Big Will's Creek, Alabama

My alarm went off, shockingly waking me up. It was 4:30am. Maybe it was 5am. I was pretty sure it was Sunday, and I was in Birmingham, Alabama. It took a minute to realize what was happening, just like it always does. I was at Sam's parents' house, where'd I'd been staying since the previous Tuesday. In town for work, visiting ChartCapture HQ in Vestavia, Alabama; meeting many of my coworkers for the first time (that's what happens when you work from home) and generally having a great time.

Just like pretty much every day so far, we were going fishing. Perhaps more than the other impromptu fishing trips, this trip was going to be more of an adventure.

Sometime soon Scott and his son Alex were going to show up at the door, ready to hit the road. Sam and I quickly made coffee, gulped it down, and took stock of our fishing gear. I put some new mono line on my L.L. Bean ultralight reel, hoping I could escape the recent reel problems I'd been having. My $15 Meijer ultralight reel and the braided line I put on it were not getting along... Every few casts a bird's nest of epic proportions would spontaneously form, and my lure would splash into the shallow water, held back by the un-untie-able knots.

Scott arrived, surprisingly awake; Sam and I loaded our gear into his SUV. I strapped on my river shoes, plopped myself into the seat, and we were off. We were headed for Big Will's Creek, about an hour north of Birmingham.

I'd been surprised how quickly urban/suburban landscape of the city transitioned into rural Alabama. This was my first trip to the south, if you don't count a random trip to Georgia to get a dog when I must have been 8 or 9. I didn't know what to expect, other than a vague idea of southern culture and the idea that I needed to drink some sweet tea.

Sam and I had fished a bunch of places all around B-ham; the Cahaba River, Little Shades Creek, Big Shades Creek.. Perhaps some other ones. Unfamiliar with the geography and overwhelmed by the sheer number of rivers and streams winding their way through the appalachian foothills, it was hard to keep track. I was constantly surprised by how beautiful the landscape was in suburban Birmingham where I was staying. Not that I anticipated an ugly city, but the plentiful "mountains" (very very tall hills) and extra-green foliage everywhere made for some marvelous vistas.

Alabama mountains

These were things we saw as we made our way north/northeast toward our fishing destination. As the sun came up, fog meandered around the ever-present kudzu greenery which covered most everything in the whole area. Big bright green leaves, some kind of vine. Whole areas of hillside were blanketed with the stuff.

We stopped to get the necessities; ice, some more water, beef jerky, and another pack of beef jerky. I grabbed a little can of starbuck's something-or-other that promised multiple shots of espresso that in my early-morning state I was powerless to resist.

Soon we were close. Sam and Scott trying to get their GPS's to agree. Looking at the little purple lines and arrows, watching the blue dot bounce on Sam's phone, it was incredibly unclear quite where we were and where we were going. Our destination was Big Will's Outfitters in Gadsden, Alabama. It is not right off the expressway. It is not on a main drag. There are no bilboards for it.

We made our way up a mountain- and it really was a mountain- on a gravel and dirt road snaking around precarious-looking cliffs. Scott expertly maneuvered his SUV up the road that, to my midwestern eyes, absolutely did not seem wide enough to be two lanes. At one point a car going in the opposite direction flashed by my window and I was amazed. The whole thing was a bit like a roller coaster ride, in a good way, especially since I knew it would end in fishing instead of me throwing up into a bucket. Well, maybe both.

We passed a sign that said "Road closed ahead." I wondered if we might just fly of the mountain into the river. Wouldn't be the worst way to go, at least we might provide some structure and food for some fish.

What the sign should have said was "There used to be a real scary lookin' bridge going from one mountain to the other but that done broke and all that's left is a post-apocalyptic-lookin' pile of scrap metal perched above the river." The four of us sat there, staring at the mess of metal that was the only thing between us and our destination. Apparently.

Maybe the photogenic mist floating all around the mountains was messing with our GPS. Maybe we were just too far away from civilization. Either way, it was clear we had to retrace our steps back down the mountain. Pedal to the metal, we flew back down the thin and winding road, eventually finding the unmarked street we needed to take.

