Kids throwing rocks, me catching fish

Suburban fishing

Originally Claire and I were thinking about going camping this weekend. We had a tent (thanks Kim and Leo!) and sleeping bags, but not much else. Instead of scrambling to purchase everything we needed at the last minute, we decided to get stuff now and camp next weekend. That meant two things: we ended up at L.L. Bean, I got some early birthday wading boots (!!) and we wanted to be outside. The temperature and sun were just right. Claire suggested we go fishing at a local reservoir, so we did.

We brought our new camping chairs, a little cooler, three rods, beverages, and Walter the Boston terrier. I'd like to call him our fishing dog, but he doesn't seem to care about fish whatsoever. He'll sniff for a second, then wander away, unimpressed. I visited this water before, noticing a couple doing exactly what we were doing: relaxing with a bunch of rods in the water. I remember looking down on their style of fishing. Why would you want to just sit there when you could be actively fishing? Only now do I think I know the answer. Well, there are two: carp and catfish. In fact, the same trip (in the kayak) I found what I later realized was a whole mess of catfish fry. I'll need to do some catfishing here later...

So we hung out, enjoyed the sun, and I watched what I could only assume we're carp wakes all over the water. I tried corn on a hook, then white bread squeezed around a hook; I even threw out little smushed pieces of bread to try and bring the carp in. I wonder if that technique is more of a cumulative thing, meaning I should do that every few days to create some awesome carp fishing...

Retention pond crappie

Claire hopped on her bike to do some laps around the trail, and no sooner had she left than I got my first and only fish of the day: a white crappie, around 8". My first of the year! It attacked a gulp minnow under a slip bobber, and didn't mind I used a piece of grass to keep the bobber in place. It works remarkably well, and grass is readily available and biodegradable. Walter was unimpressed. He was much more interested in watching the bike path to see who would be riding by next.

After a couple hours enjoying the sun, Walter rolling around in the mud like a little pig, and one single fish, we headed home.

Not too soon after getting back home and unloading the car, I got back in and made my way back to the Fox River. I have a great wife who lets me go fishing frequently and for long periods of time. The one stipulation is usually that I prepare some kind of food to eat; this time I fed her tomato soup and cast iron grilled cheese. I'm not a grilled cheese fan, but I'm fairly positive grilled cheese in cast iron is superior to every other kind out there.

Muddy dog

Anyway, soon I found myself back on the fox, the weather even nicer than the day before. I didn't even bring my jacket. In fact, I wore shorts and a t-shirt under my waders, and must say I enjoyed wading barefoot, so to speak. There was some kind of bug hatch going on, which started docile enough but would eventually crescendo into an all-out Chris attack-fest. At least it felt that way.

It must have been my third or fourth cast when I hooked into the first beast of the evening- and it felt very big. Based on my luck the previous day- 3 smallies and 10+ almosts- I was excited to jump back into the fray and fight some scrappy river smallies. This first one seemed big; it headed down, fighting with raw power. It took a minute or two to horse it in, and that's when I realized why it felt so big.

Somehow I had gut hooked it, the hook stuck in its chest instead of its mouth. I brought it close, and quickly lipped it so I could get the hook out in as little time as possible. This is where I face the eventual certainty of fishing: although I never want to hurt an animal for the sake of hurting it, and will only kill if I intend to eat it, the very act of fishing can hurt the fish. Although I certainly didn't mean to harm the fish, I was after all dragging a very sharp hook through the water, hoping a fish would out it's lip through the sharp point. There's some debate on whether fish feel pain or not, and like most people I can't know whether they do or not. I could rationalize and explain how it is I sleep at night, but the short answer is I try to avoid hurting fish as much as possible when fishing.

I felt horrible having harmed this beautiful creature in this way; I looked at its wound and it reminded me of some bird-inflicted wounds I'd seen on other fish. It occurred to me that although I don't intentionally hurt fish, there are plenty of animals who would love to make a quick meal out of any smallie, and we certainly can't find fault in that. They are animals, and all animals need to eat. Including us.

