Evening wade on a lovely little river

Near Salt Creek, 9pm

I'm a little obsessed with Salt Creek.

After my awesome wade Monday night, catching 11 green sunfish and catching a glimpse of a BIG fish, all I can think about is what lurks beneath the surface of that little unassuming creek. Until Monday, I assumed it was too polluted to support anything besides green sunfish and carp, at least in the section closest to me. Turns out, I was wrong!

I waded twice yesterday- a very short trip at lunch, and a longer trip right around sunset. At lunch I didn't catch anything, but got some hits from something and follows from a little largemouth bass. I saw tons of baitfish swimming around, little brown minnows all over the place.

Somewhere I read Salt Creek should actually be called a river, but for some reason the creek name stuck... I also read the original inhabitants of the area called it the Lovely Little River.

Although it's moving water, and in many ways just a smaller Fox or Rogue river, there are a few strange things that make it different. It's clearly not the healthiest river; for long stretches it's bordered on both sides by industry and overly-fertilized residential land. I don't know much about ecology or hydrology, but the Salt certainly has a different character than other rivers I've fished. There is a distinct lack of boulders and current breaks, although I could be missing seeing them due to the low water levels.

Probably the strangest thing is the weird step-like dropoffs from the shore to the main channel. Instead of tapering down nicely, there are steps that lead down to the deepest sections. That means if I'm not paying attention, I might walk off one of those ledges and drop a foot into a deeper section. That almost happened last night and it scared the $%#& out of me! I wonder if it's related to erosion or some human-influenced characteristic.

I explored a new section last night, and was rewarded with some very fishy spots. A short wade upstream brought me to an awesome looking area with a downed tree blocking off the majority of the stream. The main current cut through a five foot hole close to shore, then created one of the few current seams I've seen on the Salt. On the shore side, there were little eddies in about a foot of water- I bet that will be a sweet spot in higher water. The downstream side of the tree is much deeper water, and absolutely a spot that holds fish. There were some branches in the water, near some very tall undercut banks, all of which was underneath a bunch of low hanging trees. As I waded toward it I saw at least three fish porpoise, one jumped clear out of the water. It was big, although it could have been anything. In the dim dusk light I couldn't make it out.

I waded quickly, hoping to explore as much as possible before all the daylight went away. I'd like to say I threw my little white spinnerbait into all the best fish-holding spots, but in reality I just threw it everywhere. Some places I expected to find fish I didn't, and where I didn't I got hits.

When I finally connected with a fish- on my new light rod- I was ecstatic. I wondered if there was a little pike on the end of my line, my first pike ever. Turns out it was a little largemouth- a moving water largemouth, a fish I don't know well. This one fought like a little monster, like a smallie. All muscle, all spunk. I didn't mind that it was small, it was a great fish to me, caught so close to home in this seemingly hidden spot.

Another Salt Creek bass

A little farther upstream I got another one. This was awesome! If I pretended I didn't hear the the car traffic noise from a quarter mile away, and I blocked out the sounds of low-flying aircraft going to O'Hare, I might as well have been a hundred miles away in the wilderness. Wading, catching fish as the sun went down.

My spinner got hung up, and somehow I didn't have any more safety-pin style spinners with me. I tied on one of my homemade inline spinners, then a beetle spin, then just a straight up jig'n'twister. Although I didn't connect with any more fish, the wade was great.

The local wildlife was everywhere. I saw a big raccoon waddle away from me; I tried to pass quickly so it could go about its business. When I came around a bend in the river, two deer were standing in the river a stone's throw from me. They noticed me and casually trotted away. When it was almost dark, I noticed a tall figure in the middle of the river upstream from me. I squinted and realized it was a heron, or some kind of bird just like a heron. I was standing chest-deep in water, and this bird was towering over me (albiet far away). It must have been five feet tall.

I watched it, both of us standing motionless, until all of the sudden it flew away.

In one stretch with a muddy bottom, I spooked what I think was a carp in 6" of water. I thought about how great it would be to hook into a carp in this stream.

Eventually it was time to head in, as the use of my headlamp was necessary to see. I thought about the coyotes I'd heard coming from this particular area a few nights back, and decided to call it a night. After a slightly tense walk through very tall grass, I made it to a path and headed back to my car. But I'd be back to find out what else this little river holds.

Skunked, skunked, and skunked again

In an effort to take advantage of the amazing temperatures we were having, I've been fishing like a madman. Unfortunately, I don't have much to show for it in terms of fish caught. Reading reports on Windy City Fishing leads me to believe I might be the only one not catching huge numbers of fish! Alas, I figure the more I fish, the better I'll get, and eventually I'll be able to land many fish per outing.

On the other hand, because I seem to get skunked so often, it's incredibly exciting for me to land even one fish! I'm still very new to fishing, and I still get a huge thrill landing even the dinkiest baby of a fish.

Since I haven't been catching much, I decided to condense all my recent trips into one post. Here goes...

WEDNESDAY 3-21-2012 - The Pond

the pond at night

I decided to try night fishing the pond, I wondered if the higher-than-normal daytime temperatures might entice a bite out of the bass there. I read some reports of other fisherman having nighttime success, so I headed out to the pond. Long story short, nada. It was a great time, a very nice air temperature, and it was very relaxing to cast in the dark. There were a few splashes near me, but the bass weren't interested.

Every now and then I heard a very strange sound, and I listened carefully to figure out what it was. Eventually I realized it was a bug zapper at a house across the pond. ZAP! ZAPZAPZAP! Some bugs were meeting their maker.

I also heard (and saw glimpses of) bats flying around the pond, probably enjoying a feast of newly hatched bugs. I definitely appreciated their handiwork, since I wasn't being bothered by any bugs whatsoever. It's very cool to hear bats chirping as they fly through the darkness; as they flew around me their chirps were moved across my stereo image (it's an audio thing) which was very interesting!

THURSDAY 3-22-2012 - Salt Creek

Three herons (I think)

The next day I had some time on my way home from work, and I decided to check out a new stretch of Salt Creek. The creek runs north to south near my house; I think Busse was created by damming it up. The creek flows from Busse down through a variety of industrial and residential areas, before eventually meeting up with the Desplaines River (I think, I'm still mapping it in Google Earth). I saw a huge number of minnows (maybe some were tadpoles?) and found a very nice kayak/canoe launch. Will definitely have to kayak from here sometime.

Stood on the bank for about an hour, throwing a variety of lures with no takers. Up closer to Busse, the creek definitely seems like a creek.. But down here, it is a little wider, and seems like a small river. I'm sure there are game fish in this stretch, just have to figure out how to catch them...

FRIDAY 3-23-2012 - Busse Lake


Had some time after work, so I headed to Busse for about an hour. On my way I stopped at Dick's to pick up some stuff, including a red craw-pattern rat-L-trap, which has been killing it in the area on bass.

Second cast, I hook the craw on a rock, and somehow manage to break my braided line. What the hell, Busse!? Well that's $5 I'll never get back. I need to figure out how to make rat L traps.

There were two guys fishing right on the dam on the main pool side; I couldn't quite figure out what they were going for. It looked like they were casting right into the pool under the small dam, but they didn't seem to be catching anything. I wondered if any fish were gathering under the dam.

the north pool dam at Busse

Saw another guy shore fishing in one of my favorite spots, and he was getting bite after bite on a worm/salamander/creature softbait. It was great to see someone getting action at Busse! He managed to catch at least one when I was there.

After a while I had to go, but I'd be back... I wanted in on the action.

SATURDAY 3-24-2012 - Busse Lake

it was foggy

I've been eager to get the kayak out since January. Finally the time had come! Friday night I loaded up the kayak on my car, went to Dick's and got some supplies for my fishing vest. I used the vest wading for steelhead in Michigan a couple weeks ago (or was it last weekend?) but I just put my lures loose in the pockets. That resulted in a few small holes in the pockets, and a few larger holes in my hands. Apparently people use small tackle boxes in the pockets. Who knew!?

So I put together an assortment of lures in a few small tackle boxes, filling my fishing vest with everything I'd need. I had a soft plastics tackle box with tubes, worms, creatures, bullet weights, and hooks; I had a jig box with twister tails, grubs, and jigs of all sizes; then I had a crankbait box with a selection of my favorite crankbaits, including some handmade ones from Mike Muston of Flushing, Michigan, Their action is incredible!

