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.

Rough Day

I’ve rarely been in the outdoors and just felt ready to come home. There must be times I no longer remember, when I was frozen or wet or just worn down. There’s one hike gone bad, and there’s the time I dropped my rifle in the snow. That’s about it.

But yesterday was a rough one. When I saw the forecast for high winds and a cold front moving in, I probably should have stayed home (especially considering it had been a night of rocky, newborn-era sleep), but I was anxious to see if the smallmouth were active yet, and to test out the new bass taper fly line I’d just gotten. So as soon as I had the baby back to sleep, I grabbed my gear and was off.

The first problem became obvious quickly. The trail had suffered from the harsh winter, and what had once been an annoyingly brushy hike had now become one full of fallen trees, lost paths, and the like. Upon reaching the river, I discovered the second problem: the river was higher than I had anticipated (so much my ability to read USGS reports), just enough so that some of my wading routes would be cut off. It’s a tricky wade even in August, and as it would turn out, it would be especially problematic now.

The first stretch I wanted to fish requires a reasonably deep wade out to a sandbar. The bass hangout in the deeper area just beyond that. Yesterday I had to go in nearly to my sternum to get there. I had promised myself a wading staff this year, but haven’t gotten around to it. Once on the bar, I was alright, but then the wind picked up.

Mostly it was the kind of wind where you just direct your false cast a little offline, keep the flies away from your head, and work with it. At times, though, it was bad enough I had to just stand and wait for a gap to cast between. I did manage a couple bluegills (one being the first fish proudly caught on a self-tied popper) before deciding to head downstream.

I just couldn’t wade it. Unwilling to give up, I climbed the bank and started on what might have been a trail. At points it turned into a game trail, then disappeared. Through wood and then through water, I got to where I was going. And found a creepy gray spider in my hair. Shortly after the wind would blow enough that my hat wouldn’t stay on, so it went into my pocket, got drenched, and made the return trip that much more itch-inducing.

I did land my first smallie of the year, a feisty little guy who gave me one good jump and a couple short runs. I took a few more bream. On my way out, I encounted a four-foot watersnake (dark enough I briefly thought, “Cottonmouth?”) and watched a channel cat eat a carp that had died and bloated.

By now I was tired from fighting brush, wind, current and sleeplessness. I was daunted by the prospect of my return journey. The going back was no easier, as I had to work to find ways up and down the bank, and at one pointed wondered if I should hold rod and chest pack aloft and sidestroke for it (I didn’t dwell on the idea). Eventually I reached the sandbar. And couldn’t quite leave without catching one more ‘gill.

Walking out, I noticed some fish near shore, inaccessible to a fly cast without more work than I had left in me. I directed a father-and-son combo to head that way. Finally nearing my car, someone asked me where I’d been and how I’d done. Then he explained that they’re building a trail on the far side of the river that can get you most of the way to where I was going.

Now I know for next time.

New Looks at an Old Site

There's a park in town I've fished a few times, and I haven't made up my mind what I think of it. I've never been skunked, and I did have one of the best outings of my life there last summer. Other than that day, though, I've never really done great. I usually manage a handful of fish, none too big.

But I go there because it's accessible and fits my schedule, and because I know that great outings are possible. The only downside is that the hike on the trail is like walking on the beach, which is a little annoying.

I was there a few weeks ago with pretty good luck, catching a few bass, losing a decent one, and getting into some big 'gills. The highlight of the trip was seeing a bald eagle, something I've only done once or twice before. The big bird even landed on a tree branch for a few seconds so I could get a good look.

More recently, I headed back when I had a short window. I took a chub and a little smallie on 2 of my first 5 casts with a floating minnow lure, so I thought the day would be a busy one. Then it cooled. I watched a 2-foot longnose gar twice look at and refuse my bait, and then I spooked a largemouth.

Heading out of the water was the key, though. I decided to try to find a way through the woods to a paved trail, which would save me plenty of time fishing this spot. I saw some people who'd been picking plants heading through the trees, so I chased after them, and discovered they were using a trail. I went up the trail and discovered...a cricket game? I've seen some strange things in the wild, but people playing cricket might be the oddest.

I backtracked, followed an alternate path, and came out at a parking lot. Even better than just coming out at the trail. I took the paved road back to where I'd parked and decided to try downstream. To my great joy, there was a path I'd never seen (more like a clearing, really) that led to a nice pool downstream. I fished that pool, and the calm water just downstream from it and took maybe a dozen or so fish, including largemouths, bluegill, and even a crappie. I didn't have time to explore further downstream, but it looks like there's some good water that way, too.

There was even one moment of excitement in there, when something huge struck my minnow. I never got a good hookset, but I saw a flash of fish, seemingly too long to be smallie, but to thick to be a musky or a gar. With the visible vertical markings, I suspect it was an unusually big smallmouth. Which means I'll be back.