For a moment I considered keeping the fish for the table, as it was at least 14" (the legal minimum) and would rather eat it than let it suffer and die wantonly. But as I carefully removed the hook, I noticed the wound wasn't deep at all, and the fish seemed fine. I got the hook out, and held the bass in the water to see if it could swim away on its own. After a second, the bass chomped down on my thumb - hard- as if to scold me for injuring it. It burst away like the annoyed little rocket it was.

I'm new to the outdoors, to nature, to animals, but there's something that seems to be a recurring theme: nature doesn't care. A blade of grass growing in the sidewalk doesn't care it's not in the forest; a heron doesn't care if it eats an endangered fish; nature doesn't care if you're there or not, it will continue to do its thing. To the smallmouth bass, I was just another predator, and a dumb one at that. What predator would voluntarily set his prey free?

I was happy the bass was fine, hoped it would prosper, and wondered if the run-in with me would make it smarter and more wary in the future. Perhaps it would live longer because of this brush with death. It had a new lease on life. But perhaps it would die in a day due to an infection or something else. Either way I was pretty sure nature wouldn't loose sleep over it, even though I might.

Pretty nice fish right there, I think

But back to fishing. I managed to pull out two more bass with that same tube jig, standing in the same spot from the night before. One jumped from the water a few inches, shaking its head when it saw me. The other swam so fast and seemed so strong I was convinced it was some species new to me. Then I saw its bronze back, stripes and fiery red eyes and knew it was another smallie.

There were some teenagers hanging out near the shore, having an animated leaf race as they put leaves into the current. Then they started throwing rocks into the water. Although they were quite far from me, I found myself getting angry at them for disturbing my peaceful (well almost) fishing. Then I thought back to the few times I'd been on the water as a kid, and my first instinct had always been to pick up rocks and throw them into the water. It makes a fun splash!

Instead of yelling at the kids, I wondered what the fish thought of it. Stuff falling into the water happens all the time naturally, so really this wasn't anything fish hadn't seen before. I guessed they would swim away from the rock explosions, which just so happened to be in my direction. Turns out I might have been right, as that third smallie was caught seemingly escaping the rock explosions. It didn't care what or who was causing them, it just wanted to get away.

I kept fishing, but just like the day before the fishing suddenly dried up. As usual, I was faced with a few choices, not sure which would be the right one. Should I try a new spot? Should I switch lures and/or vary up my presentation? Did I catch all the fish in this part of the river?

What an awesome looking fish

The current was very strong, and a few cursory attempts to wade to other spots convinced me not to continue. Since I was pretty sure there were more fish there, I tried to entice the fish with a variety of other lures. Crankbaits, twisters, spinners, more tubes, but nobody would bite.

Recovered gear! And trash cleanup

Reluctantly I tried heading downstream, staying close to the shore and wading very slowly. The water was rushing fast even though I was far from the main current; a few times I felt close to loosing my footing in the river. I made my way to some fishy looking spots, managed a few hits on a twister, but no other luck. Besides the big eddy I'd been fishing in, almost the entire remainder of the river around me was a gushing torrent of water, constantly threatening to push anything and everything downstream. Nature didn't care.

When I looked over to pick up a Gatorade bottle trapped in some branches by the current, to my surprise I saw my lure from yesterday! You know, the one that snapped off my line and went flying downriver in the dark.

The sun was setting; I had hoped to fish a trench I knew of just a few yards out in the river. As I slowly attempted to wade out there, the sound of water bombarding my waders became deafening. The river was bullying me to go back to shore. This wasn't a fight I would win, so I let the river push me around and made my way to the shore. I found a trail and hiked back upstream to the eddy.

On the way back I saw a little snake, which turned out to be dead. Although nature didn't care, I enjoyed seeing a snake up close. Too bad he died, I thought, but he'll be a nice meal for some racoon or fish or bird sometime real soon.

