Two Days Worth of Big Panfish and Dink Bass

These last few days were kind of weird. Either I forgot how to catch large bass or they forgot how to eat. I sure didn't forget how to catch large panfish though. Monday I went to the river hoping for  hex hatch that never really materialized. I caught a lot of little bass on top. I mean a lot. But Tuesday would shatter that.

On the lake yesterday I caught a stupid number of smallmouth. And not one was over a pound. Don't get me wrong, even a 1/2 pound smallmouth fights very well, but I'm looking for those 5-6 pound fish.

The panfish, on the other hand, did not disappoint.  caught some really good sized rockbass, white perch, and various sunfish for this particular body of water.

Big hybrid sunfish

One thing  noticed was that every fish seemed to be keyed in on midges. Most smallmouth I caught had throats full of adult midges, sometimes they were pouring out the gills. Looks like I might need to bring a lighter rod and some gnats next time!

Why?

One day a while back when I was out with my friend Noah just searching a few striper and sea run trout waters we stopped at a gas station. I needed some food and something to drink. I was in waders, wearing a hat with a fly on it, and I probably smelled of fish because we had just come from a place that produced a serious number of stripers. The cashier asked me if I had been fishing and if I had caught anything. I replied "Yup, some decent striped bass" and had a but of conversation I get all too often. This may not be exactly what the cashier said, but it should at least be close.

Cashier: "How many are you taking home for dinner?'

Me: "None."

Cashier: (looking very confused and surprised) "You mean you just let them go back? Why?"

Me: "I don't really need to keep them, and it's not good for the population to be keeping stripers regularly"

Cashier: (still perplexed) "I'd take them if you don't want them. (laughing) If you get more today bring them here for me".

Me: (chuckling and shaking my head) "Sure thing, have a nice day".

I have that interaction way more than I care to. Some people haven't the slightest clue why someone would go out of their way to catch a fish and not take it home to eat. I'm not sure I fully understand why. I mean jeez, the stuff I put myself through. Read my last post. The storm and endless miles of hiking wasn't even the full extent of the stuff I put up with. There were nettles everywhere, which are just evil plants. The mosquitoes seemed to ignore my bug repellent entirely. And holy crap was it ever muddy. Even the ferns, which had just been submerged by flooding and had not yet been full rinsed off, were covered in muck that got all over me and made me smell pretty much exactly like a turtle. That wasn't the worst mud I've put up with though. 

Why the hell would any sane person put themselves through that just to stick a hook in a fish's face, fight it in, and pull that hook out and let it go back to its habitat?

This spring I put in some serious time and effort to target stripers during the herring run in my closest small tidal river. I probably rode my bike 80 miles total during those trips, often returning home late at night or early in the morning, I battled wind, rain, and tides, and even got stranded on an island for an entire night. Why? 

Last year my Dad and I slogged through a gnarly swamp in the back woods of ME, ruining his back for weeks and making us both extremely sore and muddy. For some small (compared to some fisheries)  wild brook trout. Some of my fishing friends don't even get that one. 

There are a lot of us though, people who are obsessed with fly fishing, and who release more fish than they keep. People who will get dirty, walk far, loose sleep to find that fish. It's kind of like a sickness. And much like people who like pineapple on pizza, those who don't have it will never quite understand. 

It's something deep within me. That first week long boy scout summer camp where I fished almost every day woke it up 8 years ago, and I haven't been the same since. It's my life now. I've made some of my best friends through fishing, and memories enough for two or three lifetimes. At this rate I'll probably be a babbling nut job by age 60.  

(Malachi Lytle Photo)

This evening, or should I say last night (It's 1:06 already? Damn.) I fished with my best friend and my brother, and we got the piss beat out of us only to persevere and double up on stripers in the last inning. Mosquitoes, mud, razor sharp grass, and no-seeums made it almost unbearable.

(Malachi Lytle Photo) 

So why do we do we put up with these things just to hold a fish for a few moments?

You're asking the wrong guy. 