Got up extra early saturday morning, ate some oatmeal, drank some (not enough) coffee, and set out in the dark... for Busse Lake. Why did I choose Busse, where I've been skunked so many times before? Reading reports, it seemed many people have been KILLING it at Busse. I wanted in on the action! I still have never caught a bass in the kayak.

I drove to Busse, noticing that all the entrances were closed except the one I wanted to enter- the Higgins road entrance near 290. I arrived just about at sunrise, and there were already about 15 cars parked inside the preserve. Wow, I guess I wasn't the only one trying to get out today. I quickly unloaded the kayak, parked my car, and was in the water in about 10 minutes.

I caught this deep diving crankbait
on a texas-rigged plastic worm

The fog was incredible- the air temperature was rather cold, but the water was warm. I think that situation will cause fog every time- but I don't really know science. It was great fun paddling through the dense fog, only being able to see a little bit in front of me. It was like a tylenol commercial for baby boomers. Not sure why I thought that...

I worked the shoreline with a variety of lures, nothing. I trolled a crankbait, nothing. I worked the channel near the boat launch, some shallow areas that seemed like nice spawning grounds, and even some downed timber where that guy had success the night before, and nothing. I did however manage to catch a new lure, looks like a deep diving crankbait. Nice! I've found so many nice pieces of gear at Busse, it lessens the blow of the almost expected skunk. It was a great outing in terms of kayaking, but alas I went home without any fish pictures.

SATURDAY - part 2 - Salt Creek


I decided to head back to Salt Creek again, this time with my waders. I got there about an hour before sunset, and was really hoping for some bites. I put my waders on, threw on my fishing vest (which by the way is an awesome way to carry tackle! So convenient, and I can travel lighter. No big tackle box needed... Just grab what I need from my pockets. I love it!)

I stepped into the water, and that's when the problems started. First of all, the water was extremely muddy, flowing quickly, and filled with big rocks. I didn't have my wading staff. As I attempted to enter the water, every move was stopped by a huge rock I couldn't seem to get around. Finally, I was able to get around the rock, but then suddenly discovered there was a two foot dropoff just on the other side! I almost ended up swimming in the creek instead of wading. I tried to find some other spot to enter, but nothing. All along the banks it seemed the creek got very deep, very quickly. There seemed to be no easy way to enter the water.

I tried hiking up a path, looking for another entrance. I found a bridge which looked promising. I was about to step in the water, when it occurred to me I'd better check the depth. I stuck my rod in the water, tip down, to get a sense of the depth. Almost the whole rod went in the water- vertically- and it was clear that this spot had a four foot dropoff. Not a good idea to step in!

Discouraged, I fished a bit from the bridge. Scanning the water, trying to remember everything I've read about river fishing, I tried to make sense of what I saw. Which ones were riffles, which ones were pools? I found an area where the water flowed in a circle, and the current seemed much weaker. It was also under some bushes. Sure enough, when I cast my jig n twister, I got some bites! Unfortunately I couldn't get anybody to commit, and once again ended up leaving empty handed so to speak.

This guy grabbed my lure and shoved it into his mouth
Then he spit it out for me. Thanks frog!

I did end up hooking a frog accidentally with a white jig n twister. He grabbed it with his hand and shoved it into his mouth! I didn't know frogs did that. I tugged on the line and he quickly spat it out. I'm glad I didn't hurt him, I like frogs.

It's always great to get out, and I like exploring new areas, even if I'm skunked. I'll definitely have to come back here with a kayak, and see if I can find one of those elusive Salt Creek muskies.

Chris finally catches a smallie!

Finally! Yes! I finally caught a smallie!

After an enjoyable but slightly disappointing outing the day before, I decided to go on a small adventure Sunday. What may be normal outings for regular people always seem to be big productions for me, probably because I have so little experience with the outdoors. This would not be an exception!

4am woke up, coffee, oatmeal, packed the car, google mapped my destination, and I was on the road at 4:30. My destination was supposedly 40 minutes away, on the Fox River in Batavia (I think). I strapped on my brand-new L.L. Bean waterproof medum-cut hiking boots, put on my camo hat; I felt like a real outdoorsman now. I was ready. 

There seemed to be some nature preserves or parks or something on the river there, and it looked like some easy access to the water. It was early and nobody was on the road, and I drove very fast. 

I made use of the "scan" button on the radio, and enjoyed some awesome Barry White, some kind of annoying bachata, and a whole lot of club house music. It seemed to be broadcast live, I wondered if somewhere in Chicago at some club there were still drunk people bumping and grinding to the music I was listening to. For them it was still Saturday night, but for me it was fishing-trip-Sunday. I thought about how the music was pumping them up to get down and party, while it was pumping me up to hunt for smallies.

I made it to the preserve in about 25 minutes. I was met with a barrier, the park was closed. I got out of the car and investigated- there were 2 padlocks on the gate. I thought for a minute, my coffee not entirely working yet. I went back to the car and looked at google maps- there was another park to the south. I got back on the road, driving slow so I wouldn't miss it, and found the entrance. No gate on this park- I was in.

I slowly drove around, trying to make sense of what I could see in my headlights- it was pitch black, and there were no lights. I looked at satellite images on my phone to figure out where to park close to a path that lead to water. I saw a possum casually cross the parking lot and return to the darkness.

I parked, turned off the radio, turned off the lights, and shut off the car. And then there was nothing. It was completely black, silent, and cold. I was going to go outside and wander around in this? Was I crazy?

Apparently, yes. I didn't drive all this way to NOT have an adventure, to NOT catch any fish, and NOT find any smallies. This was character-building, I told myself. I got out of the car.

Headlamp on high, my gear on my back, a flashlight in one hand and two rods in the other, I set out into the darkness.

hiking in the dark

As I walked, I passed a few non-paved paths that seemed to lead toward the water, but to be honest I was a little apprehensive about hiking down narrow deer paths in the dark in a place I'd never been. I have almost no experience hiking, and even with the headlamp and flashlight, I still could barely see 20 feet in front of me. I kept to the paved bike path, hoping it would lead me to water.

After about 45 long minutes wandering in the darkness, I finally got to the water- an observation deck high above the water- no way I could fish from here! I needed to be ON the water. It was a great view, but it wouldn't work. I was discouraged. I was wasting precious fishing time bushwhacking through the forest.

I decided to brave the narrow dirt path and go deep into the forest (well, it's not that deep- but in the dark it seems pretty infinite). Seems like it could swallow you up whole. I knew there was a major expressway a mile away, and a densely populated area all around me, but from inside the dark forest I might as well have been in the Amazon, or the Boundary Waters, or some other place I'd never heard of.

A few times I found myself going in circles- I should have brought my compass. I saw a sign that had a picture of various animal footprints you might see on the path: Squirrel, deer, possum, coyote, bobcat... BOBCAT!!? COYOTE!!?? Oh jeez.

I pretended I never read the sign and continued walking. On the positive side, my new fancy L.L. Bean hiking boots were perfectly executing their job. At times the trail was a 45° angle, and the very grippy treads on my feet easily grabbed the earth and pushed me along.

Finally I reached a small path that lead to some kind of utility building. There was a lot of noise coming from the building, as if there were some kind of machine or pump inside. The trail seemed to slope down to the water, so I turned and began walking that way. In a few short moments the forest opened up, and I was greeted with the sight of water and shoreline. The shore was rocky, and the river actually had current- not like my Fox river trip two weeks back. Maybe this would be a good spot.

Early morning on the Fox

I put down my backpack, and cast into the moving water, trying to remember all the important things about river fishing. What the heck were riffles? How do I find pools? It was early, I struggled to dig up the information from my exhausted brain. I tied on a 4" yum grub with a tail on a fluorescent yellow jighead. Everybody seemed to be having great luck catching smallies on similar rigs.

Best. Lure. Ever.

I got hung up on a branch. I managed to get it free, and immediately got stuck on my next cast. Ok, so this is how today is going to be? I couldn't get it free. I suddenly remembered something I read on the windycityfishing.com forums... the "bow" technique for unsticking lures: reel in the line so it's tight, and pull the line near the reel as if you're preparing to shoot a bow and arrow. When you let go, the line springs back, hopefully springing the lure back as well, unhooking it. Didn't work. Ok, I tried again.