I've been paying close attention to the ground lately, curious about what other animals hang out around the rivers' edge. I saw some shockingly big footprints in the mud, next to a few bike tracks. At first I though it was just a big dog, but I'm fairly positive they were coyote tracks based on some Internet "research." Don't know why I didn't take a picture. Maybe because it was dark and there was a coyote running around.

I fished the eddy until it was definitely dark, throwing most of the arsenal in my fishing vest. Even the stuff in my little backpack. No walleye obliged, nor did any more smallies.

Once again, my last cast was chosen for me, with a snap I saw my lure slowly arc into the air, flying away into the darkness. Maybe I'd find it next time.

Fishing in the wind and the rain

Wading in the rain

Sunday afternoon I found myself standing in the water on the Fox River, watching storm clouds fly far over my head. Occasionally they decided to open up and sprinkle me with water. Thankfully there was no thunder or lightening, so I stayed in the water fishing.

Counting up my trips now, I count this as my 45th fishing trip since January 1. That's a lot of fishing! But just like saxophone or anything else, practice makes perfect.

I worked a slightly different stretch than I usually do (thanks for the tips Ken) and it was great to do some exploring. This was my first time wading where I started in short sleeves (got my waders in October) but I quickly put on a sweatshirt on account of the hurricane-like winds.

Storms coming...

Lately I've been torn between working one lure in many different ways or many different lures more quickly... This trip I gave each lure about 20 minutes each to prove itself, trying to find out what the fish wanted. I mostly stuck with white jig and twister and olive tube jig, but I also threw a white spinnerbait, crankbaits, and a swimjig. I actually got hits on the spinnerbait, but they were surprisingly light. I mostly fished a particular seam, as well as an area right next to a rock wall.

They were hanging right up against the wall

I had it on good authority that there might be fish in this spot... I stood here for quite some time, throwing lures into the wall and watching them plop down into the water. My first cast here I got a hit right on the drop, but couldn't connect. Second cast with my olive tube jig, and a smallie smashes it like a semi running over a watermelon!

Chunky Fox River smallie

This one put up quite a fight too- I was surprised it didn't jump out of the water though... So far none of the smallies I've caught this year have done that. I guess the water is still a little cold- I bet in a few weeks they'll be back throwing my hook like in October.

What are these bones from?

Taking a break from fishing, I did a little exploring and found a bunch of interesting bones. They seemed like fish bones, but I couldn't figure out where on the fish they would come from... I wondered if they were the work of a lazy fisherman or a hungry animal.

Then I noticed a lure sitting on the rocks a few inches from the bones, which made me think it was the work of a fisherman. Looked like a lure a smallie would go for. I don't have anything against people keeping legal-sized fish for the table- but I always think of the smallmouth bass as a game fish, a fighting fish, not really for eating. I hope this one was of a legal size, if that's what the bones were from.

And I hope it was tasty, whatever it was. That's actually one of my greatest worries about harvesting fish- catching a nice fish and not giving it the honor of a delicious preparation.

If it's a nice fish with a nice fight, the least you could do is cook it up real nice out of respect.

Another new lure

Turns out this was my first found lure on the Fox! The lip was gone, but I have lure making supplies at home... I could fix it. It occurred to me that only one of the crankbaits I've been using was actually purchased by me- all the rest were found while fishing or kayaking. I think it evens out when I think about how many expensive lures I've lost on the first cast.

After about four hours of fishing with only a few light bites and one fish, I decided to throw in the towel and head home.

Saturday on the creek

The view from the water
This is why I go outside!

It was Saturday, and it wasn't a blizzard or thunderstorm, so I went out fishing.

Sometimes can't figure out how I choose where to go. This morning was no different- somehow the idea of wading Salt Creek near my house popped into my head. So I got suited up and headed to a spot where I could get in the water.

After my first cast, I realized I wouldn't be satisfied with this... At this stretch, the creek was mostly about a foot deep, and there was next to no structure. Just muddy flats. Since my kayak happened to be strapped to my car, parked a short walk away, the choice was obvious.

