CB makes a bow and arrows

I fished the Fox on Sunday morning,  and although I didn't catch a single fish, it was a pleasure to be outside. My first wading trip was last Fall, and the majority of my wading trips have been in fairly cold weather (usually cold and rainy). This was one of the first times the water was pleasant, the breeze wasn't chilly, and I even rolled up my sleeves.

I saw a lot of wildlife- a couple of deer came to the river to drink, and seemed perplexed by me. Once they returned to the woods, I saw them watching me through the trees. Maybe if I'd caught a fish while they were watching it would have made more sense to them. I suppose just standing in the middle of a river does look strange.

Can you see the deer?

Later, in a different spot, I saw a bunch of adult geese with a many baby geese. I had no idea they were yellow when they were young- I would have guessed they were baby chickens if I didn't see them next to their parents. I wonder if they taste like chickens.

Geese and goslings (?)

A couple days later I fished the retention pond. The weather has been colder this week than last week, and the fishing has shut down for me. I managed to get one hit from a bass about a foot from shore- I reeled him in, and as soon as he saw me he simply opened his mouth and spit out the chigger craw. I didn't even hook him! That was one of the more crazy fishing experiences I've ever had. That fish was determined.

A few days ago I finished the amazing book "The Mindful Carnivore" by Tovar Cerulli. I think I might write a formal review of it, but not today. My summation of his thesis is that no matter what we do as humans, we hurt other living things, and there is no way around it. Even growing vegetables requires at the very least the killing of insect pests; apparently many farmers regularly kill deer to protect their crops.

The author went from being vegan to hunting because he wanted to face the death necessary for his sustenance head-on, without disguising it behind layers of plastic and styrofoam or words like "free range" or "organic." I'm no hunter, although I do occasionally keep fish I catch and cook them. I could relate to much of what Tovar wrote. This book was a great account of his journey from veganism to meat-eating, and his great respect for nature and all the life around him.

After finishing the book, and not wanting to go fishing due to the lack of action and colder weather, something possessed me to try and make a bow and arrow. I promise it has nothing to do with "The Hunger Games." If anything, it's more related to my current obsession with outdoorsy-ness. I also just wanted to see if I could.

I found some downed branches, took them home, cut off the bark with a knife, made notches for the bow string, for which I first tried using monofilament fishing line. I have a lot of it laying around, and now that I pretty much use braided line exclusively, I didn't mind using a bunch of mono for my bow. As you could probably guess, the line snapped fairly easily. I found some twine we had laying around, and using a "slip knot" (which I just learned) I was able to tie the line to the bow. I wrapped duct tape around the handle to prevent splinters and whatnot, and put some around the twine to assist in holding the notches in the arrows.

Then I took some sticks (which I thought were straight but are obviously quick crooked) added some cardboard for the "feathers" (don't know the archery term) and whittled the points down so they weren't completely blunt.

What I had was this:

Believe it or not, it works... kind of

And it works! By the time I finished everything, it was dark. This morning before I headed out to work I tried shooting my new arrows. I propped up a cardboard box, and was very surprised by the power of my new bow and the arrows I made. I was able to put arrows through two layers of cardboard from about twenty feet!

Aiming is difficult, and where the arrows end up is anybody's guess... I'd never shot an arrow before yesterday, except of course in Wii Sports. I really liked it there, which suggested to me I might like the real thing. I figured instead of investing money on something I might not enjoy whatsoever, why not make my own and satisfy my urge to make stuff from scratch in the process.

What have I gotten out of this exercise? If the zombie apocalypse comes, and I find myself in a forest with a knife and some twine, and maybe some cardboard, I might be able to construct my own bow and arrows. If I'm lucky I might confuse the zombies enough to allow for my escape.

Also, this might be an activity worth pursuing with some store-bought gear. Then I can be just like Katniss.

Little Adventures on the Fox

Early morning on the Fox

I'm definitely addicted to river fishing.

My first experience was last fall when I was on a mission to catch some smallmouth bass. At first, it was very overwhelming to me- all the different patterns of current on the water, it seemed difficult to control lures in the current, and of course I had no idea where I'd find fish. I caught my first smallies of last year from the shore, but soon got waders, and started catching the feisty fish in their living rooms. After much google-searching, forum reading, and many hours on the river, I think I'm starting to figure it out. At least a little.

There's something almost magical about walking into a river, literally surrounded by nature and geese and ducks and fish and squirrels and current and bugs that is a completely different experience from lake fishing. I still love lake and pond fishing too, hey I just love fishing period. But river fishing, man, that's where it's at. When a hooked smallie can swim around you in circles, that's definitely a unique experience.