Bingo! My lure easily came off, and I reeled in. What a great trick! I cast again, aiming for what I think is called a seam- a line between two different currents on the top of the water...? I am a complete newbie to river fishing.

And then.. BAM! Fish on! Just like that! Third cast.

Could this be a smallie? Probably not, it was only my third cast, it was probably some crappie or something. It fought pretty hard though... Wow.. Could it be? The smallie that I've been desperate to catch all year, been complaining about nonstop in my blog and to anyone who'll listen, could it be on the end of my line?

It was.

After a short but magnificent fight, out of the water I pulled the most beautiful, amazing, incredible smallmouth bass. It was small, but to me it was a trophy. I wanted to put it on the wall.

My first smallie! (of 2011)

I literally jumped up and down, and shouted with joy. I know serious, manly fishermen might read this- anglers who might think nothing of catching a 10-12" smallie, and would certainly never giggle and jump for joy- but I don't care. I was so incredibly happy. Catching this prize of a fish made the hour of aimless pitch-dark hiking worth it.

I held the fish and thanked it profusely. It wasn't a huge fish, the fight wasn't even the best fight I'd ever experienced; but this was a fish I'd been trying to catch for months, and I had finally accomplished my goal. I took about 30 pictures in quick succession, trying to ensure I got a thorough record of this oh-so-important catch.

I walked back to the shore to release it. Thanking what had been such an elusive fish for me to find and catch, I carefully returned it to the water. It swam away immediately in a large explosion of water.

Oh man, if I left right now I'd be completely satisfied.

I cast again to the same spot, and didn't find another smallie there. For the next half hour I fan casted the area, casting both upstream and downstream, and perpendicular to the shore. I got hung up every other cast, and lost about every third jighead I tied on. The bow technique prevented me from losing all of them. Although this was the spot where I finally caught a smallie, I decided to move farther upstream since I wasn't getting any fish here.

Backpack on my back, rods in my had, I carefully crept through the trees. I wanted to stay close to the river, and there was no path. I crouched down to avoid low hanging trees and spiderwebs, carefully stepped to avoid falling into the river, and climbed over a variety of huge fallen trees. This was some real outdoorsy #$&! for me.

I made it to a little point in the river, which was very rocky and seemed to continue deeper into the river. I'd read this is the type of place one might find smallies. I looked at the river, completely perplexed by what I was seeing; I didn't really understand what all the different currents and lines and ripples and riffles mean. I didn't even know if that is what they are called. I've pretty much fished on lakes- that smallie back there was my first moving-current fish, ever!

I saw a small pile of brush and branches about 10 feet from shore that was displacing the water around it. I wondered if a fish could hide behind the branches, saving some energy and waiting to ambush prey. I cast slightly upstream of the spot, and a combination of my reeling and current brought the lure right into the spot.

And then BAM! Fish on, again! I was pretty sure this was a smallie.

This one fought like a champ! As soon as it realized it was hooked, it seemed to swim everywhere at once... then, like a cold war era missile launched from some hidden silo in New Mexico, it erupted from the water in a cloud of splashes, flying at least a foot clear of the water. Amazing! These fish are powerful!

It swam upstream, downstream, deeper, higher in the water column, I struggled to keep it coming toward me and away from branches. I was determined to land my second smallie. This was amazing.

I pulled it out of the water, removed the hook, and admired it. This was a nicer fish than the previous one, maybe 13-14", and a veritable warrior. Even while I held it with my thumb, it repeatedly bit my finger, and continued to shake and squirm. What a fish. I took more pictures, and returned it to the water.

Smallie #2

Casting back to the same spot, I became immediately tangled. Using the bow trick, I got untangled, recast, and got tangled again. I remembered somebody saying "If you're not losing lures, you're not fishing," I must have really been fishing.

Lost a few more jigs and grubs, but every time I have to tie on another lure, I get better and faster. At this rate I'll be an expert real soon.

After some time without any fish, I decided to continue moving upstream. I saw a variety of birds hanging out farther north, it looked like they were standing in the river even though they appeared to be in deep water in the middle of the river. I guessed there was some very shallow water, and there might be some of those pools I'd heard about near there. Then again maybe that's not what pools are- I definitely need to make myself a river vocabulary list, with definitions and using each word in a sentence. Just like spelling class in elementary school, only this time about catching fish. "Riffle. R-i-f-f-l-e. Riffle. Some kind of water in a river that holds fish. Riffle."

I hiked through the forest, crouching under trees, watching out for spiderwebs, almost tripping every other step. I wondered if this is how a fox or cougar must feel- slowly creeping through the brush, hoping to get the upper hand on its quarry. They would certainly be more stealthy than I was. This is the closest I've come to hunting; hunting fish. Of course today I wasn't hunting to eat, the way all other predators did.

Reaching another rocky shoreline, I found the shallow rocks the lead out to the middle of the river. The water looked only about 6" deep, and the current wasn't too fast. I stood on the shore, looked down at my new waterproof medium-cut hiking shoes, and back to the water. Should I risk it? What if I tripped and fell, soaking my iphone, somewhere in its memory were the pictures of my first smallie? Or worse, what if I became swallowed up in the current?

these boots are awesome

Throwing caution to the wind, I slowly and carefully stepped out into the river. Surprisingly, my feet remained completely dry. As I made my way beyond the trees and into the river proper, my boots skillfully gripped the rocks and continued to resist the water. Awesome.

I found myself about 30' into the river, something I only thought was possible with waders. I scanned the water, and all around me were interesting looking changes in current, but of course I didn't know what they were called. Some places where the water went in circles, some places where it quickly rushed over submerged rocks, some other places where it moved slowly and was darker. I was pretty confident those were called "pools."

Casting into a pool, I was again immediately hung up on something, some rocks probably. Using my new fishing rod archery trick, I released my jig, brought it back to me, and recast into what I was pretty sure was called a pool.

BAM! Fish on! This was another fighter, a fish that wouldn't come in easily. It burst from the water 3 or 4 times, its tail still wiggling back and forth trying to swim through the air. This fish was getting some serious air time, almost floating above the water before it came crashing down.

Fortunately, I kept tension on my line and was able to land it. I grabbed it with my thumb, it bit me, and I got out my phone to take some pictures. Smallie #3.

smallie #4

This was an amazing trip. Not only had I successfully located and landed my first smallie (well, of 2011), but it was my first moving current fish, and I was catching more! It wasn't the high numbers of 50-70 fish landed that I'd been reading about from much more advanced anglers, but I was incredibly happy to be consistently catching fish.

A guy in an awesome looking long blue kayak was fishing, slowly paddling down the river. He said he caught a few small smallies (I think that's what he said) and I told him about my few fish. I don't think I hid my excitement very well, even though I said I was catching smallish smallies.

Standing almost in the middle of the river, surrounded by trees just beginning to change color, geese and ducks and herons flying all around me, the sound of gurgling water, three smallmouth bass on my iphone-photo-library-stringer, this was bliss. The outdoors is wonderful. I wondered if this was the appeal of trout stream fishing; standing out in the river, engulfed by nature, catching powerful little fish.

And then I caught another one! There were some splashes near the shore, which I assumed were more smallies. I cast downstream, parallel to the shore, and reeled back in. The amazing swimming action of these grubs was enough to entice my fourth and final fish of the day. I fished some more, continuing my fish-catching hike through the woods, but there were no more fish for me. I saw some guys in waders farther up the river. At one point there were some shouts; it sounded like one of them hooked into a monster, but it threw the hook. I heard him say something about the seam. I need to learn this vocabulary.

On my way out of the woods, a man and a little kid armed with rods and bobbers were heading in. They asked me about river access- they seemed as lost as I had been earlier. I told them to follow the path- which wasn't much of a path- about the stream that emptied into the river, and the rocky areas where I'd caught the smallies. The man's eyes lit up when I said that. They continued into the forest, and I walked toward the car. I hoped they would get into some fish.

I loaded my backpack and rods in the trunk, thoroughly satisfied with my Sunday morning. First smallie, first river fish (Ogden slip doesn't really have current, so I'm not counting that), and for the first time due to my awesome new footwear, I felt I could go anywhere. I stood in the middle of a river and caught smallmouth bass. Just awesome. I couldn't wait to post about this to my WCF comrades, specifically those who had provided so much advice on river fishing. Although I forgot all the important vocabulary, I did end up catching some smallies. Finally.

my fox river base camp for a while

Two Saturday Morning Fish

Sunrise on the lake

Couldn't decide where to go fishing saturday morning- didn't feel like any of the normal places, even the sure-thing retention pond. I always didn't feel like going too far. My lovely wife suggested a spot I'd been to but never pulled a fish out of, and it was decided. I would have my revenge!

