How to Salvage a Trip

We were about an hour outside Charlottesville when I realized I'd forgotten all my fishing equipment except for my wading pants and an old t-shirt. I had been anticipating this outing quite a bit. Pennsylvania's fish-for-free day was falling on my birthday, and we happened to be heading home that weekend anyway. I planned to fly fish my home river for a reasonably lengthy stretch, something I hadn't done in close to a decade.

I was utterly dismayed. The river was never a great stretch, but it held fish and I was more interested in feeling nostalgic and in examining the changes to the waters I used to know inside and out. I tried to come up with an alternate plan, knowing I still had odds and ends of gear at my mom's house, and thinking I could buy cheap versions of the rest from Wal-Mart or borrow from my dad.

That plan fell apart quickly. I uncovered the reels with 15-year-old fly line and dug up the spools of monofilament I could use for a leader (the bass and bluegills wouldn't be shy). The problem was with the rods. I had three there (instead of the two I was expecting). One was cracked and taped together as I remembered. The second was worse. The third one -- my dad's original fly rod with non-functioning automatic reel still attached -- was the one I hoped to use. It was cracking at a joint, too, and I wasn't willing to risk either the rod or the outing on its durability.

So I had to drop the fly fishing idea, but I could spinning gear from my dad, and a nearby vending machine could sell me bait regardless of the hour I got around. Now I was set.

Except I got up that morning and immediately learned that we were under a tornado watch. I considered my options, really hoping not to miss out on fishing (and we had plans for the afternoon and evening, so there was no chance of trying to wait out the watch). The mile-long wade/hike was out, but I could park near the river and keep within running distance. It would have to do.

I wasn't that optimistic, and when I realized I'd forgotten to grab split shot and had only my dad's oversized equipment, I realized I just had to adapt. The grey sky mildly worrying, I snagged bottom my second cast, freed it and kept moving.

But the day would change. On cast number six or so, I hooked something with some bulk, and when it flashed silver, I was stunned. Moments later I landed a fat, foot-long rainbow trout. I'd just been thinking that the second biggest trout I'd ever caught had come from that pool but that that pool was completely different. It still holds fish.

I worked my way as far downstream as I could and the sky turned black and I worked my way back toward the car. I was working a little slack spot I thought would produce some panfish. The line pulled tight and I brought in a brown a little smaller than his predecessor. I've caught trout in this river this late in the year, but not often. It must be my birthday.

I moved upstream to a spot that used to be good for rock bass (I've come to feel a special pleasure in this fish -- once regarded as forgettable "puners", they've taken on a sort homecoming significance since I rarely catch them in VA). Making miraculous casts between brances to exactly the spots I needed, I landed 2 or 3.

After that, I pushed through some brush to where I hoped I could catch a smallie. I did. He was only about 6 inches, but I wasn't greedy. I'd fished through the sporadic light rain, the storms had circled by us, and I'd had very pleasing grand slam for my birthday.

It was exactly what I would have asked for, but I'd have never had that day if I'd brought my fly gear. I planned on throwing bass and bluegill bugs, so the trout would have been extremely unlikely (unless I'd changed to something like a woolly bugger or soft-hackle by that point). I might have caught more fish or bigger bass in the stretch I didn't get to fish, but things wouldn't have been as interesting. And that's how to salvage a trip and have a happy birthday.

Of all days to forget the camera...

You can probably tell by the big gaps in post that I haven't any outings ridiculously good, ridiculously bad, or just ridiculous lately (though I do have a few more reports to get up this year). Today, though, was a very strange one, and of course I managed to forget my camera when I could have used it a few times.

They stocked the "lakes" (and I use this term rather than "ponds" because that's technically the name) in an area park this week. I'd rather be somewhere more exciting, but you take what you can get, so I figured I'd head out for a couple hours in the rain this morning, and just throw some nightcrawlers to see if I can get into bass, panfish, or catfish, if the trout weren't biting.