Sometimes fishing is about getting away from it, but sometimes you just don't have time for that, and I'm happy to find a place that's manageable with only a couple hours free.

A Bully Saves the Day

I've been slacking with the posts lately, but I should have some more writing time freed up, so let's get back to it.

About a month or so ago, I took the fly rod out after some bass. Working my way far downstream, I passed four other anglers. None of them admitted to catching a fish, which was a little troubling, and my day started off slowly. I was looking for a big bass and was sticking mostly to the bottom. I didn't have a single hit.

Finally, I figured it was time to just catch some 'gills, and hope the bass might show up. I tied on a small popper with a new fly I'd been meaning to try out, Bully's Bluegill Spider. I don't know if if was the fly switch of the sun suddenly coming out, but the hits started. I took a number of fair-sized panfish, mostly on the spider.

Finally, a bass hit. He wasn't a monster, but he was 12 or 13 inches. I hung on through three jumps, and then he burrowed deep. I saw him angle for a boulder and I tried to lead him past it. No luck. I felt the line stick, but could feel a slight throb. The line was snagged on the boulder, but the fish was still on. I've caught fish like this before. I plucked the line, and when that didn't work, I waded out to him. I saw him come loose just before I reached him.

That was my only bass encounter of the day, but I did see a pretty large smallie take a swipe at bluegill I was bringing in. That happened at least once last summer, only a hundred yards or so from this spot. I've got to start throwing some of those bluegill patterns...

Anyway, I couldn't complain. The fishing died completely after maybe an hour, but I had kept plenty busy on a day when no one else seemed to be doing anything. I was optimistic about tying into some bass over 15 inches on that outing, but changing expectations and plans made for a fun day even without the big ones.

If you're interested in the Bully's Bluegill Spider pattern, I recommend (again) Bluegill Fly Fishing and Flies by the Wilsons. You'll get a good pattern, pics, and the story behind the fly, as well as tons of great info on bluegill fly fishing in general.

Even the Stupid Days Are Fine

I had a few hours to get out on Sunday, so I thought I'd take my newish 5wt to a local park (more on this place in a future post) and spend the time catching some bluegill. The park isn't very productive, but there are a few holes that are reliable for panfish, with the occasional smallmouth thrown in, too. The real benefit to the place is that it's a very short drive, and there's a paved trail that runs next to the river for over a mile.

I got into the spot that I expected to be most productive -- actually the only spot on the river I'm truly optimistic about. I make a few casts, and the sky darkens, the wind picks up, and I hear thunder. "It's trucks on the highway," I tell myself. I try to convince myself, but I'm not buying it. The problem is that I'm heading off on a wade that has little in the way of extrication options, and if a storm's coming, I don't want to get caught in waist-high water far from an access point.

I climb out, and check out the sky one last time to convince myself, it's really, truly, a storm coming. I start walking back to the car. After about half a mile. The sun comes out, the wind dies down, and the thunder stops.

At this point, I have to choose between re-tracing my steps or just jumping in the river at the next good spot. Given that I'm only out for a relaxing day, I don't bother re-tracing my steps. Which means, of course, that I only manage to catch one bluegill all day. And fall directly onto my knees on some rocks.

I also manage to somehow foul up my dropper rig, leading me just to nip off one fly and stick with Bully's Bluegill Spider (more on this in a later post, too). At one point, I can't lift my line off the water to cast. Puzzled, I discover I've hooked a long length of monofilament. In my effort to pull it in, I discovered one end is tied to a beer bottle. I leave it. I usually pack out other people's trash, but I'm not sure what I can do with 30 feet of mono and a beer bottle, and I'm also not entirely convinced it isn't some sort of bait trap or something (and I have no idea how far the line extends in the other direction.

I'm about to head to the car, and I decide to take a few casts right by the parking lot. It looks like a bit of a dud, but sometimes you catch fish that other people pass up because they're too obvious. Nothing at all.

The high point of the day: some swimmers just down from this final spot call to me and point out some deer crossing the river upstream from me. They're both big, and the one in front is a buck with an impressive rack, probably 8 or 10 points (it's just a little too far to count).

I head back to the car. I run into a guy with a canoe, and it turns out he's a fly angler, too, and I enjoy our conversation. He recommends a new spot for me to try (actually, parking for a spot I'd been meaning to try), and I figure I'll hit it soon.

So, all in all, a pretty stupid day, but I still had fun.

"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...