Headed back to the Fox on Wednesday morning, hoping to continue my trend of catching at least one fish on every Fox trip. I haven't been having the same luck at other waters lately, but somehow I've been avoiding the skunk on the river. I got there before sunrise, made the short hike to the water, and started fishing.

As is the theme lately, the water was stupidly cold. There was a week, I think last week, when water temperatures everywhere went up- but that week has been erased from history, and all the waters I've been fishing are back to their low temperatures. The air temperature was relatively nice, but standing in the frigid water, I felt like it could have been well below freezing out.

Especially when the water came up above my midsection region, if you know what I mean. When that happens, for some reason, everything seems MUCH colder.

And then there was the wind. My phone said it was gusting to speeds of 35 mph. As I worked my way up the river (for some reason I decided to wade upstream instead of downstream) at various times I was casting into the wind. Sometimes there would be no wind, but as soon as I cast the wind would viciously pick up, sending my lure right into some trees.

And then there was my line. I've been using braided line this year- got it for Christmas - and have been absolutely loving it. I was running out of line, so I learned the yucatan knot and spooled on some mono line to the little bit of braid I had left. I forgot about mono and it's memory, the way it stays somewhat spooled up even when you cast it. The wind plus my new line gave me no end of frustartions; every 10th cast I'd have to fix a bird's nest.

And the fish weren't cooperating. In my recent effort to diversify my lure offerings, I changed my lure and presentation every 15 minutes or so. Reading reports of people catching smallies on everything from white spinners to crankbaits to stickbaits, I tied those on and tried them out. All of my smallies to date have come from jig'n'twisters or tubes. That means anytime I have something else tied on my line, I wonder if I shouldn't switch back to what I know has worked in the past. But no- I need to figure out what the fish want, not what I want to throw.

The sun was lighting up the treetops on the west bank of the river

Standing on the east side of the river, I looked to the west side, which was being illuminated by the rising sun. I thought about the water temperature, and wondered if the water might be warmer over there. If I were a fish, I might prefer to be in warmer water... So I decided to try something new, and cross the river.

I'd seen the river in very low level conditions last year, so I had some idea of what was under the surface. Watching the currents on the surface, I had some guesses into the deeper parts and the shallower parts. There were geese standing in inches of water, which gave me some more hints. I started wading out into the river.

At first it was fine; as I slowly made my way across, I fished any place that seemed fishy. Areas where the water was deeper or went in little circles (pools?), areas where two flows of water met (seams?) and areas around obstructions (riffles?). I'm still not entirely sure about the terminology.

And then I found myself standing in water up to my chest in very quickly flowing water. I didn't have my wading staff, and I started to worry. I moved at a snail's pace through the water, imagining the current picking me up and sending me downstream to Yorkville or some other place. I was excruciatingly close to the opposite shore, just a matter of feet, but I couldn't find a safe route there. Looking at the water, I identified some areas I thought were deeper areas (pools?) which I soon confirmed with my feet. A few times I almost found out exactly how deep they were.

I was within 10 feet of the shore, I held my arms up to avoid the water, I kept my side facing the flow of water to present a smaller surface area, but it was slow going. Some geese sitting on the shore honked and squawked at me. I wondered if I should head back. Instead, I kept going.

Finally, I made it to the shore. I slowly emerged from the water, my waders dripping all the way up to my chest, my legs feeling very light now that they weren't constantly being hit with flowing water. The geese dispersed angrily, and I stopped to catch my breath. There was a very weathered picnic table on the island, I sat down to rest, and ate some muffins and beef jerky. I didn't question why there was an old picnic table on this island, I was just thankful for a nice spot to rest.

I think this is now mostly used by geese

I looked back at the river, wondering how I would get back across. I imagined myself stranded, only beef jerky and any fish I caught to sustain me. Sometimes I daydream about being stuck in nature, or a post-apocalyptic world. Then I'd have to fish to survive, and I'd have to basically camp 24/7. That sounds exciting to me, until I think about the stuff I wouldn't have, like music or computers or cast iron cookware. Little adventures like this is probably a good middle ground; it would probably be best if there is no zombie apocalypse.

After a few minutes I headed back to the water. The whole idea of crossing the river was to fish on this side (which turned out to actually be an island in the middle of the river) so I fished. The whole morning I hadn't seen any baitfish or anything else that obviously clued me in to the bigger fish. As I entered the water, scanning the surface to locate fishy areas, I heard loud squawking and hissing a feet feet behind me.

I turned around and saw a seemingly gigantic goose, next to a pile of straw and sticks and eggs, who was extremely pissed.

Then I saw another goose who also started to hiss and honk and yell at me.