I paid no attention to the strange looks I got from local residents as I took my kayak down and got it ready to go. I quickly carried it to the creek, slid down the steep grassy bank, and was back in the water. I carefully pulled the kayak down, easing it next to me in the water.

My new plan was to kayak up to Busse (Busse, the skunk that keeps on skunking me) and fish the Arlington pool. Supposedly there were pike and walleye in there, which just so happened to be on my fishing "to do" list. I hopped in the kayak and started paddling. Only recently have I started kayaking wearing my waders, and I have to say it's simply amazing. Paddle, stop, wade, fish, paddle some more, wade; it's just great.

Salt Creek @ Arlington Heights Road
(All I could think of was the musky caught here a while ago...)

I slowly made my way up to Arlington Heights road, passing a variety of interesting things. There seemed to be at least ten baseball games going on on the east bank, and there was a baseball floating in the water. I picked it up and plopped it in my yak. Lately trash and debris have really been bothering me. I'm not sure what exactly got me this way; perhaps spending a lot of time on the Fox and other mostly pristine areas makes me hyper-sensitive to trash where I'm fishing. I don't just like fishing, I like fish and birds and otters and beavers and all the other creatures that live around water; I want to catch fish, but I also want these animals to have a nice place to live. Sometimes I wonder how certain trash got in the water (a giant beach ball I found today and somehow stuck in my kayak) and other times I know (fishing line caught in trees near fishy-looking spots).

The other day at the pond, I spent a little while cleaning up a ton of trash. I just got tired of it sitting there, and thought I should do something about it since there's a good chance I use the pond more than anybody else. To my dismay, most of the trash was fishing-related stuff; discarded line, hook packages, and the most offensive to me, a six pack of empty beer cans just thrown into the weeds. What the hell, people.

But I digress... Back to the paddle: At one point something was swimming along next to my kayak, just below the surface. At first I thought it might be an otter, but I watched and it never surfaced for air. It didn't seem like a carp, and all I could think of is it was the elusive Salt Creek muskie. Probably not, but that's what stuck in my head.

Finally I made it to Busse, and there must have been 15 people standing on the east shore, fishing. This was one of those moments when I loved kayak fishing. The west side of the pool is relatively hard to access, and I had it all to myself. I pulled out a rope, tied it to a stump, and started fishing.

I noticed a dead fish floating near some downed branches and fishing line. Not having any luck fishing, I decided to investigate. It was a walleye! And a nice sized one too. There was a ton of monofilament fishing line everywhere, and a couple of heavy jigs caught in the branches. I wondered if these had caused the death of this fine specimen of a fish. It ocurred to me I would be beside myself if I caught a walleye that size. At least this confirms they do in fact inhabit these waters...

Fairly positive it's a walleye...
Not sure what killed it, but the fishing line everywhere doesn't help

Then I got upset, and noticed the jungle of fishing line that was covering branches everywhere. I remembered a previous trip to this pool where I found a dead goose wrapped in a mess of fishing line. I decided to do something about it. I went branch to branch, untangling as much line as I could. Some of the line was too high for me to reach, but much of it was kayak-level. After about a half hour, I had rid the whole area of most of the unsightly and dangerous (to animals) fishing line.

That's a lot of line

And not only that, but I found a ton of lures in the process!

I find a lot of lures while fishing...
...Then again, I also lose a lot of lures

I'm particularly interested in this yellow one. I did some googling, and I think it might be a Hellin Flatfish. It looks almost handmade. Either that, or really old. Regardless, I like it! It has a nice wobble to it in the water.

I don't have any lures like this one

A shore fisherman mentioned to me he got some bites on leeches, which got me back to fishing. I didn't have any leeches, but I did have a leech-like worm I texas-rigged. No takers. I decided to head back downstream.

