Evening wade on a lovely little river

Near Salt Creek, 9pm

I'm a little obsessed with Salt Creek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another Salt Creek bass

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

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

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

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

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

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

24" Catfish caught on topwater! And a nice largemouth

Leo and his first Illinois fish

After we consumed many huge slices of Chicago-style deep dish pizza, Leo suggested we go back out to fish. It was about 10 or 10:30pm I think, but it seemed like a great idea to me. I put my long underwear and warm clothes back on, we grabbed our gear from the mini, and walked off into the darkness headed for the pond.

I've fished the retention pond many many times, often on the way to or from the train on my commute.. But I'd never fished it at night. It was about 45°F outside, a little bit of light coming from the waxing (?) moon, but we had a headlamp and a flashlight between us. After a short 1/2 mile walk, we arrived at the spot- really the only access to the pond not protected by a thick wall of tall grasses - and began casting. Leo stood on the pipe - the prime spot on the pond, and I stood a little to the left, on what I think is a pipe that the other way. The other day I'd seen water running into it, which was a new thing.

I knew there were many many bass in the pond, and hoped Leo could hook into some! A silver roostertail on the end of his line, he began casting. I opened my tacklebox to choose my weapon- I found my go-to night-fishing lure: a big black spinnerbait. As I was tying a big'ol' palomar knot, I heard splashes and saw Leo had a fish on. I dropped my rod and turned on my headlamp, and ran over to Leo and his fish.

Leo unhooking his catch in the dark

After a short fight, he got it out of the water. A bass! Not the biggest largemouth to come out of there, but definitely not the smallest (I had the dubious honor of catching the smallest a few days back - that 4" largemouth that took my homemade inline spinner). It's always hard taking pictures in the dark, but of course we always have to document each catch. Leo's first Illinois fish! It was also his first fish on an inline spinner. This pond is good for firsts- I was so happy Leo got a fish, and his $5 for a 24 hour fishing license had been put to good use.

I began casting the black spinnerbait into the darkness, waiting for the plop and then reeling it in. Leo mentioned how strange it is not being able to see your lure or where it lands. Night fishing is a strange thing. A few months ago I snuck into a secret location, threw a very similar black spinnerbait and hooked into the biggest bass I'd ever seen. Fighting it in the dark (this was before I had a headlamp) was a strange and new experience for me, and it was relatively difficult. I ended up landing the beast, and taking a few subpar pictures of it on my iPhone camera.

Back to the pond, I was quickly tiring of cleaning off pounds of weeds from my spinner. I decided to switch to topwater, mostly to avoid all the weeds below the surface. I also knew that topwater could be a successful night-fishing technique, but never had too much luck with it. I grabbed my white and blue jitterbug (I had the black one somewhere and would have chosen that, but couldn't find it just then) and tied it to my line. At least that would float on the top and avoid all the weeds! Maybe it would catch a nice bass too.

Leo switched to a nightcrawler under a bobber, in the hopes of catching something else- perhaps a bluegill (which I hadn't seen here in weeks) or a catfish. I'd heard there were catfish in there, but I'd never caught any or seen any swimming around in the dirty brown water. Perhaps they'd come out at night?

I cast out my jitterbug, waited about 10-15 seconds, then slowly reeled it in, stopping it every few feet and letting it sit. Leo casted out his crawler-bobber rig right in front of the pipe. We were astonished nothing was biting it! As we talked about the lack of action with the live bait, I absent-mindedly cast my jitterbug out, letting it sit motionless for long periods of time because I was staring at Leo's bobber. It didn't make sense- where did all the bluegill go? Why weren't any bass taking the nightcrawler? Weren't there supposed to be catfish out at night? It was strange. I began to get sleepy, losing focus, and thinking about my belly full of delicious Giordano's pizza.

There was an incredibly huge splash to my left, out in the water- "Whoa!!" I yelled. So there were fish here! I was excited that there was some activity, and even more excited when I heard my drag screaming and realized whatever caused the splash was on the end of my line. "Fish! Fish! FISH!" I yelled. My drag filled the air with agonizing sounds of its buzzing, the monster on my line thrashing around, jumping, like a cannonball being repeatedly dropped in the water. My heart raced, I was suddenly completely awake. I hoped my 10 pound line wouldn't snap, and the monster fish wouldn't throw the hook.

"Please don't throw the hook, please don't throw the hook," I said, not sure if I said it out loud or not.