I was standing in 3 feet of water, very close to shore, and these geese were getting angry. The one by the nest was lowering (her?) head, and it reminded me of nature videos of snakes right before they pounce. I didn't want to get pounced on! I made it this far, I wasn't going to get knocked down by a goose.

I quickly shuffled out into the water, away from the angry geese. They continued to hiss, but didn't seem to be coming after me. (A few hours later, I'd read of a very similar account by Ken G in his blog. I guess it's a recreational hazard, attacking geese that is...)

I tried everything I knew around this new shore; tubes, jigs, swimgjigs, crankbaits, spinners, inline spinners, and nothing. I thought I saw some baitfish boils every now and then, but couldn't connect with any fish. After a while, I headed back to the east shore.

On my way, I discovered some more deeper holes, and large areas without a change in depth (flats?). I was once again in water up to my chest, but the current wasn't as strong as before. I made it to the other side more easily this time, but had to leave the water because I was freezing cold.

I sat down on a log to eat a snack, a PB & J sandwich I'd prepared early in the morning, well before sunrise. I found a clearing with sunlight, hoping to warm up my legs before I went back to fishing. I bit down into a mushy, soaking wet sandwich. For a split second I was extremely confused, and then I remembered there was a backpack on my back... That was surely underwater for an extended period of time in one of my river crossings.

A few minutes later, I carefully stepped back into the water. I discovered at this particular location, there is a 2 foot drop from the shore to the riverbed. Miraculously, I had the foresight to check the depth with a tree branch before walking (falling) in, so I once again avoided being soaked my the river.

Now I worked my way downstream, casting my entire arsenal, and then it happened. I had cycled back to the good old jig'n'twister, cast it downstream right into a seam, and connected with a fish. After a short reeling in (not much of a battle at all, this fish seemed very lethargic... The water was very cold, as all my parts knew firsthand) I pulled a beautiful little smallmouth bass out of the water. I giggled like a schoolgirl.

Bronze gold!

One of the benefits of fishing super early on weekday mornings is usually there isn't anybody else fishing. That means I can fully express my child-like ecstacy when I catch a dink of a fish, without worrying what other anglers think. Of course I write about it here, but if you read this blog you probably know even the smallest fish makes me giddy, and if you didn't like that you could just stop reading.

And then, it was time to go. My legs were freezing cold, my now wet hands were being blown by the wind, causing everything to seem even colder, and a few more minutes of fishing hadn't found any more willing sparring partners.

I walked out of the river, with my soaking wet backpack and aching legs, jumped in my car, and turned the heat on full blast.

I love smallmouth bass

Smallies on the Fox

The prize of the day- 16-17" smallmouth bass
(The biggest I've caught, I think)

I've been having a skunk fest the past week or so. For as often as I've been fishing (pretty much every day, sometimes twice a day) the number of fish I've been catching is dismal. I want to chalk it up to the season and the weird weather, but reading reports of others having great luck has been a little disheartening.

I decided to head to the Fox River, which I think I can say now is my absolute favorite place to fish. Ever. I really like the Rogue River in Michigan, with it's crystal clear water and all the baby trout I caught there, but it's not the Fox. Last fall I caught my first smallie there (well, my first smallie when I knew what it was I caught) and caught a few more before winter. I had my first experience wading on the Fox. Last October I caught the biggest smallie I'd caught...It's a great river!

Woke up at 5am, brewed coffee, heated up some oatmeal, jumped in the car, cranked "Common" Pandora radio, and headed west. My plan was to get to the river a little before sunrise, and that I did. Thankfully the gate was open, and I rolled in greeted by an empty parking lot. Just the way I like it! Hopped out of the car, jumped into my waders, and a few short minutes later I was on the water.

For whatever reason, I decided to work my way south from my starting point. I know many people say you should always fish upstream so your lures are retrived with the current (and you don't spook the fish) but I've had much more luck doing the opposite. Before entering the river, I fan cast the area just in case there happened to be a hog chilling out close to shore. (And it happens too- this spot was where I landed the big smallie in the fall, about 3 feet from shore in 2 FOW!)

Duck, goose, goose, goose

No fish, so I walked into the river. The water level was higher than I was used to, and it was flowing relatively fast. It took me a few minutes to remember how to wade, especially since I haven't been using my wading staff (broom handle) this year. The sun slowly made it's way up, although you wouldn't know it due to all the clouds. There were geese (but not too many), woodpeckers, those black birds with red on their wings, and lots of other animals I heard but didn't see. As the water rushed around my legs, I remembered why I came here- even if I didn't land any fish, this alone was worth the car ride!