I saw a bunch of little fish eating caddis flies (I think that's what they are) on the surface of the water. The other day on the Fox there were about a million of these little tiny moths everywhere. I tied on a little jig'n'twister to see if I could catch one, whatever they were. I got tons of little hits, but no commitments. Based on what I've been reading, I thought they might be creek chubs.

As I paddled down the river, I got perplexed looks from people doing yard work in their yards, which of course backed up to the creek. I said "Hello," and they stared back looking at me strangely. When I passed under another bridge, some high school girls saw me and thought it was hilarious I'd be fishing in the creek. I'm not sure what's so hilarious... don't they know there might be a muskie in there!!??

Although I didn't catch any fish, it was a great paddle- it turned out to be a beautiful day, I helped clean up some trash, and got some awesome new lures!

Wacky Bass

In the morning I'd waded the Fox and caught a single smallie. In the early evening I decided to try my local pond, on the off chance conditions might be better (read: warmer, less windy, and sunny) for another outing.

I've been keeping track of my fishing this year, and noticed that this pond trip would be my 27th time fishing since January 1. That's a lot of casting practice. Wow, I sure wish I'd been catching more fish.

The pond

I got to the pond, and it was beautiful! Not too much wind, the sun was out in full force, and I was comfortable in a t-shirt. Inspired by fellow WCF'er Drinkbourbon (Anthony) and his blog post about carp fishing (carping?) I thought I would bring along another rod to see if there were any carp in the pond. Everything I've heard about carp is that they taste bad but are awesome fighters. I like fighting fish.  I had half a loaf of white bread and a handful of corn from my freezer, hoping to at least fight a carp.

Apparently for carp fishing, one good bait is some bread, squeezed around a tiny hook, and left alone on the bottom. Ok, sounds easy enough. I grabbed some bread, smushed it around my tiny hook, put it in the water... and the bread slowly floated off the hook into the water.

Ok, I'll try again. I grabbed some bread, dunked it in the water, squeezed off the excess, smushed it on the hook, cast it out.... and the bread flew off into the pond while the hook fell inches from my feet.

Ok, seriously. How can this be so difficult!? I grabbed some corn, put it on the hook, cast it out... and the corn went flying off into the pond, hitting the surface with a little "plink."

Was I missing something? Determined, I grabbed some more bread, soaked in some water, squeezed it out, mashed it around the hook, and ever-so-carefully-and-gently dropped it into the water, and low and behold the bread stayed on the hook. Great! I stuck my rod in a hole on the pipe, and grabbed my other rod.

A few months ago I'd bought some hooks with a weed guard real cheap that seemed useful for wacky-rigging. A few weeks back I was fishing in Ohio with some family, and Uncle Kevin caught a long thick plastic worm (the only thing any of us caught that day). He donated it to the Chris Beckstrom tackle box, so I figured the least I could do was use it. I wacky rigged it on my weedless hook, cast it out, and let it slowly sink.

I went to retrive it, when I realized there was a fish on! After a short an uneventful battle, I pulled out a lethargic largemouth bass. I estimated about 12" or so.

Largemouth bass caught on a caught-and-then-donated
wacky-rigged plastic worm

I fished for a while longer, going through my entire tacklebox, with no more takers. I tried a 1oz swimjig, which I was amazingly able to cast right to the middle of the pond, but nobody was interested. After a few casts I noticed the green paint had completely come off the lead jighead. What the hell!? If I'm going to pay $5 for a jig, I think the paint should stay on. I should just make some myself...

I tried some corn for carp, but as with the bass, no takers. I decided I'd try again later; I was intrigued by carp- I'd seen a TON almost everywhere... Big ones at Busse, small ones in local creeks, it seemed like it would be a great time to tangle with a giant fish. In my head, I added it to my list of 2012 fishing goals.

For those keeping track, here's my updated list:

FISHING GOALS FOR 2012

• Catch some trout - DONE - I caught some small brown trout on the Rogue in Michigan
• Catch a pike
• Catch a walleye
• Catch some more smallies - DONE - The Fox has been relatively kind to me this year
• Catch a bass in the kayak - I still haven't done this!
• Newly added: Catch a carp - Maybe it would be even more fun on my new ultralight...
• Catch and cook some fish - I'm thinking perch from the big lake would be good for this...