Did my normal fishing-morning thing- woke up at 4am, coffee, clothes, packed gear, loaded gear into car, drove off into the darkness. Arrived at my [top secret] destination a short time later, put on my headlamp, and hiked into the darkness.

Got to the water, and I decided on 3 goals:

1) Don't resort to a tube jig, at least not for quite a while

2) Catch SOMETHING, ANYTHING at this lake!

3) Catch something with either my new favorite inline spinner, or a topwater lure

I clipped a green and white jitterbug to the swivel on the end of one line, and my mepps black fury to the other. It was well before sunrise- the sun wasn't supposed to rise until around 6:30am, and I was standing there fishing in the dark at 4:45am. Early bird gets the worm, right? I wondered if I should use my black jitterbug instead, since it was dark... But I figured there would be light soon enough, and anyway the green and white jitterbug wasn't too light.

Even if I'm not catching fish, there's some other appeal to getting up so early- otherwise I wouldn't do it. There's something magical about watching the world wake up; the sun slowly rise above the trees, it's rays one by one illuminating the scene; it often seems like I'm the only one awake. Even the birds weren't chirping yet- it was pretty much silent, except for the regular sound of my bail opening, line going out, a small splash in the water, a click of my bail closing, and the rhythmic sound of reeling in.

The jitterbug

I tried a few different spots- I'd studied the contour maps for this water, but access was difficult. I decided to work with what I got. After all, I was in sneakers, not exactly hiking-ready. As I walked through tall grass, the dew splashing my shirt, I could feel my feet getting wet. I need to get some serious footware. No more crocs or sneakers.

I alternated between the spinner and the jitterbug. A few times I thought I had a small hit, but it was probably just weeds. For a while I concentrated on the spinner, trying different retrieves. Wasn't happening, so I picked up my rod with the jitterbug. I cast it out, parallel to the shore, and slowly reeled it in.

I was about to pull it up out of the water and cast again, when SPLASH! 4 feet from the shore, extremely close to where I was standing, an explosion of water blew up on my lure. I saw a flash of something engulf the lure. FISH ON!

There wasn't much of a fight, as all I had to do was lift up my rod with the fish attached. I turned on my headlamp so I could see. It was a very nice-sized largemouth, with the jitterbug attached to its lip.

I got the fish over land, and got out my pliers to remove the lure. Treble hooks are kind of nasty- so difficult to get out. The good part is you don't need a hookset; the fish usually does that for you. I had a hard time removing the hooks, but my bass friend ejected the lure with a well-timed flap of its tail.

A dinosaur of a bass

I admired the fish- not only was it a great looking fish, with a fat belly and menacing looking black eyes, but it was pretty long. I held it up to my rod and estimated around 16". It was also the first fish I'd caught on a jitterbug, or a topwater lure of any kind for that matter! Also the first fish on this new-ish water. So there were fish here.

I snapped some pics, and continued admiring the fish. It looked like a dinosaur. It's scales seemed more pronounced than other fish. Not exactly mountable, but monster-ish.

Put the fish back in the water, as gently as I could without filling up my sneakers with water, and excitedly cast the jitterbug back out there, hoping for more action. Turns out, that was it for that lake that morning.

Tried a few different spots, threw big white spinnerbait, green tube, crankbait, and nothing. After about an hour an a half after catching the bass, I was honestly a little bored. I was admiring the scenery though; lots of geese, saw some herons in the distance, there was beautiful fog covering most of the lake, the dew over all the foliage was so perfectly placed it seemed like somebody took a kid's jewel-gluing kit to the tall grass. But there were no fish interested in my offerings, so I decided to head out.

second and last fish of the day

I hit up my faithful retention pond on the way home, and for the first time ever, the bite was OFF! It has always been a sure thing to hook into something there, usually within the first few casts. Today there was nothing. I didn't even see all the little bluegill near the pipe. About 30 casts in, and not even a bump. The other day they demolished my mepps, today they must have been sleeping in.

Eventually, I saw schools of baitfish being terrorized by bass. At one point the bass was close enough to the surface I could see the whole fish, calmly swimming the pond, like a slow-flying guided missile. It was pretty awesome, I'd never seen any bass hunting in person.

I managed to land one fish, a relatively good-sized largemouth. I was hungry, and a little bored, so I once again decided to hit the road. As always, it was great getting out and seeing the sights, even without massive numbers of fish. As I drove back home, I started to plan my next fishing adventure.... I had smallmouth bass in my sights.

Fog on the lake, pre-sunrise

Holloway Reservoir, Michigan

This will be the third consecutive year my family has gone on a Labor Day weekend fishing trip, a new tradition that came from my sudden obsession with fishing. My dad grew up fishing, but didn't do it much as an adult. Our fishing trips consisted of renting a pontoon boat on Lake Nepessing in Lapeer, Michigan, bringing mass quantities of snacks and beverages, and generally having a great time.

This year one of our family friends and angler extraordinaire Mike Muston invited my dad and me out on his boat for some morning fishing. I'd been salivating over his facebook pictures of beautiful trout, plentiful bass, and amazing looking walleye. Although I catch fish fairly regularly, there are gaping holes in my "species scoreboard," like smallies, walleye, and pike. Mike had been having good luck with walleye at Holloway Reservoir near Flint, so we planned the trip.

The day before, on Saturday, the family took a trip to Gander Mountain for gear and fishing licenses. This was one of the first times I'd gone to a store for fishing gear and had a really clear idea of what I was going to get. Tubes, of course, in a few more colors and sizes; a crankbait or two, I had only caught one fish (a bluegill) on a crankbait; some senko-style worms; some more fake minnows (I'd had lots of luck for bass - and gobies- with them); and some salmon spoons! I grabbed a basket and quickly proceeded to fill it up with goodies. As I put a 3/4oz moonshine glow spoon into the basket, I wondered if this was the lure that would catch me my first salmon. Or if I would lose it on my first cast.

5:30am, Holloway Reservoir

The next day, I woke up at 4am (which of course is 3am central time, but I tried not to think about that), got some coffee and donuts at Tim Horton's, and returned home. Mike was picking us up at 5am sharp, and I didn't want to keep him waiting! It was generous of him to take us along fishing with him, and even more generous to pick us up. I hoped he liked donuts!

My dad and I hopped in his truck, and set off on our pitch-black journey. It was so freaking dark. I guess it makes sense- Chicago is so close to the time change, that 5:30am in Chicago is really not too different from 4:30am eastern time; I'd been waking up at 4am central time, and it was basically light by 5:45... But not today!

Mike unloaded the boat into the water, my dad and I helping the best we could (I'm not very experienced getting normal boats into and out of the water). Headlamps on, spotlight shining, we set off into the dark. As we were headed toward a good spot at a point across the lake, the spotlight illuminated hundreds of seagulls (?) that proceeded to fly away. It was a very erie sight, seeing so many birds fly silently in the dark.

We got to the point, and began casting crankbaits, texas rigged worms, and tube jigs. Nothing was interested. Mike made me the trolling motor pilot, as I was at the front of the boat where the motor was. It was one of those cool foot-controlled ones, where the pedal controls direction and a little button runs the motor. After almost jerking myself into the water multiple times, I mostly got the hang of it. We went in circles a little, but hey this was my first time.

Then it started to rain. When we got to the boat launch, it was lightly spitting, but nothing serious. After a few minutes of unsuccessful casting, it started to rain in earnest. A while later there was enough light we could see the rain, and it was getting everything wet. Hey, it's a marine sport. There's water involved.

We decided to move, and I did my best to troll us around the point to the other side of the little peninsula. I proceeded to get my senko stuck on a branch close to shore, but Mike's agile unhooking skills saved it. At one point later on, I somehow got my line tangled up in the trolling motor, but again it got unhooked. Not my finest hour for line issues!

At this point it was raining pretty good, but I remembered the saying "It doesn't rain on fish, only fishermen." I wondered if the clouds and rain would work in our favor, perhaps keeping our walleye friends active longer into the morning. I've read that rain often washes bugs into the water, which are eaten by baitfish, which bring predators closer to shore. So this could be good!