I spent half my time admiring nature and half my time bouncing my little jig up and down in the river. Every now and then I would switch out the jig and twister for a tube jig, since both have landed me fish on the river before. I worked my way downstream, trying to read the river and figure out what was under the surface. If I were a fish, where would I want to be? Areas with less current? Seams between fast and slow water? Around fallen timber? I've caught fish in all these places before...

About half an hour in, I found myself standing under some very low hanging tree branches. I'd caught some smallies here before; they had been hanging out under the branches, perhaps eating bugs that fell off the tree, or getting some shade, or eating smaller fish that were eating bugs and getting shade. Dazed by nature, I accidentally hooked a tree branch 6" from my head, and in unhooking it with a cast it splashed into the water right next to me. And there was another big splash, about a foot from my knees, that definitely was not caused by my jig.

Whenever this happens, I always cast right into the splash, just in case. I did this time too, and suddenly my jig was hooked to a fish!

This one gave me the stink eye

In my limited experience with smallmouth bass, I have tremendous respect for the fish as an adversary. They seem a lot more savy than other fish, they are strong from living in current, and if I can manage finding them and hooking them, they are extremely good at throwing the hook in a show of aerial acrobatics. This is why they are so fun! They aren't like the average fish- they are fighters.

This one was no different- as soon as it realized it was hooked, it sped through the water like a missile. I tried to keep tension on the fish, trying to keep it hooked to my line- I just wanted a few pictures of the two of us. The fish swam around me three times, and as it did I spun around, following it, keeping the line tense. After a short battle, I got it close enough I could lip it, and it stared at me angrily.

Hooray, I caught a fish! At this moment I forgot of all the times I'd caught nothing and only thought of how great this was, what an awesome fish this was, and what a great day to be out on the water fighting little feisty fish. After a few snapshots, I returned the little guy to the water, and he happily swam away.

Mission accomplished. I beat the skunk. Well worth getting up at 5am! But of course I wasn't done yet, I was just getting started...

I worked that area for a bit, but there were no other takers. Maybe I scared them all away with my jig explosion. No worries, I just continued downstream, half-absentmindedly casting and retrieving, taking in the sounds and sights around me.

And then all of the sudden I saw a bald eagle in a tree. I immediately knew what it was, and knew they hung out around the river sometimes, but I'd never seen one myself. Maybe it's not that big a deal, but I've certainly never seen a bird like that in nature. It was giant, perched on a branch near the top of a tree. I was stopped in my tracks in awe of this impressive bird, and slowly reached into my pocket to get my phone, hoping I wouldn't scare it away.

Bald eagle!

I stood there, transfixed, for a few minutes, until it suddenly flew away. I've seen a bald eagle flying away on countless times- movies, commercials, shows, etc. but it's even better in person.

Eventually I made my way to a small stretch of the river where I'd had the most luck in past outings. I don't know what it was about this stretch, but there always seemed to be a smallie there waiting for me. What's even weirder is there's almost no current, no change in bottom composition, no holes (that I know of) and it's not particularly close to any seams or riffles. Does that mean it's a pool? I'm still foggy on the nomenclature for these things.

I worked my little white twister tail all around, trying to cover the whole area. And then, BAM there was a fish on my line! I could tell as soon as I felt it that it was a much bigger fish than the previous one... Maybe even bigger than any other smallie I'd caught. I caught a glimpse of it in the water, and it was confirmed- big.

Where the other fish fought by swimming in circles, this bigger fish used it's brute strength. It zigged and zagged, and not very quickly either, almost casually trying to get away. I kept the tension, my rod tip bent over, and all I could think was "keep it on, keep it on, holy crap, keep it on!" As I brought it closer to the surface I saw it's whole body, and wanted even more to land it! This was almost certainly the biggest fish I'd hooked on the Fox.

I was standing about 10 feet from shore- I carefully moved toward the shore, easing the big fish to the shore as well. I didn't want to loose it. Then in one fell swoop, I reached down and lipped it. I won the battle! Two for two. And this was a beauty!

I kneeled on the shore, admiring my catch. It had ferocious red eyes, and it glared at me (in anger? or confusion?) It had a big belly, and was a lot heavier than it looked. It reminded me of good produce- it should be heavier than it looks. This was an awesome fish, and although I was happy with my first fish of the way, I was ecstatic with this hog.

Ok, I need to weigh it... And then I realized my brand new boga grip was in my garage, for some reason I didn't bring it. Damn! Well I wouldn't be able to get a weight... I held the monster up to my rod so I could measure later. I had no idea how long it was, but it was most certainly the biggest smallmouth bass I'd ever caught. (Later I measured on my rod, and I estimate the fish at 16-17" long)

The fish in one hand, my iphone in the other, I scanned through my apps looking for that one photo app that has the picture timer on it. I wanted to get a shot of me holding the fish properly! No can-do, apparently I'd deleted it. Damn again! It occurred to me I could take a video, then grab a screen shot for a picture. I started recording, set my phone on some rocks, and very geekily filmed my catch.