After a comedic scenic drive through the country, the ultra-green foggy mountains providing the backdrop to postcard-like farms, we caught a glimpse of a little sign. "Big Will's Outfitters" I think it said and an arrow. Might have just said "BWO." A few feet later there was a wooden paddle sticking out of the ground. Maybe it fell off the mountain and that's where it landed.

Finally, passing a couple of cows, we were there. As we passed the cows I couldn't help but simultaneously admire them and think about how good I bet they would taste. I bet they had nice lives out there in the country, free to wander around the fields, eating plants and stuff. There are probably worse ways to live as a cow, even if they end up as steak  and brisket eventually.

And then we met Josh, the proprietor of the fine paddling and fishing establishment. He was a good-natured dude who didn't mind we were quite a bit late for our paddling adventure. Josh had agreed to open up shop a little early so we could get fishing before hordes of pleasure-paddlers drifted down the river. His shop was adorned with the requisite "big fish" pictures, a few lures for sale on a couple lonely racks, and a bin full of multi-colored glasses keepers. You know, foam things that will prevent your glasses from sinking to the bottom of the river. Seems like something I should get, but I didn't. There was also a rack of t-shirts I already knew I'd be revisiting later.

We parked the car and transferred our gear to his van. A giant wooden cross rose from an otherwise empty grass field. At first I thought it was some kind of practical wooden device, serving some kind of paddling-related purpose I didn't know about, but then I realized it was just a cross. A Jesus cross. I suppose he was into fishing, from what I read.

I did manage one fish that day...
a spunky little redeye bass

Josh drove us and two canoes upstream to our put in. On the way he talked about the fish in the creek, what they liked, where to find them; he clearly knew a lot about fishing. I sure like meeting people who know a lot about fishing. It occurred to me that I was now in the south where, according to the internet, fishing was a big-time sport with big-time celebrities. There were bass fishing teams at high schools. Everybody seemed to fish. I liked it.

At our launch point we each marked our territory in the woods, rigged up our rods, and took the obligatory group photo. The creek (or river; still not sure which- I'll just call it a river) was pristine and brown. I couldn't tell if it was muddy or just off-color from clay deposits or something. I guessed it was the latter. Coolers, rods, tackle, and snacks in the boats, we set off into the river. Scott and I in the first, Sam and Alex in the second.



Immediately it was clear this was a different kind of water than I'm used to in the midwest. Like the rivers I'm used to fishing, the banks were lined with trees, rocks, foliage; the usual riparian suspects. Unlike my usual streams, there were towering kudzu-covered mountains in the distance. The river was the natural result of the valley- the water has to go somewhere. The water was cold, very refreshing after a few outings in bathtub-like water. I was sure the fish would appreciate it as well.

Looking down the river, I had to do a double-take when I saw two cows in the water. They were standing there, maybe cooling off a bit, their tails casually swatting flies away. We gave each other questioning looks, saying "What are *you* doing here?" As we approached they walked back up onto the bank and watched us float by. I'm glad they did, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to keep floating downstream. I was so enthralled I didn't even get a picture.

Scott and the first catch of the day

Scott was the first to hook up with a fish, one of the native red eye bass found only in certain areas of the southeast. Unknown to Sam and me until recently, the red eye bass is a distinct species from the other more familiar members of the black bass family (largemouth and smallmouth). It looks like a smallie, fights like a smallie, but also kind of looks like a spotted bass. They don't grow as big as their relatives, but they make up for it with their striking coloring. And their awesome red eyes.

Energized by tossing off the skunk so quickly, we got down to serious fishing. The four of us floated, fished, made adjustments with our paddles, and fished some more. Sometimes one would fish and the other would paddle, then we'd switch. The scenery was amazing, the river was awesome. The sonic landscape was just as surprising to me; not even a hint of an expressway. No cars nearby, no planes overhead, just the sound of cicadas and other bugs doing their thing in the agricultural land around us. It was a refreshing change from the usual roar of transportation-related sounds in Chicago.