I brought in the fish closer, my rod becoming a horseshoe instead of a straight line. At first I thought this was a big largemouth, but the way it was fighting was not like other largemouths. And it was strong- VERY strong. I strained to see the fish, but my leadlamp was off and there was very little ambient light. I couldn't see what it was.

I managed to bring it closer to shore, about 2 feet in front of me, but I paused before lifting it out of the water. I still couldn't tell what kind of fish it was. I was seriously worried my line - or rod!- would break as soon as I pulled up to get this guy out of the water. Throwing caution to the wind, I lifted my rod up, feeling the full weight of this beast on my line, and successfully got the fish on land. Normally I try not to let fish touch the ground, lest their protective slime coating get brushed off - I want these fish to survive, and grow bigger! I wasn't prepared for the weight of this fish, and it dropped down onto the ground.

Even now, as Leo hurried over with a flashlight, I still didn't know what it was. My best guess was still a big bass.. And then Leo shined his light on the fish I'd just caught:

Catfish!!
Note the size of the jitterbug. This was a big fish, at least for me

A catfish!!!????

I was shocked. I thought back to my jitterbug- a topwater lure that floats on the surface. I let it sit, motionless, for at least 20-30 seconds as I stared over at Leo's bobber. I wasn't providing any action to the lure, and that's when the fish struck! Not only that, but everything I knew about catfish is they have a tremendous sense of smell and taste, prefer real bait (dead or alive), and most importantly hang out at the BOTTOM. I knew this pond pretty well- the spot where the cat smashed into my lure was at least 4-5 feet deep, if not more. That meant either the cat was cruising the surface, or was enticed up by my lure. My non-smelly, plastic and metal lure, sitting completely still on the surface. Crazy!

Either way, I'd never heard of anyone catching a catfish on a topwater lure!!

With Leo's help, after a few tense moments we were able to get the treble hooks out of the monster's mouth. We were able to get them out without hurting the fish too much, something I was thankful for considering it was sitting on the ground while we de-hooked it. In my wildest dreams I never thought I would catch a big catfish like this fishing topwater! I had toyed with the idea of doing some catfishing at the pond, but I would have brought some garbage bags or something to set catfish on to remove the hooks.

We stood there admiring the fish. I was incredibly excited, pretty sure I jumped up and down a lot, and a huge amount of celebratory profanity escaped from my mouth.

I didn't have a ruler on me; we positioned Leo's tackle box in such a way that we might be able to figure out the length later... Then I realized I had tape at 24" on my rod. I taped it there a few weeks ago, 24" being the legal limit for northern pike. Perfect!

I held the rod next to the giant catfish, and it turned out to be exactly 24". Awesome!

At this point, I knew what I had to do- I needed to do the classic big catfish pose for the camera! Being mostly a bass fisherman, the way I usually hold fish is by lipping them- I didn't even think about holding the catfish horizontally for the picture- maybe that would have been better for the fish.

At any rate, I reached down, trying to get my fingers inside the gigantic and muscular catfish mouth. Could this be a bad idea? Putting my fingers in its mouth? Ah what the heck. It will make an awesome picture. I finally was able to get my fingers in its mouth, its thick gums like sandpaper, scraping on my thumbs. I lifted it up, and was amazed at its weight- even the biggest bass I'd ever caught I could lift with one hand... I could barely support this guy with two arms!! I had no idea how much it weighed- no scale yet - but it was a lot.

I gave Leo my phone, and he got ready to take a picture... But my headlamp was on, washing out the pictures. I asked him to turn off my headlamp, of course my hands were busy inside the mouth of a huge angry catfish. My headlamp is weird and has a turn knob for the light, and Leo was trying to press the button (which of course does nothing). I was so concerned trying not to drop the fish I couldn't put into words how to turn off my light.

I put down the fish for a minute, turned off the light, and picked it up again. Leo snapped some pictures, we both chuckled, we couldn't wait to show this to our wives!

24" of pond catfish- caught topwater on a jitterbug

Right after the last picture, as if on cue, the fish strongly bit down on my fingers, causing me to drop it into the grass. Its rough mouth ripped into my skin, causing one of my thumbs to start bleeding. I think some more bad words happened around this point.

I had it coming

After hooking the beast with some sharp pointy hooks, dropping it on the ground, and generally greatly inconveniencing this mighty fish, I didn't blame it for biting me. It had every right to bite me, and was surprised it hadn't earlier. In fact, I had it coming to me.

I figured at this point we were even.