Pay Attention

Just a quick one tonight, but more Anglenook coming soon (with pictures! with first trout! with circle hook experiments!):

About a month or so I went out to the nearest lake and took 8 or 9 fish, including some nice crappie. For once, I convinced myself to do something I'd read about but never tried, which is to switch tactics when you're catching fish (as opposed to when you're not). The idea is that you might be on to something good, but that could be causing you to miss out on the best (yes, there are some theological implications here -- I'll save that for another forum).

So I was catching them on topwater. I knew that at that time of year, under those conditions, I could do that. I had done it last year, and I was doing it right then. So I started switching, trying different lures and different retrieves. I had a variety of results, but I also gathered some information for future use.

The following weekend I had just a couple hours, but I zipped out to a pond about 25 minutes away. Here's where I should have paid attention. When the Fish Commission notes that there's a "Kids Fishing Day" coming up, remember what day it is, and don't go to any of those locations. [That's "Pay Attention" #1.]

Having wasted about 50 minutes in a car, I finally got to somewhere I could fish. I stepped out of the car, and half the sole on one of my shoes peeled off. I'm not especially hard on clothes, gear, etc., but this is the third pair of shoes I've ruined while fishing in less than 12 months. Since I was stuck with clopping around the lake, of course it was crowded.

And of course, the fishing was slow. I tried to duplicate the previous week's action but only caught a few. It doesn't meant the day was a waste. I always talk to other anglers I see, partly because I'm friendly (usually) and partly because I'm curious. While there's a stereotype of the tight-lipped fisher hiding his holes and tactics, that's rarely the reality. Most people are more than willing to share their tricks, maybe because they're kind or maybe because they like to show off, or maybe it's just neighborly.

[Note: I'm a little bit tight-lipped.]

I talked briefly with a guy on my way in, and we crossed paths later, so he squatted down next to me and went over some of his gear. He's been catching some big bass, and he let me in on some access points to the local river that he's had good action at. Totally unnecessary to share, but very much appreciated. That info + Google Maps = more fish. [There's "Pay Attention" #2 for you.]

Of course, maybe it's just me. I've been told that there's something about my face that encourages people to open up to me, so maybe I should be a teacher or a preacher or a counselor. I suspect it's more that when I'm on the water, I sometimes carry a vague expression of incompetence. Throw in a funny-looking hat and a half-broken pair of shoes and I'm practically a charity case. When the guy using the surf rod for 5-lb bass looks at my little ultralight*, how can there not be a lesson to follow.


*It's a new one; a review of L.L. Bean's hot new combo coming soon, too.

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.

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...

The Double Skunk

I did something two weeks ago that I haven't done in years, if ever. I got skunked on two consecutive days.

The first day I worked hard. I was trying out a new stream in the SNP, heading into Whiteoak Canyon. I tried various flies and tactics, all with no luck. I might have had two hits all day, and didn't spot any fish. The stream was pretty low and it was still early in the year so I'm not taking too much offense.

The end of the hike was worth it, though. I knew there were a couple falls, but I was unprepared for just how magnificent they were. I hiked up about even with the top of the upper falls, finally shedding the clothes that the 40-degree start the morning necessitated. I sat up top for a while, decided that was a good cap to the day and that I'd hike out without stopping to fish.

I didn't make it, of course. I had to stop at this one pool that looks so perfect. One little bump on a nymph (maybe). Then someone's dogs waded into my pool. It had still been a splendid day.

The next day was less intense. It was 80 degrees and I had an hour or two free so I zipped out to the lake hoping to find some pre-spawn crappie, or maybe some gill. Nothing at all. The boat launch area was absolutely covered in bank fisherman, so I drove around to the other side, to where I'd caught fish pretty much all season long.

Not so much as a hit today. I'd have liked to have fished some bait this time of year, preferably hung under a bobber, but I didn't have time to go get any and was just outside to be outside.

I can't say I enjoyed getting double-skunked, but neither day was that bad. What it really means is that I *have* to catch fish this weekend, and I'm heading to a spot I'm not sure about how optimistic I should be. We'll see...

Jack Ellis -- The Sunfishes

The Sunfishes: A Fly Fishing Journey of Discovery by Jack Ellis

My review

rating: 2 of 5 stars
The strength of Ellis's book is also its failing. Rather than focus on technique, flies, etc. (which he does well), he essentially constructs an argument for a particular approach to fishing, and the approach just isn't that appealing.

Ellis is a fly and trout snob. When he's forced to learn warmwater fishing, it doesn't breakdown his elitism, it just gives him one more thing to be elitist about. A fair bit of the time he's actually self-effacing, but when he mocks his snobbishness, there's no hint of regret that it's there. He's critical of boats, bass fisherman, plastic worms (which, oddly, he uses to find fish and then rationalizes -- I'll throw a live worm, but I won't apologize for it).