Early on it was clear to me I was going to have one of those days. On of those fishing trips where everything goes wrong, where it's a struggle to cast, hard to hit the right spots, and lures are lost by the pound. The river was in no short supply of downed trees and branches. They were everywhere; whole trees lined the river, gnarly roots snaked down into the water. These all made for great fishing spots, but also lent themselves to stealing lures and snapping lines. The sometimes jagged bedrock on the river bottom didn't help either.

Scott doesn't fish rivers often, so I was doing my best impression of a river fishing guide. Putting him on the fishiest spots, those little pools near timber and rocks; suggesting he cast right next to that tree trunk, working the chigger craw in that particular way. I was overjoyed when he pulled out his first bass!

In the meantime, I felt like I was a total newbie fisherman again. Loosing lures after every few casts, my line snapping inexplicably; the trees and branches reaching out to catch my lures on otherwise nice casts... It was tough going.

The fishing was fairly tough, but everything else about the adventure was exceptional. It was great to get to know Scott a little more. We've been working together for weeks but never met in person until recently. The scenery was gorgeous. Our coolers were full of beer and sandwiches. Sam produced a flask full of whiskey from some unknown corner of his fishing vest. It was real good times.

We stopped to fish a particularly fishy-looking bend in the river. I told Scott how the outside bend in rivers is always deeper, sharing information that is fairly new to myself, as I cast like a four-year-old and lost another jig with a snap. I would have switched to crankbaits or spinners, but I left that box in the van at Sam's parents' house.

Scott's son Alex, on his way to becoming an expert angler at 13, is really into fishing. As I understand it he will sit for hours trying to coax reluctant fish from their hiding spots. Sometimes he gets frustrated, as we all certainly do, but he persists because he knows how great it is to hook into a nice fish. He has a great attitude about fishing; somehow he already knows it's as much about getting there and fishing as it is the catching.

Suddenly he got snagged, which was probably the first time that happened to him that morning. Then I heard "Dad, I think I got a catfish!"

Sam, Scott and I stopped fishing and turned toward Alex, who clearly had a fish on. A nice one. A nice big cat, go Alex! I thought. I dropped my rod and headed over to see the action- I think Sam and Scott did the same. Alex got the fish to the shallows, and we saw it wasn't a cat, but a VERY nice bass! I think Sam giggled. I most certainly did. Usually in these situations I perfume the air with my patented celebratory profanity spray, but I did my best to stifle that due to the younger ears. "Oh darn! That's big!" I might have said.

Alex got the fish up, lipped it, and the four of us stood there in awe of the GIANT monster he'd just caught.

Alex and the catch of the day- creek monster spotted bass

Well that right there makes it all worth it- to see the look on his face, holding that monster of a fish. Heck, I'm sure my face looked the same! That was an awesome fish. I seem to remember shouting a lot, congratulating him, my own fishing troubles melting away- so happy to see Alex with such a nice fish.

Naturally we all fished the heck out of that spot- I got snagged about 300 more times, which meant I got find out there was a deep whole where he caught the bass. In fact, I discovered a few deeper holes in the river. Water came up almost to my neck, but I was determined to unhook my snagged lures. I don't mind getting wet if I can learn a little something about where the fish hang out...

There were some spots downriver we worked; Scott got a few more, I got one; Sam and Alex were cleaning up over in their boat. At some point we looked at our watches and realized how tired we should be; although there were tons of fishy spots in the last mile of our trip, we mostly paddled over them. It was late afternoon, we were tired, and it was time to go.

I'll never forget the amazing scenery, the great conversation, and of course the single really nice fish from this trip; as I sit here in Illinois, part of me wants to go back to Alabama. The other part just wants to go fishing- right now.

Hello again Mr. Goby

A nice fishing spot

This is my attempt at a short post.

Fished a little bit yesterday on the lakefront. I'd read a few reports that there might be some smallie action on the lake. I've yet to catch one there, and I can't wait to the find them. They get super big in the lake!

Got some little hits on a little white jig and twister, I wondered if the goby were finally back and active after the strange winter. Turns out, there were. You may remember Mr. Goby as my sometimes nemesis and sometimes savior-from-the-skunk last year.

What can I say? A fish is a fish, and I enjoy catching them. Even gobies.

