Getting in The Crap

 I have a habit of not linking to lose fish. I really don't like it, if it can be avoided. I also don't like to let seemingly impossible situations prevent me from taking a shot. I will cast at carp tailing within fallen trees, brown trout rising tight to grass tussocks, or bowfin deep in the weeds. I love to fish for stripers right in boulder fields, pike in narrow creek channels, and brook trout under low canopy. My natural inclination when I see something difficult or seemingly impenetrable is to take it as a challenge. It gets me to more productive spots and catches me fish others mat not even cast at.

Last week I had my client Jim on the canoe for a multispecies trip with some emphasis on bowfin. I finally spotted one in a spot I'd highlighted prior as a likely consistent producer. This fish was sitting nearly stationary in a messy tangle of roots and branches. I knew this fish would eat and I knew we could get her in the net if we played everything right. I nosed the canoe into the crap and Jim dropped Drew Price's Mr. Bow-regard on the fish. It actually backed up to eat the fly, then dove straight down into the sticks. Not to be deterred, I made sure the canoe was securely placed and entered the water to assure I could put the fish in the net. She was buried under a few logs but I was able to finagle her out, and Jim got to hold his first ever bowfin!

Though I was prepared to dive under if I had to for that bowfin, it was nice not to need to. While carp fishing in Rhode Island last week though, I was forced to take somewhat drastic action. I found some fish feeding in an area around multiple deadfalls. There really wasn't any gap between the deadfalls and open water. The space the carp were feeding in was very finite. If hooked a fish was most certainly going to leave that area through the deadfalls. I was willing to take that risk. The fish I presented to ate with confidence and when the hook was set she promptly exited under a large mostly submerged log. I removed my sling pack and entered the water, plunging under to feed my rod under the log without jamming the tip against anything. I emerged and the fish was still on. I finished the battle and netted the carp in muddy, belly deep water. Was it necessary? No. Was it fun? Heck yes. Did it save me from skunking? Indeed it did. That lake didn't produce another fish. 

Now it must be said, none of this is necessary. You don't need to dive under logs to catch  fish, you don't even need to land every fish you hook. You probably don't even want to do this stuff. But I kinda do. I'm at a point in my fishing career where I'm more interested in the fish I don't think I'll have any easy shot at landing than the ones I can almost guarantee. I want to be the best angler I can be and to me, the best angler I can be is being capable of catching every fish possible, and knowing what fish I aren't possible. Is that even remotely attainable? 

Nope.  

But getting in the crap, diving into the water, and plowing through prickers gets me a little bit closer. 

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