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.

The One That Got Away (0 for 8 on the Fox)

The River

My wife and I celebrated our one year wedding anniversary this weekend. The weather was as nice as it was a year ago when we got married- unseasonably warm, with beautiful leaves changing everywhere. We had a nice dinner Friday night, I surprised Claire with an iPad (!!!) and origami tulips (the first anniversary is supposed to be the "paper" anniversary... so I googled origami and I was off). On Saturday after breakfast and some errands, being the incredibly awesome wife she is, Claire suggested I go fishing.... and make use of my "anniversary waders" (which is what they are, and I'm required to call them). She didn't have to tell me twice!

A short 45 minutes later, I was making my way to the water in Lippold Park on the Fox River. I felt extremely outdoorsy- waders, camo hat, fishing gear, broom handle wading staff, big bushy beard (I've been letting it grow out) and heavy-duty L.L. Bean boots. I headed to the spot where Leo and I fished the previous week, where I landed the big smallie. Sounds like a hip-hop name. The big smallie.

Anyway, I made some casts into the water where I was going to enter, and after a minute I slowly crept into the water. The last (and first) time I waded, I wore jeans and froze my a** off... But this time the air was much warmer, although I didn't know about the water. I was wearing long underwear under my waders, which turned out to be the perfect match for the cold water. I was completely comfortable standing in the water. We'll see how this goes when it's 40°F out; but with a 75°F air temperature, it was awesome.

The river level was lower than it was last weekend- it seemed to be a really nice level to wade. I really appreciated visiting this spot a few times when the water level was extremely low; I now had some idea of what lay under the water. Rivers are crazy- always changing, filled with all kinds of currents and pools and riffles and flats and drops... Makes ponds and lakes seem super boring! Even if I end up being a "river angler," I'll never forget my lake-fishing roots.

The view from the water

On the end of my line I tied a 4" white twister tail on a 1/16oz jig. That landed me some smallies 3 weeks ago, and the 1 big one last weekend. It apparently was the go-to lure for smallies, at least that's what the internet seemed to tell me. I worked my way downstream, in many places the river more like a pond than a moving body of water. I tried to find some moving water, which turned out to be farther downstream. Instead of bushwacking my way through the forest, I slowly and carefully waddled down the river. It was a little slower, but much less frustrating; far fewer hangups on trees, or spiderwebs in the face.

I got to what seemed like a promising spot- a place I'd caught some smallies a few weeks back, where I had "wet-waded" in my boots about 20' into the river. This time the river was higher, and the water obscured the little underwater peninsula... but I knew it was there, and I knew there were deeper pools around it. I began casting, getting plenty of hangups but for the most part I was able to get them free. Then I noticed a lure in a tree, about 10' from shore. Hey, it was mine from 3 weeks ago! I waded over to the jig'n'twister, hung in the tree like a Christmas ornament, and liberated it back into my tacklebox. It was nice to get a lure back, and even nicer to pick up my litter.

I continued downstream, having no luck at this spot. Another guy was wading near me, and he didn't seem to be having much luck either. Although I wasn't catching any fish, I sure enjoyed being in the water! It's a different perspective, standing in the water, surrounded by the current (and probably some fish). I can't believe I didn't get waders sooner. This was awesome.

A few minutes later, I found myself near a branch in the water that had given up smallies on more than one occasion. I threw my jig'n'twister, but got nothing. On a whim, I pulled out my old favorite- the green tube jig. The lure that had given me so many great facebook pictures; the lure that had landed me many nice bass throughout the spring and early summer; the lure that I used almost exclusively until the past month or so. I tied it on, cast it, and let it fall to the bottom. And then...

Fish on!!