It is interesting to see someone developing an approach, and 15 years ago this might have been novel stuff. Oddly, he shifts focus from panfish (a word he loathes) to bass, which are technically sunfish, but not the focus for most of the book, nor what most people would expect.

Also, and this is minor gripe that just got to me because it happens twice, I'm pretty sure that a spotted bass isn't a type of smallmouth. Each are distinct species, and while a spot has a smaller mouth than a largemouth, that doesn't make it a type of smallmouth.

Recommendation: read the Wilsons' book on bluegill first, and if you're really hungry for more, then come to this one.


View all my reviews.

A Semi-Perfect Day

A few weeks ago, I went out for what might be my last warmwater fishing outing of the year. I headed again to the lake, and I can't tell if I had a good trip or a disappointing one.

Here's the thing: this time of year, I don't expect to catch many fish. What I was hoping to get into was some really big bluegill. They fatten up this time of year, and some of my biggest sunfish have come in Octobers past. So I was only hoping to catch one or two fish, but of a quality sort. My day turned out a little differently.

I went to my favorite spot, and before long a massive 'gill hit just a few feet out from the bank. It easily would have been my biggest of the year, but (as my grammar gives away) the fish came off. I was fishing a tiny crankbait, and those little hooks are prone to pulling out.

No big deal, especially when a little while later, I started seeing bass strike at my lure. They wanted an exact angle and depth of retrieve, and when I could replicate that path, I'd get a strike. Finally a big one hit, maybe 15 inches. He didn't fight at all and I gave him a slow pump. Then he came up and didn't even shake his head, but just gave a real slow back-and-forth motion. The lure popped out.

I was a little disheartened, but I persisted in that spot until I was convinced that nothing else was going to hit. I moved to the spillway and finished the tiny pool between the lake and the creek. Remarkably, I started getting hits on nearly every cast. I took six or seven fish, including one little bass and one chub. The rest were typical undersized sunnies.

Now, had I known before arriving that I'd catch six or seven fish, I'd have been pleased with that prospect, but to have missed the two I was after was disappointing. While the brief flurry in the pool was fun, it also meant that all my catching over the course of a couple hours happened within a span of maybe 15 minutes. Had I been able to throw those first two fish that came off into the mix, I'd have called it a perfect outing, especially for October. Instead, I'm not sure how to feel.

The good thing, at least, is that catching the chub allowed me to figure out what the silver-flashing fish I had hooked and lost earlier in the spring were. I wouldn't have thought there were chubs in that lake, so I never considered it.

Okay, how I feel: I caught fish. That never feels bad. Let's take it at that and head into fly-tying season (minus cold-weather brookie fishing as soon as the spawn's over, of course).

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.

A Tale of Two Great Expectations

Last weekend I headed out on two brief excursions with different expectations, and discovered that neither trip matched up at all. Sunday morning I headed out at down to a local lake with my 4'10" ultralight and 4-lb test, partly to test out a new panfish lure I had picked up. I didn't have expectations to catch much -- if anything -- but it's always fun to have the ultralight out, and I hadn't done so all year. Things started off slow (accept for getting to see an odd little bird -- a baby heron maybe?), but then I got into a batch of thick bluegill, and one nice crappie. I lost one large fish that burrowed into some algae, and another big one that was most likely a bass, but that I only got a quick glimpse (and was surprised to see it flash silver).



When the fishing slowed, I moved to another section of the lake that I'd had good luck on in the spring. I took a few more big bluegill. I lost one more big silver-flasher and headed back to the car, satisfied with a very fun outing.

The next morning I got up a little later to hit the river at a park that only opens at 7am. I was the first one at the river, as far as I could tell, and I was excited. The last time I had been here was the trip where I had done so well with Dad. Given that it was Memorial Day weekend, I tempered my expectations a little, figuring the fish had been pounded throughout the weekend. Still, I was hoping to catch a smallmouth in the two-pound range, maybe around 15 inches.

Everything was lazy, or at least tentative. I stuck with it, tossing nightcrawlers and hoping as the water warmed the fish might become more active. I took a few little bluegills, and then some decent chubs. I took one smallie about seven inches. I covered a reasonable amount of water, watched the sole of my shoe unpeel, tied it together, and still couldn't find fish. I went home after a couple hours for a big family breakfast.

The thing was, the fishing had been pretty similar. Day one: six or seven fish in three hours, lost a few, and went home very happy. Day two: six or seven fish in two hours, none lost, and went home disappointed. The batch of fish from the first day weighed more and struck on top, but the real difference was my expectations and my equipment. Expect nothing and take an ultralight, and you're likely to be content; expect much and take a heavier rod, and you'll have to do better not to be disappointed. I'm not saying to lower your expectations, but maybe a little after-the-fact revision of what the day was like isn't actually so bad.