Convergence '19: Grand Finale

It was a sight to behold. The river, under moderate flows and good clarity, packed back to bank and top to bottom with blueback herring. I'd seen nothing like it. It was a proper herring run, thousands of fish packing into a freestone stream to do what herring do in the spring. At first I didn't see much. But then, where a tongue of current swept around a rocky island, I saw a continuous stream of herring headed upriver.

In the runs, where photography from above the water's surface wasn't going to do anything to reveal the fish below, the herring were packed tightly against each other from the bottom of the river to just below the surface. In the eddies behind rocks, huge numbers of scales collected. Smallmouth were swimming around with herring in their mouths that they couldn't swallow. There were so many herring that they pushed right by the deep striper hole where they usually stop, unable to proceed without being swallowed. This school was so big they just pushed right on through that hole with ease and didn't stop until they reached rapids they couldn't pass. I just watched them for hours. They never really spawned, and I wouldn't see them do much spawning the next night either. I'm not quite sure why, I'd have expected a hellacious amount of spawning noise after dark. But they were there in massive quantities and it was an incredible show. It took me a while to peel myself away and start fishing.

 The fishing was slow those two nights.

A half dozen bass between 25 and 28 inches kept me optimistic but I never got the hookup I was hoping for. In fact, the most impressive fish I caught during that time was a walleye that smoked a large black deceiver. 

To be fair, I didn't really need much more than what I got. What fish I did catch were enough to keep me alert, and the shear significance of what was going on around me was all I needed to take away in memory. I can't possibly impress upon you the volume of herring that was swimming in this river these two nights. It was an awesome spectacle. The air smelled of them, a sweet, melon sort of small, and loose scales made the water sparkle in the light. Other wildlife abounded too. This period featured one of the strongest pushes of yellow eels I'd seen. I found five wood turtles in three nights. The grey tree frogs all worked up. Giant helgramites were wandering in the streets. This was it. Big striped bass or not, this is why I put up with the sleepless nights, pouring rain, cold wind, and risky wading. As the calendar turned over to June and the run petered out, I was satisfied with all that I'd seen and done, and already thinking about the next season. I'll be waiting. Convergence '20 starts in just 10 months.

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