I walked past the three people already fishing who probably had the energy to set their alarms last night (presumably not Red Sox or Angels fans). No luck, so I took the trail around the lake through a bit of woods. I came to a snake on the trail, who seemed to have no interest in moving for me. I thought at first that it was a black snake, but it had these bands around it, and a troublingly triangular head. Still, it was in my way, so I did what any thinking person would do: I poked it with my rod.

It didn't flinch. Was it dead. I tried to roll it over, at which point it raised its head and gave me a really dirty look. Given the slitty eyes and the white underbelly, this thing was looking like a cottonmouth, and despite all scientific evidence that they don't live in Albemarle County, it looked like one, so I left.* With no photo.

On my way back around the lake, I saw something stirring on the surface of the lake. I got closer and saw it was a turtle taking bites out of a chunk of fishing floating there. No camera (though I'm not sure I needed that shot).

I took a little bluegill and was trying to figure out what to do about the bum fishing, when it suddenly turned on. I took 4 bass up to about 11 inches and one decent 'gill over the next 30-40 minutes, and I lost a monster bluegill near the bank. Suddenly it stopped.

I don't think it was related, but a group of six, mostly kids, had showed up and marked their spots all along the bank. One did catch a bluegill, which they called a "perch".** It was a nice group, but I needed some space. I was ready for new tactics, so I tied on my floating minnow and headed for the lower lake.

Shortly after, I heard a big commotion in the woods behind me. I turned and saw a huge buck running between the trees. I couldn't count, but I'm sure he had at least 8 points, and I'd believe 10 or 12, on a wonderfully symmetrical rack. No camera.

Then back to the upper lake, where I quickly snagged someone's fishing line. I could feel a light throb as I reeled in, so once I got my lure to the bank, I grabbed the other line by hand and pulled it -- and the 13-inch rainbow trout attached -- to shore. The fish had been hooked deep with a bait hook and was bleeding, and he had apparently broken off an angler's line, but not at the hook or the swivel -- the line must have somehow broken near the reel, because there was a long distance out. I gave the trout to the family, and after a few casts with my Pcola spoon went home.

So it was an odd day, with lots to report on considering I only caught six of my own fish. Despite the fun, I remembered why that's not my preferred fishing. I listened to other people talk about where the stocking truck had dumped the fish (coincidentally right next to where nearly all the trout I saw had been caught), about following the trucks around and then catching a limit, about snagging carp with big lures. Not really my scene.

Still, I wish I'd had my camera.


*If anyone can convince me that this was something else, I'd love to hear it. I hate to be someone wildly reporting a dangerous animal where it's not supposed to live, but I really can't find anything else that had that combination of viper head and eyes, black-on-black banding, and white belly.

**This is apparently a regional thing, as it's not the first time I've encountered it. Before I realized this usage, I was looked at like I was an idiot when I once expressed surprise that there were "perch" in a pond.

Drama! Excitement!

About a week ago my wife and I had a day to get our canoe out on a local lake we'd never been on before. It's the first time we've had it out this year (and one of the few times we've ever had it out), and it would be the first time Nicole had ever fished from a canoe.

We were pretty excited, and got it launched without too much trouble. The reservoir had some other people out, but not too much pressure, and we headed for a secluded cove. We hadn't been fishing long when something big took my bait. I was using the ultralight, and I knew immediately that I was in for a real battle.

I slowly gained ground on the fish, and when I saw it flash, the sight confirmed it was bigger than anything I've caught in years. Nicole was cheering me on, and when I got it near the canoe, I was sure I was going to lose it when it surged under the boat. My rod tip was yanked under, but the line held.

I pulled the fish to the surface, and with only a little difficult, netted the beast. It turned out to be a 23-inch channel catfish, the biggest cat I've ever caught, and probably the second heaviest fish of any species I've ever taken, all on an ultralight rod in a canoe. When I brought him into the boat, he twisted his head and the knot gave way. Incredible.