The rain wasn't helping the donuts though, the box was thoroughly soaked. Somehow the donuts inside were mostly dry, and still completely edible.

Mike decided to get to trolling some lures for walleye, so he set up some planer boards. I'd only trolled like this once, and didn't completely grasp the idea. At least we weren't using downriggers, those things are downright confusing. With 2 crankbaits on planer boards, and each of our rods in the water, we had 5 lines in the water. Mike mentioned we could technically have 9 in the water, as the law in MI is 3 per person. It's good we didn't have 9 in the water; I would have definitely tangled them all!

Dive-bombing fish-catching machine bird

As we were slowly trolling across the lake, we saw a bird flying- almost hovering- high above the water. Without warning, it dropped from the sky like a ballistic missile, and sped down to the earth... It hit the water with a huge splash. A second or two later (seemed longer) it emerged, splashes everywhere, a fish in it's talons. A fish! The bird triumphantly ascended back into the sky, holding it's prize. We watched it fly back to the treeline- maybe a nest.

We looked at each other. That was amazing! I'd never seen ANYTHING like that, except maybe on the discovery channel. Even then, it's hard to imagine it's real. I've been admiring birds in my posts, but this bird took the prize for most amazing catch. It was seriously like  some kind of weapon honing in on a fish so many feet below. A fish UNDER the water.

I guess if your life depends on catching fish, you either get really good at it, or you die.

At least somebody was catching fish! We alternated between slow trolling and casting toward the shore. There were a lot of fishy spots, but the fish didn't know they were supposed to be there.

At one point, we were trolling and Mike was slowing down the boat so we could cast. There was a splash, I looked at the planer board- "FISH ON!" I yelled.

And it was! Mike reeled in his line, and at the other end was a very feisty smallie. Although I would have loved to hook into one myself, I was elated that Mike landed one, and as a boat of fishermen we beat the skunk.

Mike and the first fish of the day

That was only the second fish I'd ever seen taken on a crankbait (the first one was that bluegill at Ogden slip a few weeks ago); this was also the first fish I'd seen caught while trolling. It's really helpful for me- until I see a fish being caught on a lure, part of me doesn't believe it can be done. I used to be that way with spinnerbaits- what the heck are they supposed to look like!!?? - but I've caught my fair share of bass with those guys. A little later Mike caught another bass, this time a largemouth, also on a crankbait. It was another little guy, and he said the first largemouth he'd caught at Holloway. 

2nd - and last- fish of the day

We were trolling again, and my dad suddenly jumped and started moving his rod- he had a fish on! His rod tip bent almost 90°, this looked like a BIG fish! His drag screamed in agony as something huge pulled relentlessly. Mike jumped up as well, I reached for the net. He reeled and reeled, trying to fight the monster on the end of the line, and suddenly, the tension was gone.

My dad reeled in, the drag no longer complaining... The fish was gone! When the line came back to the boat, it had been cut clean off. Damn! And it took his fancy lure too!

Although it sucked to loose a fish like that - which Mike was sure was a big'ol' walleye - it was great to get some more excitement. For about the next half hour we lamented the loss of our prized fish, especially knowing our wives wouldn't believe how big it was.

That was almost the last action of the day- we hit a variety of good-looking spots, trolling and casting; everything from wacky-rigged senkos to spinners to cranks to jigs, but all we got were a few more lost lures. One particularly fishy-looking inlet was being guarded by a large heron. I'd seen many herons recently, but none of them squawked and complained like this one! It cackled loudly, telling us to get away from its spot, but naturally we did not oblige. Didn't matter anyway, we didn't catch any fish.

Coming out of the inlet, Mike hooked into a nice fish. He reeled in, and a foot from the boat it threw the hook and quickly vanished into the deep. It must have been at least 12-14 feet long, a huge beast of a fish, probably a muskie-alligator gar-bluegill hybrid*. But since we didn't get a picture, we can't prove or disprove what it was.

Glancing at our time various phones and watches, we realized it was time to head in. We didn't want angry wives. Slightly defeated, walleye-less, without a picture of a smallie caught on my tube jig, we headed back to the boat launch.

It wasn't bad- to the contrary, it was an awesome fishing trip: we saw an amazing fishing bird, a belligerent heron, a healthy looking smallie, and the first LMB of Holloway. It's always great to fish with other fishermen and learn. There's only so much you can get from the internet and message boards. Or blogs.

But if you can't make it out, might as well read about it!

* It definitely was not a muskie-alligator gar-bluegill hyrbrid. It was a good-sized bass.

Frustrating morning at Busse

Waking up, my last fishing outing a complete bust, I was determined to prove my angling ability and catch some fish. I ate some cap'n crunch (he's a captain, right? couldn't hurt) drank some coffee, packed my gear, sprayed down with bug spray, and was off.

I got to Busse at 5:52am expecting to wait in line for the park ranger to open the gate, but to my surprise the gate was open. I headed in, seemingly the only car int he place. I made a beeline for the boat launch, and quickly unloaded, moved my car to a non-trailer parking space, and was in the water in 10 short minutes. The water was COVERED with geese, I mean every square yard of lake had a goose on it! It was pretty crazy.

As I was unloading, two pickups with small boats arrived and began their own unloading process. I talked fishing with one of the guys, who was clearly after some fish- he said he was going to be fishing for bass. From our conversation I wasn't sure if he fished Busse often, so I told him where I'd been catching bass and what I had been using.

I slid into the water, and the geese complained and grumbled like old guys who hadn't had their coffee yet. Or like me before my coffee. I was already around the bend, line in the water, before the other boats had even launched. It would be great to have a bass boat, but for now, I'm pretty satisfied with my quick-unloading and quick-launching S.S. Silent But Deadly.

I started working some downed timber just east of the boat launch with nightcrawlers and tubes. The second boat, a husband and wife, slowly made their way around the bend. I knew there *should* be fish in this wood, I just hoped the fish knew that.

Sure enough, it didn't take long to get a nice-looking but small bluegill in the boat. Hooray, I beat the skunk! I am a real fisherman after all! Hey, it's just a tiny gill, but a tiny gill at Busse is better than no fish on the Fox.

Not 50 yards from me, I hear a splash, and see that the man in the boat has a fish on. A nice big fish. He pulls it toward the boat, his wife gets the camera ready, and I hear him say "walleye." Walleye!!??? What!!?? The elusive walleye, one of the many species I've never caught, and this guy gets one RIGHT where I was JUST fishing, on his first cast there!!?? At BUSSE!!???!!??

I congratulate him, and ask him what he was using- he says a jointed rapala. I don't have one like that, so I bust out a shallow-diving crankbait, and cast in the area he caught the eye. (He and his wife had moved on by this point, so I wasn't fishing right where he was!)

After many hangups and treble hooks full of weeds, I decided to move on. I paddle accross the lake to some more sunken trees. I catch a few more little bluegill. I read a DNR report the other day about the numbers of bluegill in Busse; there are TONS of them, but very few are over 8" - which is the minimum size. The DNR people theorized that most people fishing for bluegill keep any over 8" and that accounts for the lack of larger bluegill. Seems fair to speculate that many bluegill under 8" are also kept.

At this point, I don't feel redeemed as a fisherman... Sure I can catch tiny bluegill, and yes it's great to catch fish, in a kayak no less, but let's get into some bigger fish please. I work my way along the shoreline, slowly paddling toward the Higgins Road bridge. I know it's deep in the middle there, and have heard recent reports of walleye being caught there. I lusted after some walleye. I was so jealous of that guy and his wife and their walleye.

I stop behind an island where the water is still and there are lots of weeds. This is exactly the kind of place where I caught some nice bluegill and those perch last weekend. I proceeded to catch more tiny bluegill. I did find a pretty awesome new lure though- a Hedon Torpedo, which will be nice addition to my tackle box, once I figure out how to fish it.

There were lots of birds in these trees

I fish the Higgins bridge channel for a while, throwing crankbaits, tubes, senkos, nightcrawlers, and nothing. Nothing except for more hangups. At this point I'm seriously frustrated. The wind was also picking me, making it more difficult to stay in one place in the yak. I know that's part of the whole kayak-fishing deal, but it was still frustrating.

