Doug Stange, et al - Channel Catfish Fever

Channel Catfish Fever by Doug Stange


My rating: 3 of 5 stars

There's some pretty great stuff here, but some of it needs to be updated and some of it gets repetitive. The authors should have worked more anecdotes into how-to sections of the book.

The system here is pretty basic, and easily grasped. There are some interesting rigs explained, and the discussion about the longer European rods is particularly intriguing. I prefer longer fly rods (particularly for nymphing), but usually use relatively short spinning and casting rods, which I might want to re-think for certain situations.

Anyway, it's a quick read, and useful for novice cat-anglers. I've got no sense of the literature on the subject, but this seems like a reasonable place to start.

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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.

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...

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.