 

A little later I fished the Chicago river while waiting for my little sis to arrive via Amtrak. Got a few nips on the same twister, got a few stronger ones on a brick-colored texas-rigged chigger craw near a piling, but nobody would commit. Seemed like 20 people asked me if there were any fish in the river. I was happy to share with them the huge variety of fish you can catch there- unfortunately I couldn't demonstrate since I was skunked.

Only fished for about a half hour each time, but as always it was good to get out. With this series of thunderstorms rolling through, I'm at a loss how to approach fishing this weekend... or if I even should! Everything I've read tells me rain is good fishing, but thunder makes bad fishing for at least a day afterwards.

I'll probably just go fishing and find out.

The pond is back

The pond, an hour before sunset

As soon as I stepped off the Metra into the warm breeze, I knew I had to go fishing.

Turns out, I planned on it and had my gear in the car all ready to go. When I got to the pond I could almost feel the energy. The past few weeks it's been asleep, barely any movement or activity, not too many fish moving around.

first fish of the day

Today was different- every few minutes the surface erupted with what I can only imagine was bass chasing smaller fish. I had a black texas-rigged chigger craw tied on from yesterday, so I threw that out. Almost immediately I was getting hits- similar to yesterday, but harder. Pretty soon, I had a fish on.

Pretty much the next cast, I had another one! This one was bigger than the last. These fish were on their game today- they fought like champs, splashing water everywhere. I bounced and dragged the crayfish look-alike along the bottom, and when I paused it for a moment, that's when they attacked. They were so aggressive at one point I noticed a fish bit off one of the little legs!

I moved around the pond, trying different spots, and got hits in all of them. I found fish all over the place; close to shore, in the middle, at the surface, and at the bottom. Dragonflies were everywhere, I saw many of them getting it on. I watched them hovering just above the water, hoping a bass would come up and demolish them... but no luck. The frogs- the frogs that are apparently new residents at the pond - were close to deafening.

Oh, it's ON fishies

Looking across the pond, I could see dark shapes in the water near weeds... I wondered if they were fish. When I cast to the areas I saw these shapes, I could make out multiple bass dispersing. Crazy!! I wondered if the whole pond was shallow, and if they were just making their spawning beds everywhere.

I fished for about two hours, and hooked into 6-8 fish. I managed to land a total of 4, which is a much better number than I've been getting lately. The other fish were able to throw the hook, but that's ok... It was fun to tangle with them.

This little trip gave me a taste of the warm weather fishing season about to happen... I am giddy just thinking about it, after fishing through the cold months lucky to get a single bite per outing. With the forecast, it looks like things will stay nice; maybe this means the pond is on. I'll find out soon enough.

the biggest (full of eggs?)

Sight fishing for bass

they're in there...
actually there are bass in the picture, but
they're hard to make out

On my way home today, I stopped by the pond to see what was up. I don't really know how to fish with the constantly changing weather, but I made some lures I really wanted to try out.

This one, which I'll call the bumble minnow, definitely needs another hook. It's way off-balance, and mostly just spins through the water. After a few casts, even using a swivel, I got some pretty severe line twist on my braided line. I spent about 5 minutes detangling it, and I was back fishing.

This guy is my attempt at a clown pattern. After I added the eyes, it occurred to me it looked kind of like a creek chub. Here's a picture of river guru Ken G holding a creek chub (I hope he doesn't mind I stole his picture):

(to read the post this picture comes from, go here)

My clown pattern lure works pretty well in the water, and has a very very tight wobble. At first I didn't there was any wobble, but upon closer examination I could see the feathers moving back and forth. The internet tells me crankbaits with a tight wobble are good for cold water. In the 15 minutes I fished the lure, nobody was interested... but I'm going to try again soon.

I fished an area of the pond far from where I usually fish, due to another fisherman at the pipe. I started casting, and suddenly I noticed a bass just hanging out extremely close to the shore. It was probably three feet from me. Could this be bass on their beds, i.e. spawning? Or getting ready to spawn? I've read a great deal about this, but so far I hadn't seen it happening. The internet tells me bass will attack anything that moves into their nest.

I bounced my wacky-rigged worm about an inch in front of a pair of bass, and they just watched it. They didn't move an inch.