It took me by surprise, and immediately threw the hook. A greenish-brownish flash flew out of the water, and returned with a splash. It was on! My first hookup while wading!

I continued casting, and hooked up again. I found it difficult and disconcerting trying to maintain tension on the line while my rod was so close to the water. As much as I enjoyed being splashed in the face by a smallie throwing my hook a few feet in front of me, I would have much preferred a few snapshots of the two of us together.

Can you spot the jig'n'twister?

Again I made contact, my line swimming through the water, the smallie on the other end almost swimming in a circle around me. This was fantastic! If shore fishing was like archery, wading was like hand-to-hand combat. It seemed like my quarry and I were on more equal footing, so to speak. I was in their house, in their territory. Something about it seemed more sporting, and definitely more exciting. There was always the chance of the current knocking me over, or tripping on a rock, or a brazen fish swimming around me like a rebel fighter tying up an imperial walker. I liked it!

After I stopped getting hits from the branch - and working all angles of it - I moved on downstream. I experimented casting upstream, and downstream, and perpendicular from the shore, and everything in between. Every so often I would hookup, but could never keep the hook attached to the speeding rocket of a fish that was at the end of my line. It was incredibly exciting, but also incredibly frustrating. I was beginning to understand the appeal of wading for smallies. With largemouth bass, if I hooked into one there was usually very little chance of it throwing the hook. The fight was over before it started. With these fiesty river bass, hooking into them only meant the battle had begun- there was no certainty of any new facebook profile pictures! I had to work for them.

It reminded me of difficult video games I played growing up- I was often frustrated, trying to beat the same level over and over again, but when I finally did it was that much more satisfying.

I kept moving downstream, and kept hooking up. I did everything I could to maintain tension on the line, to no avail. I tried a few different lures- a white spinnerbait, back to the jig and twister, a homemade inline spinner, a white Sims spinner, but I didn't get a single hit on anything but my good old green tube jig. Ok then, I thought- if that's what you want today, that's what I'll throw out!

As soon as I switched back to the tube, I got more hits. I remembered the whole reason I started using tube jigs was I wanted to catch smallies, "pound for pound the gamest fish that swims," but only caught LMB. Turns out the places I was fishing didn't have smallies! Now I was standing in a veritable smallie apartment complex, and was slaying them, at least in terms of finding them and hooking up with them.

Close to sunset, close to the strange machine building where I caught my first smallie of 2011 a few weeks back, I got yet another hookup... but this one was BIGGER. I could feel it. It was definitely a smallie- but it seemed to move more slowly with more force. I kept the tension, and managed to bring it closer to me. It had taken the tube about 40' downstream from where I was standing, and somehow I was able to bring it up to me. Yes! Yes! This is it! I reeled it in, my rod more like the letter "U" than the letter "I," a big beast of a fish on the end. As it came closer, it seemed to suddenly notice me standing in the water, and it intensified its flight. It swam around me, and I swiveled in the water to keep the tension.

Suddenly it burst threw the surface of the water, showering me with splashes, and our eyes met for a split second as it hovered three feet above the river. Its magnificent red eyes stared into my blue eyes, taunting me. As if in slow motion, as it slowly fell back toward the water, I saw the tube jig slide out of its mouth. The monster- I guesstimated at least 14"- hit the water like a cannonball. With a powerful flick of its tail, it once again splashed me with water, and was gone.

Amazing! My heart was racing, the adrenaline was pumping- this was it. This is why these fish are so awesome. I would take a small fish that fights like this over a lunker LMB any day.

I quickly recast and hit the entire area, but nobody was interested. I wondered if all the commotion had scared the other fish away. It was getting dark, the sun was setting behind the trees, and I knew it was time to go. It was time to head back home. In the few short hours in the river, I hooked up 8 times. I kept thinking 0 for 8, I think you write it 0-8. Next time I would improve my score. This really was like a game.

Although I would be returning empty-handed (more like empty-photo-libraried) it was an incredibly fun outing. These fish were something else.

I was skunked, but it sure was pretty