Turns out this is my first fishing video! Maybe I should do more of these, maybe score them with some CB music as well... More on that later. Watching the video now the fish looks much smaller than it did on the river, but maybe that's how it goes. It looks much beefier in this picture:

Big fish (for me) on the Fox

After making the video, I brought the fish back to the water, held it there for bit to make sure it was ok. After a few seconds, it knew what was happening and casually swam out of my hands, away from this jerk who stuck it with a hook. Watching it swim away, I thought how crazy it was a big fish would want to eat such a small lure. I guess trout are like that too. Very strange. When I'm hungry, I want a big ol' pile of food!

I continued fishing, but I was already completely satisfied. I'd had so many recent outings without so much as a bite, I was overjoyed to have two nice fish in one morning. I didn't end up catching anything else, but did revisit the spot where I caught my first 2011 smallie. Every time I come here, I wonder how part of a car ended up on the riverbank.

How? Why?

Later that day I made my first visit to Beck Lake in my kayak. It was incredibly windy, incredibly cold, and nobody was catching anything.

Not much to say about it- the highlight of the evening was when the wind pushed me close to shore. I turned and found myself face to face with a beaver, sitting on the shore motionless, about a foot from my head.

In case you didn't get enough of her before

A Couple Fish on the Fox

EDIT: Originally I thought the fish I caught were smallies, but upon discussion with WCF members, maybe they are spotted bass! That counts as a new species for me!


If even a year ago you told me that I would be regularly getting up at 4am, gleefully I might add, I would have said you were insane. The idea that I will- completely on purpose- set my alarm to such a small number still confounds me. Even knowing full well that I could easily face the skunk, no pictures of me holding fish to post. But I do know with some certainty that I will have some kind of misadventure while I'm trying to catch fish, and maybe that is part of the appeal.

Nah, I just want to catch me some fish!

Saturday morning, as I heated up some oatmeal in the microwave, this song suddenly got stuck in my head:

I backed out of the driveway at 4:28am, the racing green mini containing my fishing supplies. I was bringing my gear in a backpack, and this time only a single rod. Carrying two rods through the thick foliage last weekend was a challenge.

I turned on the radio and the country song stuck in my head was immediately drowned out by the thick grooves of Fela Kuti, who some call the African James brown. Turns out they were doing some kind of Fela show, so my entire journey to the fox was underscored by raw Nigerian funk. As I drove I thought about how much I love the music of Fela Kuti- and country music too. I should make some music soon.

Got to the spot, stumbled out of the car, and wandered off into the darkness.

I made a beeline to the unpaved path that appeared to become swallowed by the trees; but I knew better. I'd seen it in daylight, and knew it lead to the water. I wouldn't be aimlessly hiking in the dark THIS time.

I wasn't super familiar with the river, or even rivers in general, but the water level definitely seemed low. I was able to walk out 40' into the river, my sturdy LL Bean boots gripping the rocks. There wasn't even water flowing over the rocks- it looked like a temporary peninsula, which I was sure would disappear after an adequate rain.

I turned off my headlamp, and took in the complete darkness, accompanied by the incredibly soothing sound of gurgling water. The moon- which was being what I think is called a waxing gibbous - provided just enough light for me to get my rod ready.

I wasn't sure what smallies liked in the dark, but I knew largemouths went for black spinnerbaits in low light conditions. I tied one on and began casting.

One of the best things about being out and about before the sun is up is that you get to watch it rise. Although I couldn't see the sun itself, I could see it's light slowly bursting onto the scene, illuminating the colorful trees one leaf at a time. I saw some movement upstream, and I saw the most deer I'd ever seen. At least 20 deer were crossing the river, stopping every few steps and glancing in my direction. Apparently I was far enough away not to bother them, and they didn't seem to mind me taking some pictures.

Deer crossing the river

Now that it was light, I switched to 4" white twister tails on what I think were 1/16oz jigheads. Last week i had great success with the white grubs, and based on some advice from the friendly folks at windycityfishing.com i downsized my jig weight hoping to avoid as many hangups.

I worked my way upstream, casting in what I thought were likely locations. I didn't see any baitfish, so I kept moving. After field testing my new boots the previous weekend, I felt more confident in my steps. To avoid downed trees, I simply walked through the water. I had my eye on a pair of waders, but being so late in the season, i figured they might make a nice Christmas gift. Hint hint, wife!