Ok, I decided to try a different tactic. I was pretty sure crayfish liked to eat bass eggs, so perhaps these bass would try and kill something they thought was a crayfish. On my line went a texas-rigged chigger craw.

I bounced it past them, same routine. Another cast, and nothing. Another cast, the plastic critter landed directly on the back of one of the bass. Apparently startled, it moved a few feet and resumed it's hanging out. Another cast, and I let it sit in the weeds for a few seconds. I wiggled it a little. I watched a bass slowly swim over, look at it, and then in the blink of an eye it attacked the critter and immediately swam away. It just nipped the end of the plastic, didn't get the hook.

This was amazing- I've watched bluegill hanging out, but never have I been able to actually see bass interacting with my bait in the water.

I kept trying, and was perplexed by their disinterest. After all was said and done, I got 4 or 5 hits, all of them little nips. Maybe these were warning shots, telling the critter to get the hell away from the eggs. I was surprised the bass didn't just eat it!

Then the rain picked up (oh yeah, did I mention it was raining again? After Sunday's wet experience I don't mind it too much). As soon as that happened, suddenly about a million frogs started croaking. Never in all the times I've fished the pond- probably at least a hundred by now- have I ever seen or even heard a frog.

Where did they come from?

As I walked back to my car, soaking wet again, I thought about how I could make some frog lures. I hear bass love frogs.

An evening of multi-species firsts

Fish are awesome!

or "The Magic of the Green Tube Jig"

Headed out to the new spot on the Chicago River yesterday evening after work, scarfed some Jimmy John's down on the #124 bus (didn't want to waste time eating when I could be fishing), which was filled with Navy Pier-goers.

Daiwa Peanut Crank in prizm black shad

Got off before they all did, ready to hit the spot. I already rigged a chigger craw per Jeff's suggestion, and took about 30 seconds to piece together my collapsible rod. When I got to the spot, I noticed the same security guard was there - right by the water - so I decided to fish from the other side of the river and wait until he left.

I think I'm getting much better at casting, because I was able to consistently get my lure in what I thought was the strike zone from about 50' (?). Although this was great casting practice, I wasn't getting so much as a nibble. I remembered one of the many fishing mantras I've heard over and over again: "If what you're doing doesn't work, change!" Since I wasn't ready to change my location (the security guard was still chatting it up with some ladies) I tied on a Daiwa Peanut Medium Crankbait in Prizm Black Shad color. I had never caught a fish on a crankbait, but I know there were little fish swimming around, so I'd give it a go.

The spot. Notice the security guard in the upper-right-hand corner. Outside the frame is the "No Fishing" sign

My first cast, the crank landed exactly where I wanted it- I waited for the ripples to stop, and I twitched it a few times (this crank floated on the top until you started retrieving it. Maybe that's how all crankbaits work, but I've barely used them...) On the third twitch, WHAM! Fish on!

This was no tentative bite, this was "Hey gimme that right now I'm hungry! MMmmmmm!" I set the hook, and began the short battle. I pulled up, reeled, pulled up, reeled - Jeremy Wade style - to keep the fish from going down into the rebar that I knew was on the bottom. As it came closer, fighting voraciously, I saw it was a fair-sized fish. Whoohoooo!

My 30 minute skunk-fest ended, I pulled up a good sized bluegill (pumpkinseed? I always confuse them), which was not only my first crankbait catch, but my first Chicago River gill!

A real nice-sized fish, who gave me a great fight

It took me a while to get the treble hook (actually 1 part of it broke off, so there were only 2 hooks in the fish) but once I did, I snapped a quick picture and let my new best friend back into the water. She (I think) was happy to go and quickly darted to the bottom.

Alright! I thought- I found something that worked! I cast to the same spot, and twitched it the same way.... and... nothing. Worked that lure for another 20 minutes, and again, not even a nibble.

A mom and her 4-year-old (?) son came down to watch. The little kid thought my pretend fish was pretty awesome, and it "swims just like a real fish!" It sure does! I think it's pretty awesome too. "There's a lot of trash in there. Fish don't eat trash. Ducks don't eat trash." He was right- it's too bad people are so careless with their McDonald's cups and candy bar wrappers.