I need to catch a nice fish. Even a nice sized bluegill, just something to redeem myself after the skunk-fest I had yesterday. I paddle over to the north dam, a place I've had a lot of luck this year.

Biggest landed fish of the AM...

Catching a few bluegill in the weeds, I hear a little kid talking non-stop across the bay. Looks like his dad is on the point, fishing for carp or catfish, getting his ear talked off. I think about how annoying that must be, he's trying to concentrate and catch some fish, but his kid is going on and on... I also think how nice it is he took his son fishing, and how much the son must love it to be talking this much. Fishing isn't just about catching fish, I tell myself, it's about the experience, and nature, and relaxation, and bonding... But seriously, the kid was talking a lot. I wondered if I eventually have a little kid and take him fishing, how I would deal with the rambling. But hey, he's just a kid! It's great he's so into it. Just because I'm super frustrated doesn't mean the kid isn't having a great time fishing!

Working my way around the shore, catching a few small bluegill, I head closer to the dam. The kid sees me, and heads toward me. With a nightcrawler, hoping for a fair-sized gill, I cast toward the shore. The kid casts about 3 feet to the left of my line. It's ok, he doesn't know any better... 

and then WHAM! Fish on! Something came up and engulfed my worm, and was now going crazy! This was a bigger fish than I'd been catching. I caught a glimpse near the surface, it was a largemouth. Hooray! Fish on!!

After a short fight, I worked him over to the kayak. Using my very bad estimation skills, I guessed he was about 12-14" long, and relatively chunky. A nice bass for anywhere, but especially Busse where skunk rules supreme! Awesome. This was great, I was going to land my first bass in the kayak, take a great picture, it would be my new facebook profile pic, I could share it all on the blog, and then PLOP.

He unhooked himself and swam back into the deep.

A foot from the kayak.

@&%$*@!!! Are you KIDDING me!!? In all my fishing inexperience, I haven't lost too many fish I've hooked- I like to think I'm pretty good at landing them once I've got'em... But this was a dark hour for me. It was hard to keep the tension as he was swimming toward the kayak, and it was a powerful tail movement that set him free. If only he had known I was going to set him free anyway! Maybe he would have obliged a quick photo.

I shouted (not profanity, mind you) and looked at the kid, who watched the whole thing. "Did you see that!!??" I asked. "yeah," he said. "Where did you get him?" I told him, and he immediately cast right there, about 10 feet in front of me.

As I was dealing with my intense grief of loosing such a nice fish, playing it over in my head, thinking what a great picture that would have made, that's when he started talking.

Again, I totally understand he's just a kid, and it's cool he's so into fishing (it's actually very cool), and I appreciate completely his desire to catch a big fish like the one I just lost... But at that moment, it was difficult for me to think of those things. All I could think of was the skunk fest I was deep into, and the very nice fish that I unintentionally released.

I answered his questions as calmly as I could, and tried my best to continue fishing and avoid crossing lines with the kid. I wanted that bass back. Real bad. I was on a mission- I didn't want to move, there was a big bass under the water somewhere right around here! The kid moved closer and closer to the kayak, until he was casting 3 feet away from the boat. I wondered how I could explain to him fishing etiquette, and how fishing right where somebody was isn't the best thing to do... But I didn't want to diminish his excitement for fishing by giving him a bunch of rules, so I didn't say anything.

A duck

After about a half hour, I wasn't going to catch my lost bass. I lost a few lures and hooks on the rocks and tree branches, and was getting more and more frustrated. I felt the way I used to feel on every fishing trip last summer, inept and inexperienced, unable to keep my line untangled, unable to keep a lure on for more then 3 or 4 casts. As much as I appreciated the kid's enthusiasm, I had to get out of there. I bid him farewell, and headed up the shoreline to another spot I knew to sometimes hold bass.

Turns out, that would be my one and only bass hookup for the day. I wondered if it "counted" to just hook into a beast, but I kept thinking "if there's no picture, it doesn't count." Then I thought, "if there's no picture, I can make it as big as I want!" That made me feel a little better. But seriously, blog reader, it was definitely at least 13", I promise. Or maybe it was closer to 22", about 4 pounds, probably more like that. It might have been a muskie. Yup, that's what it was.

On my way back to the boat launch, saw what looked like a white crappie floating at the top of the water. I got closer, and it looked alive. I picked it up, and righted it in the water. I moved it through the water to get some water through its gills, and it seemed to revive. Awesome! It swam down a little, but then quickly floated back to the top on its side. I felt bad, I wanted to help, but it seemed pretty messed up.

I paddled back, and found another lure- this one looked really cool and seemed like a deep-diving crankbait, which I didn't have yet. Cool! As I made my way, I thought of the day, and really was happy I at least caught some fish. And almost caught a monster bass. It wasn't so bad- I was outside, on the lake, in a kayak, on a beautiful day, enjoying the scenery and getting exercise, and was about to head home to my lovely wife and awesome dog. Not bad! Can't really complain.

Except about the one that got away, I could certainly complain about that, and unfortunately, my wife would have to listen to it.

I caught this hog this spring, t not far from where I lost the bass today...
I'll just assume the one I lost was at least as big

Skunked on the Fox

Walter hanging out on the Fox

PART I

Conditions:

72°F

Wind: none

Pressure: 29.86" and steady

Clouds: few

I'd read some great things about the Fox River and the vast population of smallies that lived there, and recently seen some posts about massive numbers of close-to-shore smallies that were being easily caught. Could this be my 2011 smallmouth day!!?? According to Ken G (who has an AWESOME blog you should definitely check out by the way) THIS was the weekend to get out on the Fox and catch some smallies, specifically at sunrise or sunset.

My lovely wife decided she wanted in on the action, so we packed up the car and brought Walter with us. I'd scoped out some possible locations on Google Earth, and the most convenient one was right off of I-90, about 25 minutes from our house. There was easy access to the water, it looked promising.

Very pretty little stream

Got there around 9am, started throwing nightcrawlers under bobbers and gulp minnows on jigheads (closest thing I had to Ken G's lure recommendation). We hooked Walter up to his super long leash, and tied it to a bench. He proceeded to immedately tangle himself repeatedly, but hey, we were all fishing! It was good times.

Well, the river was extremely shallow from where we were fishing, so shallow it was hard to avoid the massive amounts of weeds that were everywhere. Looking at the water, it seemed like the deeper water started just past the distance I was able to cast. Claire got some bites up close, but nothing big. There were tons of tiny minnows everywhere, but I didn't see any bluegill or any other pan fish.

I tried a variety of spots, trying to get to deeper water - I figured by 10am any smallies in the area had retreated to deeper water, as the sun was fully out and the air (and water probably) was heating up. No luck, not a single bite. I lost a few lures in the muck, and started to get frustrated.

We decided to move up the shore to the I-90 bridge, which looked like it had seen its fair share of fishing activity. By the looks of it, I guessed catfish and carp fisherman, but I wasn't sure. I just hoped there would be some smallies around!

So many baitfish!

The only fish that were around were the most baitfish I'd ever seen, and a little dead fish that washed up on the shore. Not sure what it was, maybe a chub? A tiny tiny drum? As faithful readers of this blog know, I'm pretty horrible at fish identification.

After a series of snags, more lost lures, and pretty much no luck, we decided to pack it up and head home. By this time it was about 11am, and I figured any bass in the area would certainly not be interested by now. I vowed to return and exact my revenge on the river that skunked us!

SKUNKED ON THE FOX - PART II

so pretty!

PART II

Conditions:

87°F

Wind: very slight, from the west

Pressure: 29.87" and rising

Clouds: partly cloudy

Return I did- a few short hours later, I packed up the S.S. Silent But Deadly, my gear, and hit the toll road. I wanted to be on the water in plenty before sunset, so I could find some good spots and work them at the right time.

As I was approaching the Roselle exit on I-90, I watched in my rear-view mirror as the strap holding the back of my yak SNAPPED! Suddenly it was gone, and I could see the kayak becoming loose on my roof. Crap!

kayak strap issues, right by Medieval Times

I turned on the four-ways, and pulled off to the side. The cable had just snapped close to where I attached it to the car, but thankfully the other side of the cable was still hooked to the car. I'm not sure how it happened; I'd driven with the kayak many times recently (to the DPR, to Salt Creek, to Busse, etc) and never had any problems. Maybe the tollway was too much for it!