Nicole was right in describing him as both "beautiful" an "majestic". I quickly slid him back into the water.

Nicole was getting bites, but no fish, and I took one more bluegill. We paddled to a new location (just out of curiosity). We had some issues with snags here, including me launching a cast two feet too far into a fallen tree. We finally got squared away, and the canoe sloooowly starting tilting to the left. And it kept tipping.

When we hit the water, I pushed back on the canoe to keep it from turning over, and I grabbed a rod. We were dunked, but we saved everything except my ultralight combo and one pack of hooks (notable only in showing how little we lost and how blessed we were). We dragged everything to shore and turned the canoe upside down.

A couple guys in a bass boat came by and held the canoe steady while we got back in. An older couple paddled by in their canoe and gave us snotty looks. Yes, I was properly embarrassed -- you don't need to remind me.

We fished a little longer, but some of the fun of it (for me at least) was gone. So we loaded up and went home. Content with having had a proper adventure.


Sidenote: in the continuing circle hook study, I took both fish on circle hooks. The cat was hooked securely in the upper lip, but the 'gill was gut-hooked, and, I suspect, didn't make it. Nicole didn't get any hook-ups on baitholder hooks with fluorocarbon leaders, but this may have more to do with hook-setting technique than with hook choice.

"Cane" Pole Fishing

I decided this spring to try something a little different. I regularly fish from the bank of a local lake in which lilypads quickly take over the first few feet of water. I've seen some decent bass in these area, and while I've been able to coax hits on floating worms cast past the pads and brought back over them, I've never been able to hook up. I'd also be glad to have an extra method to pull out bream and crappie from such areas.

My solution? A cane pole. And by "cane," I mean a 13-foot piece of telescoping graphite. But it's still the basic rig. I've never tried to do this before (though I wanted to years ago at The Pond), so I read up on it online and figured that was enough. I tied a 13-foot piece of 10-pond monofilament to the end, grabbed a couple bobbers and some worms and headed off.

It's a little late in the year for my purposes (and let's blame this on the backordering and shipping practices of a certain large retailer). The fish here have been starting to move deeper and the spawn, at least for most species, has happened and the fish are out a little more. Still, I figured I could have some fun.

Well, yes and no. It's hard than I thought it would be. I hadn't considered the amount of overheard clearance I'd need to "cast" in some situations, nor how heavy the pole would be after a few hours. I also thought I'd be able to get my bait and bobber into the water both more precisely and more quietly (although I think I can improve on both counts with practice).

In the end, I caught six very small 'gills, but not that I couldn't have caught with conventional tackle and a bobber. I think the real experiment will have to wait for next spring.

Interestingly, though, I tried circle hooks again. My hook-up ratio was far worse than on previous outings, but I blame this on the minuscule fish involved, apparently just pecking at the crawler pieces without inhaling the hook. On the upside, I didn't have any bad hooks, any difficult unhookings, or any blood.

One last thing: this sort of fishing, I suspect, won't match conventional or fly options for excitement, but there is something adrenaline-inducing when you realize you're swinging a spiny fish, with biggish hook directly at your face from 15 feet away. So at least there's that drama.

Big Day

Saturday was Jasper's birthday, so we headed out for what a friend accurately described as an "epic" day. The day involved a picnic; feeding ducks, geese, and koi; a very exciting train ride; and, of course, fishing.

We were using nightcrawlers on circle hooks. My dad was helping Ava, and they were fishing theirs under a bobber. I initially was throwing mine with split shot and getting it on the bottom. I got heavily outfished, so I switched to the bobber and got my only hit of the day.

Ava dominated the day, landing 2 bluegill, which would have been fun enough. The first treasure was that fish number one was a catfish. She said weeks ago she really wanted to catch a catfish, so I was thrilled when I saw the silvery form coming in. It was maybe 10 inches or so, hefty for a 2-foot-long Dora rod, and Ava was thrilled to touch its whiskers (and she's now caught the same number of channel catfish in her life as I have). Unfortunately, the camera was busy taking Jasper and his mom for a walk that day.