The security guard gone, with a chigger craw tied back on, I tiptoed to the other side of the river and threw my lure in. This, mind you, was in front of a very large "NO FISHING" sign. I worked the bait against the wall, bunny-hopping it along; dragged it along the bottom near some falling water (fish love oxygen, right?), and again, nothing.

Around this time I noticed two ladies having a smoke break by the water, giving me some dirty looks. Obviously they didn't like me fishing there, but I'm not sure what they didn't like.. All my gear was in my backpack, on my back, and I wasn't casting anywhere near them. Any monofilament line went right back into my backpack, and I wasn't making a sound. I wasn't smoking, drinking, shouting, or littering.

I noticed the security guard come back around the corner, and started talking to the ladies. They spoke in hushed tones, but then one said loudly "Go get'em!"

I heard the keys on his belt rattle as he walked in my direction, but I kept fishing because I got a few nibbles in the spot, and I thought it would be awesome to pull out a smallie or something right when he came down. He came up about 10' behind me and whispered "Hey"

I turned around, and he recognized me from last week. He explained that he didn't care if I fished there or not, but those ladies were complaining. He told me to go back to the other side, but I could come back to this spot when the ladies left. If the sidewalk I was on was in fact city property as Jeff said it was, then this was all total mierda, but I wanted to keep fishing. So I went to the other side, and continued fishing.

Fish #2

They left about 3 minutes later, I went back to the other side, and the security guard gave me a thumbs up. Ok, cool. I wonder what he would have done if I complained about the ladies' smoking. Seems to me that is a lot more disruptive than a silent, careful, respectful angler wearing a backpack. Not to mention the ~20 people who stopped to talk to me, seemingly sincerely interested that there are fish in the river. I'm guessing some of them will come back and fish sometime!

Back to fishing, I tried some more lures, to no avail. Chigger craw, cranks, minnows on jig (worked last week), and nothing. I decided to bust out my all-time favorite lure, that has caught me more fish than any other, probably because I fish with it so much- my green tube jig.

Of course, immediately, first cast, I got a hit! and reeled in a nice looking rock bass. Cha-ching! I'm in!

It had a very interesting pattern I hadn't seen before, with dark splotches. Kind of pretty. This is rock bass, and not some other species, right? Remember, I'm still super new to all this.

Kept working the tube jig, got LOTS of little hits. Saw a brown colored fish in the water hanging out with a bunch of dink 'gills. Couldn't tell what it was (smallie? smallie? smallie?) Pitched the jig ~4' beyond the fish, and crawfished it over toward the brown fish. WHAM! Fish on!

This guy fought even harder than the previous two fish, and I was very surprised to see a ~10" catfish come out of the water attached to my green tube jig. This was my fourth catfish ever, first one on the river, and first one on an artificial! Whooohoooo!

My new friend, the catfish, fish #3 of the day

Fish #4 - My first Chicago River crappie!

This was kind of weird; usually when I get into some fish, I'll get into some more of the same kind in the same place on the same bait, but not today. Today was multi-species day! And it kept going- a few minutes later I got my first Chicago River crappie... on the same green tube jig.

Awesome! None of these fish are huge, but hey, it's great to catch fish. It's also really cool there is such a variety of fish right here- I know there are also LMB and smallies around here, and I'd been seeing carp jump all evening. To think a few 20 years ago this river was a disgusting trough of toxic waste, it speaks volumes of the river cleanup and awareness that it can support all these fish today.

I caught mussels! (Fish #4 1/2?)

I kept with my favorite lure, and was getting battered by hits. Missed a few hooksets, and got caught up in some branches a few times. One cast I got into a fish, it pulled the jig down, and when I reeled in I got another very interesting catch. I wasn't sure if they were zebra mussels or not, I should look that up so I know if they are nice mussels or bad mussels. I thought of how much I like eating mussels... Don't worry, I didn't eat them.

Anyway, I persisted, and hooked into what seemed like a VERY nice fish. Could it be? Finally? After all this time and effort, could I have finnally hooked a smallie?? Is this the moment I've been daydreaming about?