I still couldn't locate any little fish smallies might want to eat, so I focused on trying to read the river. I looked at visible rocks and what effect they had on the surface, trying to extrapolate which ripples farther out were caused by rocks, which in turn might hold smallies.

But really, I just blindly casted. I did the best I could, casting where I thought they might be... but it's entirely possible I was a foot or two off, missing a 20" bass every cast. That's ok- after enough trips like this, maybe I'll have amassed some experience, which probably trumps reading about reading rivers on the Internet.

Standing in the middle of the river

Farther up the river I found myself staring at a mini-rapids, filled with a huge variety of different speed water, pools, water rushing over rocks, next to water somehow flowing backwards... This seems promising, I thought, stepping out in the running water. One of these things might be one of the places I'm supposed to look for fish. The water rushed around my feet, immediately flowing over the top of my boots, soaking my socks. Disregarding my discomfort, I kept on fishing.

There were no fish there, I concluded, after exploring every foot of the area with my jig. Upstream, I saw a guy fly fishing. Looked like he had some nice waders. I wonder what he was fishing for.. Can you catch smallies on a fly? Are there trout here!? From what I understand, you can catch most fish on the fly, but I hadn't heard of many smallie chasers who preferred a fly rig. There's so much I don't know about fishing, even after spending all of my free time trying to learn about it!

I decided to move downstream, toward where I parked. Maybe I could find some nice fish in the spots that produced fish last weekend. It really seems the most difficult thing with fishing, at least with bass fishing, is finding the damn fish. Once I know where they are, at least I don't have the constant urge to move to a different spot.

Salmon fishing might be different- just cast and cast and cast until one gets mad enough to attack your lure. Since I still haven't hooked into one, this is obviously still a mystery to me.

It walked along the path in my bulky, now dripping wet boots. Still no baitfish. I saw a shallow rock bridge leading to a promising looking island- maybe they are over there, said the desperate voice in my head.

I splashed through the water, unsuccessfully trying not to splash the water, and found myself on the island (which I thought was a peninsula, more on that later...) It looked like normally this is cut off from land, but due to the water level I was able to walk to it. Like Alaska and Russia, or something.

I worked my way along the coast, casting, my lovely wife texting for a fish count. I could have texted back a high number, but then I would have needed proof in the form of pictures. And you probably shouldn't lie to your wife.

Continuing along the coast, I suddenly realized that this was NOT a peninsula, but an island! Following the shore back upstream, I struggled to find a suitable path. Scanning the forest, I stepped and instantly found myself up the thighs* in the mud. Slowly sinking the rest of the way.

* Slight exaggeration, as you can tell by the picture below

For about 10 seconds I pictured my body being discovered by Bones or CSI, encased in the mud for generations. Snapping out if it, I reached for a nearby tree, and hoisted myself out of the mud with a loud squelching sound. I looked down at my boots, completely incased in a thick layer of dark brown camouflage. There was so much profanity happening in my head I'm surprised it didn't leak out and scare all the birds away. But it didn't, and they continued to chirp mockingly.

My boots, with mud camo

I eventually made my way back to the land bridge, and found myself back on the shore. No more aimless wandering, no more empty iphone photo library. On a mission, I quickly headed down the path, scanning the shore as I walked.

And then, I saw them. Wakes in the water, just a few feet from shore that I knew were fish. I've learned a lot from fishing the pond by my house- from my spot I can see the fish and how they swim, and what effect their streamlined bodies have on the top of the water. It's nice to be able to apply knowledge! Looking at the water here on the Fox, I wasn't sure whether the wakes were tiny baitfish or larger predators. There was almost no current at this spot, and the water seemed to be about a foot deep. Seemed like an unlikely spot, but nonetheless I saw the wakes of fish and knew they were there.

I cast my twister and jig just past a small pile of branches- the same pile of branches that gave me two smallies for my fishing photo album the previous weekend.

And then, on the second cast, the water erupted and a very nice smallmouth bass burst out of the water, doing somersaults in the air, my lure lightly attached to its lip. Its acrobatics were enough to throw the hook, but the adrenaline rush coursed through my veins telling me to recast quickly! So i found them! That was a good start.

A few casts later, a little fella latches onto the end of my line. I quickly bring him to shore, wanting some proof that I actually caught a fish today.

first fish of the day

He looked a lot like a largemouth to me, but his mouth didn't seem to extend past his eye... So I guess it was a smallie? Even simple fish identification still escapes me.. But at least I hadn't gotten skunked.

A few minutes later I pull out an even smaller fish, who immediately resigned himself to capture, not even putting up a fight. Looking at this fish, it looks even more like a largemouth to me. The pronounced lateral line, the light green coloring, the mouth that seems to extend past the eye. I know largies like slackwater and weeds, but I thought they were uncommon in the fox. If the fish I was holding was in fact a largemouth, maybe that counts for something!