Ava's other fish was a legitimate trophy, all things considered, a largemouth bass that, measured against my rod, went between 12 and 12.5 inches. It was all Ava and Pappy could do to reel it in. Here's the monster fish:



And here's Ava, unprompted, doing her best Jimmy Houston impression:



All in all, a pretty amazing day. And it may be that the kid is outfishing me already...

The Circle Hook Experiment

The last two outings that we've taken the kids on (more on the second in a later post), I've experimented with circle hooks. I've had two issues with kid fishing (and with my own, for that matter) that I thought circle hooks might resolve:

1) Ava, at less than 4, isn't really able to set the hook. Not only is her age a factor, but using a 2-foot rod with curly, cheap line isn't ideal.

2) Setting the hook when using a bobber is hard. This sounds stupid, but for those of us who have spent years learning to feel the line with a sinker or with a lure, it's hard to tell when to set the hook when the bobber's dipping, and how to keep the slack out of it.

The circle hook, I reasoned, would resolve this issues by eliminating the need to set the hook. I used the slightly different Gamakatsu octupus circle hooks, in either size 4 or 6. So here are the results of my experiments:

On my own rod, I had a total of 7 bites over about 90 minutes (all but one while not using a bobber). Without ever setting the hook myself, I hooked and landed 4 fish (I think 1 bass and 4 bluegill). I missed two (which I chalk up to little 'gills nibbling at the tips of worms), and it one instance I lost the whole hook. I'd blame it on a bad knot, except I'd already landed 3 fish on it. I'm not sure what happened. All four of my fish were hooked perfectly in the corner of the jaw.

Ava, with the assistance of first my stepdad and then her dad, caught 5 fish. There were a few bites that resulted in hook-set attempts, all of which failed. I'll save some of the details on the fish for my next post, but you've already seen the trout Ava caught. Unfortunately, this one was hooked in the bottom of the mouth. After the bobber started running, my stepdad gave a little hookset here, so I don't know if that's too blame. The fish bled a little, and its revival was questionable.

Of the other 4 fish, 3 were hooked in the corner of the jaw, but one little gill was hooked through the top of the mouth, coming out between its eyes. The good news is that nearly all the hooks were exactly where they should be. The bad news is that the hooks are very thick, which led to a couple bleeding fish, and noticeable wounds. The other bad news is that with the thick wire and big barbs, hook removal was a little difficult, esp. on one fish where the hook had gone through the lip and re-entered the lip from the outside. Fortunately, all the fish except the trout were released with no noticeable trauma and swam off quickly.

One other note: I had a terrible time keeping vienna sausages on the hook, largely, I think, because the hook was too thick (even trying to use enough weight to cast with just a gentle lob).

My conclusions (obv. drawn after not a whole lot of research):

1) This is definitely an aid for helping kids catch fish. Ava landed all her fish without once needing a hookset (the trout being a strange case).

2) This is an aid for catching fish on a bobber. There's no question when the fish is on. When the bobber seems to be moving on its own, gently reel tight and the fish, if it's mouthed the hook, will be there.

3) The hooks are too thick for small freshwater purposes. I'd like a lighter wire hook for our target species, although that might change the effectiveness. I won't be using these hooks for my general fishing for that reason, although I might use them for catfish.

4) I'm not sure how to get around the thick-hook-fragile-bait issue, and am not sure how something like chicken livers would hold up. It may be that there are lighter wire circle hooks available.

As always, I'd be interested to hear other people's thoughts.

First Fish

A week ago we took the kids out for their first real fishing trip ever. Last year we went out briefly, caught a bluegill and then looked for frogs while keeping Jasper from cannonballing into the lake.