Tromping Around VT Looking for Toothy Critters

Northern pike have evaded me for a pretty absurd number of years considering how frequently I target them and how often I fish areas that have them. I decided that maybe it was a CT issue, so when the opportunity to go to Vermont and fish a particularly good pike river came up I jumped on it. Otter Creek is part of a watershed that constitutes the easternmost extent of the Esox lucius native range in the U.S.; it has a thriving population and exceptional average size. So I was pretty confident.

On the way up on Saturday we drove through some pretty rough weather, which turned out to be a hint at what I would experience later in the day.

We got to the place we were staying and it was nice and sunny out. I wasted no time, I geared up and hiked to the river. 

Otter Creek is a cool place, but it is far from optimal for walk-n'-wade fishing. I one regard I was fairly luck with the flow the riverwas pushing while I was there. It was around 450cfs, which meant the normally tall mud banks were not as tall as normal. Unfortunately the rain that day and the day before had made the water a bit turbid and that really did prove to be challenging. 

I don't jump into a new fishery uninformed. I had a pretty good idea about how things would go down from reading reports, watching videos, and spending a few hours on google maps. I knew I would have to focus on tributary mouths and field ditch outlets. I knew that red and white had been the most productive colors during the week before. And I new what kinds of natural bat would be present. Knowledge is key, but luck helps. I got fairly lucky and found a creek mouth that feed from a large flooded area where pike spawn in the spring. It was both relatively clear and full of bait fish. It did not take long. I cast my big white and red pike fly up into some heavy downed trees and ripped it along the cut bank, long fast strips interrupted by abrupt pauses. The fly got trashed, I strip set, and after an epic but short fight I had my first northern pike on the fly. Not a big pike, but you have to start somewhere and it was pretty much a perfect specimen. 

Not long after that in the same winding cut I had a take from a bigger fish. Once again it was sitting underneath the cut bank, this time under a tree's root ball, and it absolutely trashed my fly. It trashed it so hard it knocked about three feet of slack in my line and ruined any chance I had at getting a reasonable hookset. Unfortunately that ended up being that last pike take I'd get all weekend, but that doesn't mean the excitement was over, so stick around. 

As I was walking through some meadows on the way to the next spot I had map-scouted, I could hear some rumbling to the NW and see big crisp white towering cumulus with a dark broad base. This was not looking good. A quick look at the radar confirmed my fears. I like seeing thunderstorms but I don't like being stuck out in the woods in them quite as much. I got to the end of the meadow and looked north. 

I've rode out a few storms in the woods, this one was the scariest. I watched it approach from the end of the field, big dark curtains of rain moving left to right under a dark roiling leading edge. When it was getting too close for comfort I ran, cutting through a row of trees, the next field, and then down the dirt road. I got on the leeward side of a small bluff, chose a leaning tree that would sufficiently shelter me from the rain, and prepared myself and my gear for a good drenching.

About 10 minutes into the heavy rain and frequent ground shaking cloud to ground lightning strikes, a bolt struck a tree just a few hundred yards away on the other side of the bluff. It was one of those lightning strikes that was so close and so violent that there was no time between the bolt and the thunder, and the noise was just an insanely loud pop. I jumped, and could not get comfortable again until the rain stopped. My mind was running through scenarios that mostly ended up with my lying on the ground with my clothes smoking and my boots busted open at the toe. Fortunately none of those scenarios played out and the storm passed, leaving me a little soggy and a lot relieved.

I spent the rest of the afternoon hiking around not catching pike. It was a blast.

This morning I was back out hoping for one more pike. I tried for the one I had missed the day before but he either wasn't there or wouldn't eat.I poked around in that cut for a while before going to find a culvert outlet into a marsh.  found it, and there were some little pickerel there. Not really what I was looking for, so I moved on. 

I ended up following railroad tracks an fishing a number of different spots, none of which produced. Though a 38-40 inch pike would have made it a really good day, I enjoyed every bit of it. I saw lots of wildlife out and about, including a small snapping turtle that somehow got itself stuck between the rails. How he got himself there I have no clue, he was way too small to get over the rails without help. Fortunately I was there to help. 

What a weekend. It's so great to live in a part of the country where you can drive three hours and be in a totally different environment with a wildly different fishery. Eventually I'll revisit Otter Creek, preferably when the water is lower and I have the kayak with me.