This fish gave me a GREAT fight- I estimated it was bigger than the bluegill I caught earlier in the evening; it was taking me all over the place, my rod tip bent and pulsing, my drag squealing as I struggled to keep it out of the weeds, rebar, and rocks on the bottom...

I finally get him to the surface, and I was a little confused, to say the least..

Confused because it's very small size, un-rock-bass-like shape, and extreme fight. I didn't think this was a smallie, it's fins and pattern seemed to be wrong for that... It didn't seem like a rock bass, or did it? It was a lot darker than any other rock bass I'd caught.

Here's the fish I caught...

... here's a picture of a "shadow bass"

..and here's a similarly-sized rock bass

And here I was, thinking I was all fancy and good at identifying fish now... and now I was stumped. I took a few pictures, and let the little bugger go. It was time to leave to catch my train, so I could see my wife for a few minutes before we both went to sleep.

All in all a great outing- but it really made me wonder about the green tube jig. Is it that is really that effective, and can catch basically anything that swims? Or could it be that since I've fished with it more than any other lure, I am better at working it in the water than any other lure... Or maybe I just suck at all the other lures I try using...

I'm not sure; I'm going to keep varying up my lures and not automatically start with the green tube jig on my line... I would like to get better at other lure styles, and learn to be a well-rounded all-species angler.

Saved from the skunk... by a goby

I'll stop right here and acknowledge most of you wouldn't count catching a goby as catching a fish, and would just as well feed it to the seagulls than take pictures of it... But on a tough morning like today, I'll take what I can get!

the view on my drive downtown

Woke up extra early, ate some crock pot steel cut oatmeal with pecans and blackberries (recipe coming soon), filled up my travel mug with coffee and hit the road. 

The weather report anticipated a light rain this morning and clouds, and winds from the south/southwest. This sounded like great fishing weather! I packed my rain jacket and was prepared to slay'em! I checked windycityfishing.com for updates, and somebody reported salmon close to shore. Awesome!

I really do like being up early, before the day really starts... Everything is nice and quiet, the air is fresh and crisp, and the possibility of catching massive amounts of fish could still become a reality.

Nothing about the expressway was nice and quiet, it was chock full of traffic, before 6am.

Once I got downtown, I went right to the pipe at Burnham. Meijer didn't have any nightcrawlers - even though I called ahead to confirm they did!! - so I would be working with all artificials today. Rigged one rod with a bobber and gulp minnow, the other with a little cleo spoon (wanted to try it out).

After 30 minutes and not a single bite, I was distraught. I can always manage a bite from SOMETHING by the pipe. Then I noticed a flow of water, about 50' to my right. I was in the wrong spot! Obviously I had not consumed enough coffee.

We meet again, goby

After moving to the pipe, I went through a selection of lures- tubes, jigs tipped with gulp minnows, spinners, and nothing. At this point I'd been sitting there for about an hour, with the blazing sun, unencumbered by clouds (no rain, weather.com, you lie!) not getting so much as a nibble.

Finally I got a fish! Although when I hooked it, I didn't get excited... I knew what it was.

BUT it sure was nice to catch a fish! I caught it on a beetle spin with a gulp minnow on the hook. The spinner was almost as big as the goby. I almost have to admire their audacity to attack something the same size as them. Or maybe they're not too bright.

Tried a few more spots in the marina, got nothing, so I moved to the lake side (by Shedd and the planetarium).

Got a few tiny bites (gobies, you bastards) but didn't hookup with anything. Worked my way down the shoreline toward Chicago Harbor. Saw a lot of gobies hanging out on the rocks, in the sun.

Farther inland, close to where the water taxi docks, I started getting some stronger bites. Could have been rock bass, I don't think it was anything bigger. Lost a few tubes and a chigger craw in the rocks. I saw some other guys fishing, one guy said he was fishing for smallies, and nothing was biting. I don't feel so bad when nobody else is slaying'em... If the guy next to me is catching them as fast as he can bait the hook, then I'm doing something wrong!

I called it a day. Alright smallies, you win again, but don't rest too easy- I'm coming for you!