This time around, Ava was excited to be fishing, so I took her to the place I mentioned a while back that I hoped would work out for them. We had a Dora rod, a little tackle box, a bobber, and some nightcrawlers -- a perfect set-up for a three and a half year old. I had to do the casting (and provide varying degrees of hooksetting help), but it didn't take long until we brought the first fish (ever!) to hand:



The kids, happily, were thrilled. I didn't know how they'd respond, but they were both fascinated. Of course, some of us were equally interested in the bait as we were in the fish, but that's fine.



The kids took a break to go to the playground (and look at the mating frogs -- without explanation -- on the way), and after looking at some turtles, I started fishing. I had seen a huge bass earlier and was optimistic. The crappies were spawning, so I didn't go after them, but was hoping there were some post-spawners about.

I quickly took a decent bluegill and bass in the little cove. I moved back to the open area and switched to a topwater plug just to see what would happened. I had a strike from a huge crappie (hooked just enough to turn him and see the size) and then took a crappie and big 'gill.

Nicole and the kids came back, so I grabbed the Dora rod and went back to kid mode (mostly). Ava soon caught a blugill and a hefty 8-inch crappie, which put up quite a fight on the little rod. Unfortunately I didn't bring the camera to this part of the outing (although if I had I could also have photographed the northern watersnake the grown-ups saw). Then we hooked and lost a few. According to Ava, these fish wanted to eat the worm without trying to come up to say hi. Jasper started to get bored, and it seemed like a good idea to stop before Ava did, too. So even though she was still fishing intently. We stopped for ice cream on the way home, which was a perfect way to end a perfect day.

Dick Sternberg -- Fishing With Live Bait

Fishing With Live Bait by Dick Sternberg

My review

rating: 2 of 5 stars

I'm looking at this more for a side project of mine than because I'm actually planning on using the techniques, so I'm not sure how useful it was ever going to be to me. It's an interesting compendium, and -- as is usually the case with these books -- there are some great photos. I approve of the idea of starting with the bait rather than a target species and building a book around that

Its broadness is a weakness, though. You'll pick up a few tactics here and there for whatever you're doing, but I don't know that it will substantially improve your catch rates (though I will say it helped me get my daughter on to some panfish recently).

As a non-qualitative aside, there's some pretty gross stuff in here. Take that for what it's worth.


View all my reviews.

Fishin' in the Wind

A week or so ago I headed out to a local park with a couple ponds. I'd heard there were trout, bass, bluegill, and catfish in it, and I later learned that there are crappie as well (and possibly perch, although that term can mean different things to different people, and I've seen no signs of actual yellow perch).

Partly I wanted to catch fish, and partly I wanted to scope it out as a place to bring the kids (more on that in another post), so I just took my light spinning rod and a box of nightcrawlers. The day was rough, cold from the start, and I got hit by a slight shower.

I took an 11-inch bass and a reasonable sunfish pretty quickly. Both of these followed a slight disappointment. I already had my floating minnow tied on in the morning, so I started with that. I saw a silver flash come at it twice. I cast again, saw the same flash and paused the lure (sometimes a fish will come back to see why its prey stopped). A decent rainbow trout nosed up to lure and swam away quickly. It was the last sign I'd have of a trout all day.

The rain started and the fishing stopped, after such an optimistic start. After the rain, the wind picked up, probably the hardest I've ever fished in, and I knew I'd have to earn fish that day. I ended up with about 8 bluegill and 2 largemouths, not bad for just a few hours, considering the conditions.

The bluegill were of much bigger average size than I've seen around here, and the biggest was about 8 inches and fat. I caught him in a little cove, out of the wind, but on the side of the pond it was blowing into (the second bass came out of the same spot).

I checked the other pond in the park, which seemed to have fewer noticeable features, less accessibility, and more algae. However, I've sinced noticed that more people seem to fish that one. I'm not sure why.

Eventually I got out of the wooded area for fear of trees blowing down on me, but in the open it was hard. Without being able to simply pitch to structure, I had trouble casting, sometimes even letting the wind shoot my bait downwind, while I walked after it to take up the slack. Before long, it was too much work for too little expected reward (especially given that I was already pleased with the outing).