I continued casting, my line getting tangled in the low hanging branches of some kind of berry tree. Each time I got it free, I found my fingers covered in blue berry juice.

Apparently there were only two fish there, because another half hour of casting wasn't enough to produce any more bass. I headed downstream, toward the spot where I caught my very first smallmouth. (well, of 2011.)

I emerged from the forest and immediately banged my knee- hard- on a pipe sticking out of the ground. It was hidden by tall grasses. I'm pretty sure some of the colorful language leaked out at that point.

I looked toward the shore and saw some people hanging out with rods propped up, lines in the water. I greeted them and asked what they were fishing for, but I don't think they understood what I was asking. Unfortunately they weren't speaking Spanish, which I could have used to communicate, they seemed to be speaking Russian or polish or something like that.

They said they were using worms, and pulled a stringer out of the water that had 2 medium sized carp and one catfish on it. Nice! Although many people wouldn't consider those prize fish, I was happy that they were catching fish. I was also happy they didn't have any smallies on the stringer. Some people seem to look down on people who fish to eat, but if the fish are legal size it is completely within their rights. And when you think about it, it is actually a little strafe to fish just for the sport, and throw back good-tasting fresh-caught fish. Seems like pretty much everywhere else in the world, you fish to eat.. Not everyone has the luxury of grocery stores and fish counters everywhere.

Although I'm not interested in eating carp or catfish- at least today- I respect those who do; we are all enjoying the outdoors and getting different things out of it.

Wishing them good luck, I went back into the forest, tripping on a branch and landing in the mud. Ok, this was the theme of the day.

I couldn't find any more baitfish, or even workable shoreline- I didn't want to walk out into deeper water, refilling my boots with water, so I found a path and continued south. I came to a bench at an overlook, about 20' above the water. I tried casting from my perch, but it wasn't really feasable. Walking through the forest again, I found what looked like a dry creekbed, which I figured would lead down to the river.

I was right- I made it to a nice rocky shoreline, and cast there for a while. A kayaker paddled by, wishing me luck. The river was beautiful- full of birds, the morning sun painting everything with a warm yellow hue, the sound of bubbling water, the splash of my lure, the sound of my reel as I turned the handle.

I didn't catch any more fish, but it was a great morning to be out. I hiked back to my car, and saw some turtles sunning themselves in a small pond.

Turtles in a half shell

I made a few casts with my black scum frog, only to lose it to some tree branches. With that, I returned to the path and headed to my car. I stripped down to my t-shirt and underwear - everything else was soaked and/or covered in mud - and loaded the trunk. I sat down in the driver's seat, started the car, and headed out. As I pushed the accelerator with my bare foot, I vowed to return to some water this weekend and catch some more fish. I also turned on the heat, cause my feet were cold.

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

I'm Obsessed

Geese at the spot

Didn't have time to hit up my new spot on the way to work this morning, but I did give it a once over to check water levels, weeds, etc. I have nightcrawlers in my backpack, just in case I have some time to hit up some water today. There were some geese hanging out at my spot. I saw them last evening too; I wonder if they are there because they eat the fish, or because there's water to swim in, or because the grass has lots of tasty bugs... I need to learn more about birds!

I also need to learn more about the trout and salmon that swim around lake michigan, because I DEFINITELY want to hook into some of those guys! I caught those 3 rainbow trout at burnham a few weeks ago, and they fought harder than any fish I'd ever caught. Maybe that's why those fly fishermen love trout so much. And they're tasty to boot.

amazing! this guy is my hero
check out his blog here

There are some pretty amazing posts on windycityfishing.com of fall and winter salmon/trout fishing on the lake. Check this out- caught by GEO at Northerly Island - which is 15 minutes from my work. (Click here to view the full report)

At this point I'm pretty obsessed with fishing- I'm wondering if I'll calm down about it once winter hits, when my open water fishing opportunities become much more limited. But it seems like a lot of guys can catch perch, salmon, and trout from shore throughout the winter. That's bad news for my other interests!

I'm tentatively planning on gearing up "music-making" season in the next few weeks, transitioning from all-fishing all-the-time to a nice balance of recreational creative music-making and some fishing. Maybe some smallie fishing... or maybe some salmon and trout fishing... Whups, there I go again. Maybe the cure is to fish MORE! Maybe I'll get tired of it.

If so, I might get cured soon! Planning on hitting up the Fox this weekend, hopefully for some smallie; the weekend after that my lovely wife and I are heading to Flint, Michigan to hang with my family and do some fishing. This will be our third annual "fishing trip;" we rent a pontoon boat, hit Lake Nepessing, Lappeer, MI, and catch a lot of sunfish. Maybe we'll get into some bass, or maybe even pike this year!

