Bluegill Fly Fishing & Flies by Roxanne WilsonMy review
rating: 5 of 5 stars
Essential reading for the warm water fly fisher.
View all my reviews.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Bluegill... -- Roxanne and Terry Wilson
Bluegill Fly Fishing & Flies by Roxanne Wilsonrating: 5 of 5 stars
Essential reading for the warm water fly fisher.
View all my reviews.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
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).
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).
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Dick Sternberg - Panfish
Panfish: The Complete Guide to Catching Sunfish, Crappies, White Bass and Yellow Perch by Creative Publishing internationalMy 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.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Lefty Kreh -- Fly Fishing for Bass: Smallmouth, Largemouth, and Exotics
Fly Fishing for Bass: Smallmouth, Largemouth, and Exotics by Lefty KrehMy review
rating: 4 of 5 stars
Excellent at what it is, a quick look at what you need to know to chase bass with a fly rod. It's heavy on the instruction, with spare storytelling and few wasted words. It's simple enough for a beginner (but you'll have to go elsewhere for knots and other true intro stuff), but even more experienced anglers should find useful material here, even if it's just a necessary refresher.
The book's worth at least a library grab for the last chapter alone, where Kreh talks about chasing the exotics. The peacock bass isn't that odd these days, but the New Guinea fish (black and spot-tail bass) are pretty amazing, and Kreh's depictions of his adventures with these monster fish are the book's high point.
View all my reviews.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Patrick McManus -- Kerplunk!
Kerplunk by Patrick F. McManusMy review
rating: 4 of 5 stars
At one point I might have called McManus my favorite writer. Now I remember why.
View all my reviews.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Bugs and Stuff
A few weeks ago I headed up to one of the mountain streams, mistakenly thinking that water levels would be high enough to make fishing enjoyable. I was wrong, but still had an interesting day.
First, I wandered off the path early. The trail, easily wide enough for two people to walk side by side, crosses the stream. I forgot this (despite its obviousness) and headed up a steep bank on what eventually turned into just a deer trail. I had to scramble over rocks and fallen trees and try not to slide in the mud and fall of the cliff. When I finally found my way back down to streamside, I realized quickly what had happened, as I reconnected with the main trail after it re-crossed the river. I've rarely felt so foolish while hiking.
Had I gotten into some nice fish, it might have been worth it. Instead, I only caught two fish all day, totalling about 6 inches between them. The only adult trout I saw all day came after I made a perfect cast into a little nook, saw the dry fly stop, and set the hook, hoping to feel some weight on the nymph below. The fish wasn't there, and I saw him swim for cover after my hookset.
I did manage to catch a spider at one point, which marked a first. I was leaning over a boulder, trying to flip my flies into a tiny pocket. It was an awkward angle, necessitated by the fact that a large spiderweb was blocking my casting from downstream (and was too close to the hole to risk knocking it free). Finally a cast flipped too far onto the opposite, head-high boulder and slid against the web. As I brought my line in to clean it off, I noticed that my leader had not only the web on it, but also the spider. I did not panic, but the spider was removed.
Later I also did not panic when I saw a snake drop into the water a few feet upstream from me. I calmly said "Oh baby!" and jumped onto a rock.
Walking out, I stopped and considered that it couldn't be a terrible day. It was a gorgeous place, and even if I had sweated through not only my t-shirt but also my vest without catching a fish, I didn't care.
On the way out, I got my final treat, my first sighting of a millipede, of a size that I thought only existed in the tropics. I didn't have a camera, but it looked something like this:
I didn't touch it, but I stood next to it, and it was about half the length of my wader boot.
I assume this is why we write stories: to give fruitlessness a meaning.
First, I wandered off the path early. The trail, easily wide enough for two people to walk side by side, crosses the stream. I forgot this (despite its obviousness) and headed up a steep bank on what eventually turned into just a deer trail. I had to scramble over rocks and fallen trees and try not to slide in the mud and fall of the cliff. When I finally found my way back down to streamside, I realized quickly what had happened, as I reconnected with the main trail after it re-crossed the river. I've rarely felt so foolish while hiking.
Had I gotten into some nice fish, it might have been worth it. Instead, I only caught two fish all day, totalling about 6 inches between them. The only adult trout I saw all day came after I made a perfect cast into a little nook, saw the dry fly stop, and set the hook, hoping to feel some weight on the nymph below. The fish wasn't there, and I saw him swim for cover after my hookset.
I did manage to catch a spider at one point, which marked a first. I was leaning over a boulder, trying to flip my flies into a tiny pocket. It was an awkward angle, necessitated by the fact that a large spiderweb was blocking my casting from downstream (and was too close to the hole to risk knocking it free). Finally a cast flipped too far onto the opposite, head-high boulder and slid against the web. As I brought my line in to clean it off, I noticed that my leader had not only the web on it, but also the spider. I did not panic, but the spider was removed.
Later I also did not panic when I saw a snake drop into the water a few feet upstream from me. I calmly said "Oh baby!" and jumped onto a rock.
Walking out, I stopped and considered that it couldn't be a terrible day. It was a gorgeous place, and even if I had sweated through not only my t-shirt but also my vest without catching a fish, I didn't care.
On the way out, I got my final treat, my first sighting of a millipede, of a size that I thought only existed in the tropics. I didn't have a camera, but it looked something like this:
I didn't touch it, but I stood next to it, and it was about half the length of my wader boot.
I assume this is why we write stories: to give fruitlessness a meaning.
Friday, September 5, 2008
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.
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.
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