I was primarily happy for finding a place to take the kids, esp. my daughter, who's just becoming old enough to fish. There's lots of fishable water and plenty of panfish (with the chance of other species), so I think she can have some fun here. Today I proved myself right, but that's a post for another time...

Dick Sternberg - Panfish

Panfish: The Complete Guide to Catching Sunfish, Crappies, White Bass and Yellow Perch by Creative Publishing international

My review

rating: 3 of 5 stars
It's a solid intro to the sport, with some extra detail and spots in too little in others. I got it largely for the photos (which are, for the most part, pretty impressive, esp. the underwaters shots), but I picked up some ideas here and there, too.



The odd thing about reading this book is that it feels a little like a time-warp, or at least a remove from what I normally read. There's no concern with catch-and-release here, which isn't too surprising given that it's a book on panfishing. Some of the techniques are just things I haven't seen discussed in a while, like peeling live crayfish, using chunks of perch to catch perch, etc.



All in all worth the read, and more worth the pics, but not groundbreaking or anything.


View all my reviews.

Btw, we'll be back soon with more stories. This site hasn't turned into a reviews mag.

Carp

I've caught very few carp in my life (although here's photographic evidence to prove it's happened at least once):



There was a point, though, where I was obsessed with trying. On my home river, the fish would gather annually for unknown reasons in massive schools. They rarely contained the largest carp I'd ever seen, but the sheer numbers made me think I could catch one. I tried all kinds of bait, even cooking up doughballs from a special recipe, but with no luck. I even had a friend claim at a local lake that one bit him on the finger, but we still couldn't get them to hit worms, corn, or anything else.

Still, I managed to go from no luck to bad luck. I hooked a nice one out on the lake with my dad. As I fought it, Dad frantically hoisted anchor. The carp, of course, still managed to wrap itself around the anchor line and come off.

On another occasion, one took my bait in a different stretch of the river. At the last minute, he wrapped himself around a submerged tree and snapped the line.

I felt cursed. What I didn't feel -- and should have -- was that I simply didn't know how to catch carp. [I still don't, and one of my plans for the winter is frantic reading and video-watching on this subject.] I plugged away, sitting motionless on the bank watching fish motionless below me.

Eventually I had my moment. We were smallmouth fishing, having a decent day, when I caught sight of a monstrous carp in the shallows. Unlike most of the ones I fished for by sight, this one was actively feeding, and I knew I had a chance. I crept as close as I dared, and cast my nightcrawler just upstream of him. I couldn't see the bait, but I focused on where I knew it must be. I never felt the take, but when the carp opened and closed his mouth in just the right spot, I set the hook.

Never before nor since had I felt such power at the end of my line. I had 6-lb test on my Ugly Stik lite, and I had never been happier to have a properly set drag. The fish took off across the river, angling downstream. While the drag gave it line, I ran down the bank, trying not to lose the fish. He took me up and down the river a few times and I was wearing out.

Then we spot the main hazard. A large tree limb complete with a full set of branches and twigs, was in the river, and the carp was angling past it. Dad rushed out into the river and moved it, dodging my line. I finally turned the fatigued fish to shore and brought him in.

I couldn't even guess his weight, but he went about 33 inches, as measured to a mark on my rod. I put my gear down and revived him, and he swam off. I was thrilled, tired, and shaking.

Oddly, that afternoon, the situation almost replayed itself a few miles away, as I just missed another (not quite as big) feeding carp. Not too long later, I'd repay the carp world when I found one that had wedged itself into some vegetation. I'm not sure how or why it had happened, but I actually had to help the struggling carp back out of crevice between two rocks in the weeds. I hesitated to intervene, in case there was a reason it was behaving that way, but it seemed concerned, so I did.