Beautiful Lake Nepessing, Lapeer, MI - Fall 2010

Journey to the Edge of Chicago

the edge of Chicago

Decided to go check out Northerly Island at lunch. I've heard of some big fish caught on the south side as well as the lake side. I'd really like to catch some trout or salmon this fall, and apparently this is one of the places to do it. Discovered that I can get on the #130 bus from very close to work, that takes me all the way to the planetarium. The other end of the #130 route is Union station, which is super convenient: a straight shot from Union to Burnham Harbor. Awesome!

Anyway, I walked along the west edge of Northerly until there was no more path, just rocks. I fished a little bit- some bites, but nothing major. Didn't land anything except a solitary goby. I threw my amazing magical green tube jig, jig with white mr. twister, and some other various lures. I also had cooked salad shrimp - strange, I know - but hey, it catches fish! Sometimes.

some geese I saw

No non-gobies were interested, and I couldn't blame them.. It was the hottest part of the day, barely a cloud in the sky, and the most boat traffic I've ever seen! But you'd think fish who hang out there would be used to it. The air show jets were practicing again, creating extremely loud booming and explosion sounds as they flew around.. I have it on good authority that's what shut off the bite on the river yesterday.

I wanted to walk to the east side, the lake side, but couldn't quite figure out how to do it. I climbed the wall and hiked through the grass, brambles, and flowers until I got to a bike path. When I turned around to see where I came from, I saw a sign that said "Restoring prairie, please stay on the path." I felt really bad! I didn't think the peninsula was developed at all, but clearly they're trying to make it into a nice nature-preserve type area. I noticed a lot of bicyclists and people walking, enjoying the very nature-y area with the very urban-y backdrop of downtown Chicago.

there's the path

I followed the bike path, but according to google maps it never actually went to the shore. When I squinted, I could kind of see a little tiny foot path in the satellite photos that went all the way to the rocky shore... So I walked north until my blue dot in Maps was due west of the path, then I walked due east. Sure enough, extremely hidden in the tall prairie grass, was a path not a foot wide. It's funny that I couldn't find it with my eyes, but it was clearly visible by satellite. There were some rocks on either side of it, delineating the path. Awesome!

I made my way down the path, which at this point felt a lot like hiking. If you count this experience, this would only be my third time hiking, ever. I like the outdoors now! After about a minute of walking, the grass opened up to piles and piles of rocks, beyond which was the lake. There was a very strange area between the grass and the rocks that seemed very post-apocalyptic to me, with some manholes, dirt, rebar, and lots of what looked like sidewalk chunks.

Chicago after the zombie uprising?

Finally I got to the lake, and it was great! The water was very blue, the sound of the waves was great, and there were what seemed like hundreds of sailboats and motorboats and jetskis and dinghys all over the lake all the way to the horizon. To my far right I could see (I think) Northwest Indiana, and a cloud of brown haze over everything in that direction. That sucks.

I fished a little bit, got no bites. I noticed to my left the penninsula jutted out to a point. The internet has told me a good place to find fish is points, so I decided to move. I followed the path along the shoreline, and got to the point.

The waves here were CRAZY big, and there were very big boulders? sidewalk pieces? strewn about on land and in the water. There were sun-bleached wood beams jutting out the water, I wondered if this used to be a pier. In quick succession I lost 3 lures caught on either rocks, rebar, or who knows what else. I enjoyed the scenery for a minute, and decided to head back toward Burnham, and maybe I could catch that catfish I saw swimming around today... it looked like the same one I caught last week.

thanks for saving me from the skunk,
Mr. Rock Bass

Made my way back to the water on the west side of Northerly (aka the marina) and my catfish friend was nowhere to be found. I did see some small fish swimming around. I always learn a lot fishing when I can see how the fish react to my presentation, even when they're small. It was enlightening; with shrimp the fish would swarm and eat it no matter what, with white twister tails they would only be interested if it was moving. Makes sense! Surprisingly, out of nowhere a rock bass busted in the middle of all the gobies and took my bait.

At this point, I'd been in direct sun for quite a while, and I was sweating profusely. The fish were doing the smart thing, chilling out in the shadows, I should do the same. 

I packed up my stuff and walked back to the #130 bus stop, and headed back. It seemed like I had left civilization for a while, and visited the remnants of some bombed-out and overgrown Chicago... I was glad to be back in town, even though I never really left. I was also glad to have caught at least one somewhat respectable fish! Thanks rock bass, I can always count on you.

the surreal view from Notherly Island