece of worm from the bottom? 

My heart was set on the Binky. I gave my arm a workout, but only to become more and more certain the fish were deeper than the 33-foot depths where I could work the lure. I've used outboards since I was 16, but I can't remember if the ones I owned at the shore had kill cords. (I do know my first outboard--a 1955 Evinrude I believe was the brand--did not.) Dow's outboards do have them, and I failed to realize that was why the engine wouldn't start. We stayed on that relatively shallow drop all morning and early afternoon, trying intermittently to get the motor to turn over! 

The water temp was 58. At 56, the lake should be completely turned over. That means oxygen was very deep today, so the fish had opportunity. 

I wish we had had more opportunity ourselves, but the three-pound, 13-ounce hybrid I caught was a good one. Kevin had a great time, too. A lot of sunnies, crappies, yellow and a white perch, and a rock bass caught. Also, a pickerel about two feet long engulfed one of my Binskys boatside, almost immediately cutting 15-pound fluorocarbon leader. I managed to lose two other Binkys to snags. 

That hybrid sure did awaken my interest in live herring. I was thinking of throwing only lures next Tuesday, but I've thought again. I guess a lot of fisherman think bait is nasty stuff, messy and not as sporting as playing lures. But especially when it gets cold--and 40 degrees this morning in the wind was cold--bait is visceral when visceral is needed. 

Enhanced Fishery

 

A Brother Fishes Out West

Fished a little and caught another sunfish on the fly rod. Didn't expect so many others out fishing. The leaves in the water seemed to be more of a problem than yesterday, but I thoroughly enjoyed the fly casting and feel ambitious for more. I have a brother who fly fishes out west. I'd like to go with him out there and beat him at casting, numbers of trout caught, and size. I have only three more years at the job.

Can't promise you, but I might be back out here early in the morning soon. 

 

Near Where George Washington Staged his Army

Nice to be back. 

First I came with both the newly owned fly rod and the ultralight I built from a St. Croix blank. I got in the river and threw a little Rapala Countdown, the rod catapulting it very far on six-pound mono. The situation did not feel right for catches. And there were almost a dozen others and one trout caught. Word is, they got stocked yesterday.

I got out of the river and went home until sunset neared. I live close enough to walk there if I want. 

Then I returned with my fly rod. Began under the exit bridge. I heard my friend Brenden calling me from downstream. He was fly casting. I went downstream, crossed the river, and joined him.

We talked and talked. When the sun had set, the guy fly casting upstream a little asked if I were Bruce Litton. He knew me from the blog. I asked him for his name. Doug fished, if I rightly recall, a pheasant tail, and definitely an egg fly, under an indicator. It went down and he hooked up, but he lost the fish. We also call it the Magic Hour because two guys downstream of us landed trout on plugs. I got hit and had one on half a second. I used a big blue-purple nymph with four white rubber legs just trying to irk a hit. Besides that one hit I got, I caught a red-breasted sunfish. 

Maybe three weeks ago, I wrote Bedminster's mayor about the cones that have been gone a week or so. Our boys were in Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts and it was nice to catch up with him a little. I believe wild access is a sacred value in America. It took me some doing to come back home to this opinion when I was in my early 30's, because I had accepted much of Ayn Rand's philosophy. But if you want to live in a country where everything is privatized--go to Britain. You'll have a real hard time accessing a river there. We fought the British to win our own nation. I own a book named Ayn Rand: The Russian Radical, which makes a strong point of how Russian she remained. Given her Russian character, one might suppose she didn't really understand Americans. I certainly understood the sacredness of access from my boyhood, so that remained with me until I began waking up when I was about 32 and fished the Middle Brook--near where George Washington staged his army. 

North Branch Raritan at Bedminster

 

Zoo's Open

The cones at North Branch Raritan River's AT&T stretch (the Zoo) and the Bedminster Pond stretches are gone. Access is resumed and I just hope the state goes ahead and stocks next week. I plan on fly fishing on Wednesday. 

More About North Branch

Lopatcong Creek NJ Restoration

Troutscapes    It's been since January when Troutscapes posted the article, but I find it remains newsworthy. Dam removal and restoration makes a great difference in the natural quality of a stream or river. I've paid attention to such work in NJ for a decade or so, having interviewed Brian Cowden and many others in-the-know for articles I've written and got published.

Caught Largemouths and Pike

Fred Matero wanted to catch smallmouth bass today, and so did I. We did succeed in making our way downstream along the Raritan to the railroad bridges. First, though, Fred showed me the Millstone River boat launch. It's functional. Fred told me he witnessed a 17-foot boat getting put in there. We cast for 10 minutes or so. I caught the longear photographed above on a #9 Rapala floater. 

From there, we found a park Fred knew about, hoping to access a trail back to the bridges. This would be a lot easier than walking down from the Manville Bridge. We found the park, but where we would park Fred's SUV and take the trail, it was posted No Trespassing. 

We parked at the bridge. I waded upstream to try a hole I knew about from 2006. My son found it by falling in. He was wading, sauntering along, and suddenly was in over his head. Like that day, also, I caught nothing. 

And on down below, we were able to fish at the first two bridges. (We didn't go down to the third.) Both had deep water we plumbed with jigs and Senkos. I cast a Rapala, too, but all that happened for me were sunfish taps on the Senkos. Fred caught a couple of sunfish, and that was it.

So I forwarded to him the idea of fishing the Passaic for pike. I guess after the two fairly recent trips there, I had bass in mind, too. I didn't express my feeling, but I felt firmly confident that we would catch fish. We just had to get there, do it, and see if my feeling would pay off.

We got swiped by a couple of little pike not far from the bridge. On further down, where Oliver and I have done well, nothing happened besides a 10 1/2-inch largemouth for me on a five-inch Rapala Minnow. It wasn't until we got further down yet that the fishing broke lose, and my feeling that the river must be overfished lifted. On a Senko, Fred hooked a pike of at least 24 inches, I got a good look at the fish. It came off and went for the Senko a second time, Fred missing that hit as well. I caught a little 12-inch pike, and then for 10 minutes or so, I caught fish left and right, ending at a total of four bass and three pike. None of the bass were better than 10 1/2 inches, and the two other pike were 15 and 16 inches. Fred caught one of the  bass of about 10 1/2 inches. 

We had to go, after fishing maybe two hours.