I haven't caught a carp in a number of years, although I tried just last weekend (and every time bass or bluegill took the lure, I tensed, hoping to set the hook on a carp, or even one of the big cats I saw every few minutes). Hopefully the next one will be as exciting -- although not as long in coming -- as the first one.

Why Dad Should Visit More Often

My hiking boots were destroyed. I'd never wear them again. Both thumbs were raw and I had two cuts on my right hand. I hadn't had as good a day fishing as this one in a long time.

The day didn't start out promising. Dad was visiting, so I took him to a spot that was accessible, and which I expected to hold a few fish but nothing remarkable. When we got to the river, my opinion of the place was confirmed. Two guys had driven a pick-up down the sandy trail and backed the rear tires into the water. They sat on lawn chairs in the bed, drinking from a case of Keystone Light and sharing the use of one surf rod while country music blasted out of the speakers. We headed upstream.

Dad stopped at a pool, and I went up to the start of the slow water, just below a short, but quick set of riffles. Another angler appeared in the brush behind me. We chatted and he, after asking if I'd mind, took up a spot halfway between me and Dad. Before he had a line in the water. I took two little smallies and a bluegill on nightcrawlers.

I was efficient with the nightcrawlers, pulling fish out regularly, with nothing going over eight or nine inches. Then I saw some kids in swimming trunks fishing their way upstream. They waded through Dad's pool, bungling along fishlessly and their leader reached me. We had a chat about river etiquette. I don't know if it took, but it was worth the breath. They were high schoolers new to fishing, and I don't think they knew any better (if they had, they wouldn't have been so friendly about invading my space). Later one of them was stuck 15-20 feet above the water trying to situate a rope swing.

After catching a few more fish (and adding the first river chub of the day, on what I hoped was a bass to teach them a lesson), I walked down to Dad. He'd only taken one bluegill, so we headed downstream, to a spot I knew where the water pooled just off from a weedbed, near some algae (the type I always referred to as "sea weed" as a kid, and which I still can't identify). Then things got interesting.

I continued getting hits on nearly every cast, but the size of the fish increased. I waded out as far as the algae would allow, to allow my casts to reach close to the far bank, under the shade, assuming that the fish, like me, would be wanting someplace cooler in the 90 degree day. I wasn't wrong, and when the sun lowered enough to extend the shadows out to the middle of the stream, the fish really turned on.

I pulled two surprising fish out of the river. First, a largemouth I was sight-fishing for. Not a big one, he simply surprised me by being there. I know now it's not uncommon, but I didn't realize the largemouths were in this river. The next one I caught a flash of after I set the hook, and thought it was a chub, except for it strong fight. When I got a second look at it, I realized it was a cat, and I quickly landed my first ever channel catfish, only about 12 inches, but still a treat.

Things kept getting better. I took one largemouth and one smallmouth that were 14 inches or more. The first I led quickly through the open water around the algae, but the second burrowed into the stuff, and I had to maneuver him out, and then nearly missed netting him in the thigh-deep water. After that, the 10-12 inchers were plentiful. The sun dropped lower, a goose arrived, and the fishing slowed.

Dad, on the other hand, had an okay day, but nothing like what I had, and there seemed to be one key difference in our approaches. He used the traditional pre-snelled Eagle Claw hooks, and I was using Matzuo red-colored baitholder hooks pre-snelled on fluorocarbon leader. I had become convinced that the thickness of typical snelled leaders was too big, and was costing me fish, but this was my first time putting the theory to the test. The Matzuo didn't hold the nightcrawlers as well, but the fish seemed less shy of the leader. I even took one bluegill while reeling in an empty hook.

When the fishing's that good, it's usually hard to leave the water, but today I just felt like I had received so much more than expected that I was content to leave. We hiked back to the car, sand filling our shoes. My hand was bleeding from where a smallie had finned me, and I had another cut I couldn't remember getting. When we reached home, I took off my boots and realized they had made their last trip. They'd given me 15 years, and while I'm sad to see them go, at least they'd gone out as part of an incredible trip.