I unhooked the back straps and put them in the trunk. I extra-tightened the side straps and the front strap- I wasn't giving up- I was getting on the water and catching some bass, dammit!

I decided to take back roads instead of the tollway, lest more straps snap and my yak went flying. That would be detrimental to my evening kayak fishing trip for sure.

Although it took at least twice as long to get to my destination, I have to say I really enjoyed the mostly 25 mph journey. I ended driving through our old neighborhood, and passed many fishing spots from earlier in the year. There was the pond where I caught tons of tiny pumpkinseeds on a bare hook; there was Salt Creek, which was my first moving-water kayak trip (didn't make it to Bode Lake like I planned, there were some impassable rapids just west of Barrington Road, and I wasn't the "experienced porter/portager" I am today); There was Bode Lake, where I fished extensively last year, and caught my only recent good-sized smallmouth.

Herons are awesome

I took Shoe Factory Road (awesome name) which winded through a nature preserve, then changed into straight up rural-ness. It was a nice change-up- most of my fishing trips consist of driving through urban and suburban landscapes, to fish in urban or almost suburban spots. Today, I felt like I was in the country (which I kind of was), surrounded by corn, trees, and a yellow late afternoon tint, and the promise of smallies. Wearing my Cabela's camo hat, I felt less like the nerdy city-boy I am and more like the obsessed angler that I also am.

Finally, after a series of amazingly fun hills, curves, and scenery, I arrived at the river. I checked the park district sign (made sure I wouldn't get towed after sunset), parked, unloaded, and within 10 minutes I was in the water. I'm getting good at this! I'm still in love with the idea of of a small boat that I can carry myself, paddle in water less than a foot deep, and catch fish. It's just awesome. And no motor, no gas, and lots of exercise! Good for a formerly indoor-only dude like myself.

But where are the fish!?

Well, I'll cut to the chase. I got completely skunked- even though I followed herons, saw tons of baitfish, worked what I thought were promising spots, tried a variety of lures and retrieval techniques, I didn't get so much as a bite. I was out for about an hour before sunrise, and about an hour after. Close to sunrise, a small army of fishermen appeared on the banks, but they weren't catching anything either. Could it be Ken G's spot, probably much farther south on the river, was where the bass were hanging out, and they didn't make it this far north? But I didn't even catch a single bluegill. What gives!!??

The Fox at I-90, at sunset

Defeated, I returned to the shore, and packed up my yak in the almost-dark. I really enjoyed the river, it was very beautiful, and full of cool-looking spots, and island, lots of wildlife; lots of stuff that made my trip feel less like a waste. At least I saw that great stuff, got some river kayaking in, and practiced casting.

Grumbling, I drove home, vowing my revenge on the Fox. It bested me TWICE in one day; it didn't help that everyone else seemed to be catching boatfulls of fish this week, and I couldn't manage one. I decided to go fishing again in the morning- on a different body of water- to reaffirm my fishing skills. But know this, Fox River, you're on notice! I'll be back, and you won't skunk me again!

Skunked! But some very nice views

Chris Beckstrom: Suburban kayak adventurer

my adventure- distance paddled: 5 miles. distance portaged: 1/2 mile

I'm pretty fascinated with the idea that so many bodies of water are connected, and it's possible to travel between them in a boat or something (or if you're a fish, just swimming). It's pretty cool to think that before there were roads and expressways, the indigenous people of the area (and european "explorers") used the waterways as their transportation (and of course a major source of food!)

Busse Lake

When I discovered that our new house was a mile from Salt Creek, which connects to Busse Lake - one of my most frequented bodies of water - I immediately thought "whoa, that means I could kayak from near my house to Busse!" Just the idea of that made me excited. I can't really explain it, but traveling a distance in a kayak just excites me. I've fished Salt Creek a bunch of times, and always had great luck in numbers, if not size. Tons of bluegill, pumpkinseed, some crappie, even the smallest LMB I'd ever caught.

Of course, there's no real need to kayak up the creek to Busse- I have a car carrier for my yak, and could just as easily drive up there and launch at Busse proper... But kayaking the 3-ish miles upstream to Busse to go fishing seemed like an adventure worth having, and Sunday was the day to do it!

this awesome spider was hanging out where I launched
(the internet tells me it's a female
"garden spider," Argiope aurantia )

I woke up at 4am, drank my coffee, ate my oatmeal, grabbed my crawlers and frozen water bottles out of the fridge, sprayed down with bug spray, and hopped in my car, kayak and fishing gear loaded a few short hours ago before I went to sleep. My plan was to be on the water by 5am, and I roughly estimated I could be to Busse by 6am, just in time for sunrise and good fishing. And there is such a thing at Busse, I promise!

Reading this account, please keep in mind that in general, "the outdoors" is a completely new thing to me. Just a few short years ago, the idea of waking up before 9am if I didn't have to was incomprehensible; I couldn't stand to be in 75°F heat longer than a few minutes; I had always been an "inside kid." When my friends were outside playing, I was inside practicing saxophone or playing video games. I don't regret that at all; I still love music, computers, video games, and playing the saxophone. So this whole waking up at 4am to go kayaking is a pretty radical thing for me...

I'm either going mining or kayaking in the dark

Anyway, since I'm so new to all this, sometimes key things don't occur to me. Things like at 5am in the summer, it's dark. Of course intellectually I knew this, and the whole reason I was launching so early was predicated on this fact... But I didn't think about how I would not only launch in complete darkness, but paddle for an hour before the sun came up.

Good thing I had my LED headlamp! Best purchase ever, after the kayaks and collapsible fishing rod of course. The water level was so high I the kayak floated in the tall grass that is usually 20' from the water. I hopped in, and paddled through what is normally definitely land. About a million bugs fell on me as I made my way through the grass, something that even 3 months ago would have creeped me out so much I would have turned around right then... But not today. I brushed them off, and shortly I heard the quiet gurgling sound that meant I was in open water, in the creek proper.

It was so dark. It was 5am, the sun wasn't showing up in full force for at least an hour, and the many trees lining the banks blocked whatever light there was in the sky- so it was very dark. My LED headlamp illuminated just enough in front of me I could avoid logs and branches, but not a lot more. This was a surreal experience, paddling in basically complete darkness, surrounded by buzzing insects, knowing there was a myriad of wildlife on all sides, but not being able to see any of it. Illinois law says any water craft must have the appropriate lights to legally be on the water in darkness, but since it didn't occur to me it would be so dark, I didn't equip my kayak with lights.

As I paddled, I tried best I could to keep to the middle of the creek, avoiding blocked areas, and trying not to get too close to the shore on either side (the bugs really intensified a few feet from the bank). I looked around with my headlamp, and I was surprised to see many pair of eyes reflecting back at me. Honestly, I didn't know that was a real thing! I thought it was just in disney cartoons animals in the jungle watched from the dark- but nope, it was real. I was as anxious about it as I was curious.

At one point a pair of eyes near the top of a tree was clearly watching me. I couldn't tell what it was, maybe a raccoon? A possum? To big to be a squirrel. I stopped paddling. The animal came down the tree a little bit, and looked back at me. We stared each other down, trying to figure out what we were looking at. The animal came closer; it was as interested in me as I was in it. It was too dark to really see what it was, but I enjoyed my animal-nature-bonding moment.

something tells me they know where the fish are

Back to paddling, I started to see more detail in my surroundings. Although I knew from satellite pictures there were residential and commercial areas on all sides of the creek, from where I was sitting I could have been in upstate New York, or the Everglades, or some remote creek in Montana or Canada somewhere. There was so much wildlife! I heard the quacking of ducks, who seemed to be swimming the same route I was paddling, only a few yards in front of me. I saw the silhouettes of many many heron in the trees; a few times my presence startled them and I was delighted to hear the sound of their wings beating the air only a short distance above my head. A few fish jumped all around me. This is what is so great about kayaking- since paddling is very quiet, you can get extremely close to wildlife before they realize you're there.

The sun was higher in the sky, and I noticed fog all around me, my headlamp turning everything white. The fog was rising from the water, something I'd often seen early in the morning, but I'd never been in it's midst when it was happening! This was great. This was exactly what I wanted to experience.

on the great salt creek

I passed under some bridges, counting them to get an idea how far a distance I had to my destination. I'd been studying the map and satellite photos, and I figured by this point I was more than half way. The water level was so high, on one bridge I had to recline in the kayak to avoid hitting my head.

Planes flew overhead, the ducks maintained their distance in front of me, and I seemed to be following a bunch of herons, who were doing what I would soon be doing- looking for fish. Fog rose all around me, bugs buzzed, the sound of my paddling was so soothing I didn't even notice how much my arms were burning until I stopped to drink some water and coffee. This was by far the farthest I'd ever paddled all at once, and I'd never paddled continuously for so long. If I stopped paddling, I would start to go downstream, away from Busse, so I had to keep paddling!

Finally I got to the Arlington Heights Road bridge, which was the dividing line between the residential area and Busse woods. I made it! Part of me wasn't sure I'd be able to make the almost 3 mile journey in the kayak, against the current, but I made it. There was a pool just inside the preserve that was my first fishing stop.

arlington heights road bridge, the dividing line between the world and Busse, my destination

Once I got into Busse, the current went away, and I could calmly float as I prepared my rods. I started with a 1 oz. white spinnerbait, hoping to entice some of the fish jumping around me to hop into my kayak for a quick hello and a picture. I'd never caught a bass in the kayak, I really hoped this would be the day. I put a crawler on a 1/16oz jig with a bobber, and wet that line as well.

A few minutes later a fisherman emerged from the forest, rods and bucket in hand. I think I surprised him; I was only about 10' from the shore, and he didn't notice me until I said "hello." He said he was fishing for carp and catfish, and he'd caught some pretty big ones in this pool. I wished him luck, and he followed the shoreline to his spot.

After a half hour, I didn't even get any nibbles. It was time to move on, so I bid my fishing friend farewell and paddled north. The water came back to a creek's width for a bit before it met with Busse's south dam, and that was where I planned on portaging to get to the main pool.

As soon as I rounded the bend, I saw a huge fallen tree blocking the entire creek. It was creating a small rapids, and making what I thought was going to be a smooth paddle very difficult. I adjusted my rod holders so my rods were horizontal - to avoid hangups on the tree - and prepared to navigate through the obstruction. Let's do it!

Well, it wasn't going to happen. Not only was the current extremely strong - flowing in the wrong direction, but there were branches everywhere, scraping my neck and dropping spiders on me. I could barely get the paddle out of the water before it hit branch after branch. I scanned the banks for a possible portaging route, and that wasn't going to happen either- the high water level had changed the grassy area into a marsh, where I would certainly sink into the earth, unable to get to the main pool. My only real choice at this point was to go back to the pool and portage through the forest, reconnecting with the creek past the obstruction.

the great portage of salt creek

On land, I could see a path leading north, that I hoped would curve west again and meet the creek. I grabbed some rope from my tackle box, and tied it to the front of my yak. With my new knot-tying chops, I tied a few butterfly knots, which are great for making handles if you have to pull something... like a kayak.

I'm glad there was a trail

The ground was still wet from yesterday's rain, and so was the grass. This made it possible to pull my boat instead of carry it, which was pretty nice. I made my way through the forest, following a muddy path which I hoped would lead me to water sooner than later. As I pulled my yak, I was really glad I didn't bring an anchor, which would have made it even heavier. I felt like an explorer, portaging around an undiscovered stream through an unknown forest, not knowing what I would find on the other side. Obviously people had been here before me, but it was true I didn't know what would be on the other side.

What was on the other side was a parking lot. I knew this lot was quite a bit west from the creek, and even farther south from the main pool. I decided I'd better follow the bike path instead of trekking through the forest- I was wearing shorts, and can't yet identify poison ivy and stuff...

I dragged my yak along the wet grass until I got to the bike path that goes over the south dam (where Busse spills back into Salt Creek). Many bicyclists passed me, many of them looked perplexed by what I was doing... As they should have been! I got the kayak over the bike path, down the rocks, and back into the forest. I had fished this spot before, I knew the water was very close and there wasn't a steep dropoff- perfect place to launch.

herons know what's up with fishing

Got the yak in the water, pushed past the tall plants growing out the marshy area, and I was on the water! To my left was the south dam, where many families seemed to be having a great time fishing; to my right was a fishing wall, lined every foot with a fisherman; in front of me, on the other side of the lake, was a shoreline lined with fallen timber and weeds. I saw a heron perched on a tree very close to the water, and in the blink of an eye it's knife-life beak went into the water and pulled out a fish.

I don't have a fish-finder on my kayak, so I have to rely on other clues to find fish. I study depth maps like a crazy person, I take careful note of weedlines and what look like dropoffs from the surface, and I always watch the birds. The birds are fishing too, and they usually have a better idea where the fish are than I do- so I go where they are. 

sorry I stole your spot dude

I got to the spot where the heron was (it flew away- like most fisherman, herons aren't fans of b**** fishing - when another fisherman fishes in your spot). I dropped a line in the water, hoping the fish didn't notice my paddling and were still in the area.

Sure enough, a few minutes later I pulled out the first fish of the day!

thanks mr. fish, you made it all worth it!

I can't express how happy I was to have gotten this dink fish in the boat! I was so incredibly happy, not only to break my 3-4 day skunk, but to have made it to my destination, and successfully caught a fish. Small as it was, this was a trophy fish to me. I thanked it profusely, and was glad it seemed fine when I carefully placed it back in the water. This fish did me a tremendous favor, and I was eternally grateful. I have often gotten the skunk at Busse, and catching a fish there at all is a big feat- but especially today!

I continued to catch fish on my 1/16oz chartreuse jig and nightcrawler, rigged without a bobber. The fish were hanging out just past the weedline, toward the bottom. The heron had unintentionally tipped me off to a great spot! I hoped the bird had found another and could get enough to eat. I think you're supposed to tip your fishing guide- if it had still been around, I definitely would have tossed it a fish to say "thanks."

Each fish I caught was bigger than the last, I was slayin'em at Busse! After the bite died down in that spot, I moved north along the coast to find some more fish. I found a good looking spot, where there was a nice change from weeds to open water, a large dropoff, and there were a bunch of ducks eating. Thanks to the birds, again, I began catching fish. Some more bluegill/pumpkinseed, again I was incredibly elated. At this point I decided to rename my kayak the S.S. Silent But Deadly, for her silent fish-hunting ability.

Then I hooked into a fish that seemed to be bigger than the others, and had a very different fight. To my astonishment, I pulled out this awesome fish:

perch! at busse!

At first I thought walleye. I'd never caught a walleye, and I thought they look kind of like this... But the eyes were wrong, and the teeth weren't right... A perch!!?? At Busse!!?? I'd never heard of anyone catching perch at busse; I thought perch were only found in deeper, bigger lakes, and of course Lake Michigan. Who knew!!? Not me.

I snapped some pictures and quickly re-cast to the same area, just along the bottom at the dropoff. I knew perch usually hung out in schools, so if there's one I might be able to catch more. I did!

The school of perch must have been a class of two, because that's all I caught. I decided to move on, working my way up the coast. Wasn't getting any action, although I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I had come a long way, had caught fish, and the day was still young. After hitting some nice-looking spots (and seeing one of my heron friends again) I decided to move toward the south pool/main pool dam where I'd caught some nice bass in the past. Actually that's where I'd caught my largest bass ever, at night, on a black spinnerbait.

The sun was up in full force, not much wind, not many clouds, and I tried to think where I would be if I were a fish. Well first of all, I'd be in the shade. I headed to a promising spot- sunken wood, weeds, shade, and I cast.

what a pretty fish

more perch

Fish on! This was turning out to be a great day fishing. I caught some more gills, and pulled out another perch. What!?? How is it after all the times I'd fished Busse, I'd never caught a perch, and now I was catching a bunch of them? Maybe they prefer to be as far from shore fisherman as possible, maybe they know how tasty they are.

As morning turned to early afternoon, the bite died down. I worked some more spots, to no avail. The fish were taking a siesta in either deep or in the shade, and I got the hint that maybe I should do the same. My lovely wife agreed to come pick me up, as I wasn't mentally prepared to do the reverse portage and long paddle back to my car. I headed toward the boat launch, completely satisfied with my suburban kayak angling adventure, happy that I made it in one piece, caught a new species (for me, on that lake), and all-in-all had an incredibly great morning.

next time I'll be sure to tip my guide with a nice juicy bluegill