Applying pressure to my thumb, the bleeding stopped quickly. It was time to get our friend back into the water. Leo offered to pick up the fish and get it back into the water - I wasn't exactly jumping at the chance to put my smashed fingers back in its mouth. Now that's a real fishing partner. Leo picked up the fish, and carefully returned it to the water. In an instant, with a powerful splash of its muscular tail, it was gone into the dark water.

This fish had been the longest, heaviest fish I'd ever landed.

With Leo's help, we got the hooks out, got some great pictures taken, and returned the fish to the water, seemingly healthy and doing fine. I definitely couldn't have done it alone! I probably wouldn't have left my lure motionless on the surface if it weren't for Leo's bobber. Thanks Leo!

We fished for a while longer, but got no more hits, no more splashes, and no more bass or monster catfish. All in all, a great day fishing; I'm glad Leo talked me into some pond night fishing! As we walked back to my house, I cradled my throbbing thumb, so happy to have a fish-inflicted wound.

I feel like a real fisherman now.

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

Holloway Reservoir, Michigan

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

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

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

5:30am, Holloway Reservoir

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dive-bombing fish-catching machine bird

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike and the first fish of the day

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

2nd - and last- fish of the day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First Burnham Bass

SPOILER ALERT: I caught a bass! It was a hog!

Sprung awake at 4am, quickly made some coffee, got dressed (in that order- priorities!), and checked on my crockpot tamales. They weren't ready yet, so I grabbed something else to eat, put together my gear, put on my headlamp, and hopped on the bike in the darkness. Made it to the station just before the train arrived. Soon I was in the city- which was still dark- and I headed to a bus stop that would take me to Burnham.

on my way to the bus stop at 5:30am

Not wanting to waste any precious fishing time, while I waited for the bus I assembled my rod and tied on a chartreuse spinnerbait. Why not start with something that isn't a tube jig? Hopped on the bus, and a few short minutes later I was at 11th and Columbus, a short walk from the water.

It was hot! I checked the weather, and my phone told me it was 92% humidity. Holy crap.

I began casting, and noticed some fish close to the wall. They were bigger than bluegill or rockbass- they looked like largemouths to me. Awesome! I'd never caught one there. They were clearly not interested in my spinner- whether I jigged it, burned it, or slowly start-and-stop retrieved it, they just watched it go by. I switched to a texas rigged worm, which got me a nice bass last night. Nothing. Switched to a tube. Nothing.

A guy walked past, and asked if I caught anything. I said no, and then he said "Hey look at that, there's a coho right there!" I ran over to where he was - directly over the pipe - and saw a magnificent-looking fish. It looked big, silver and blue colored, and majestic. It was definitely not a carp, or a bass, or anything else I'd ever seen. It was awesome! I'd been doing lots of research on salmon, and it was amazing to finally see one.

He gave me some tips on catching cohos- he suggested big heavy spoons, cranks, and rattle traps, and said I'd have better luck on the other side (north of solidarity drive). The coho was gone, so I packed up my stuff, and headed over, rattle trap tied on. My heart was racing. I figured hooking into a fish like that would probably destroy my little collapsible rod, but I wanted to do it anyway!

Well, no such luck. I set up right at the pipe on the other side, and nobody wanted anything to do with my lure. I did see some more of those same fish, apparently cohos. So awesome looking. I actually had a dream last night I caught one; that's how excited I've been looking at pictures and reading old reports. Big, big, powerful fish.

I tried throwing a few different mepps inline spinners, some cranks... I realized the few spoons I had were in a different box at home. That's what I get for not bring my entire collection of gear with me at all times! I saw some big fish hanging out by the pipe... Some were carp, and I think I saw at least one bass, but there were definitely some fish there I hadn't seen before. Maybe they were salmon....

I tied on a gulp minnow on a red jig, and threw it out. Hey now, I got a fish! Could it be a big 40 pound coho salmon about to give me the fight of my life?

Nope, it was a goby.

only the most talented anglers catch gobies....

Not a tiny one though, and at least I caught a fish. In my book catching a goby is still catching a fish! I wondered what gobies taste like... They're so easy to catch, and nobody wants them in the lake, it seems like the perfect solution would be to catch them all and eat'em! I imagined grilling gobies on skewers, maybe with some peanut sauce on the side. They seem nasty. I bet they taste horrible.

I decided to go back to the pipe, where I knew I could at least catch some rock bass if nothing else was biting. As I walked down the steps, I see two guys fishing. They asked me about the pipe, so I showed them where it was. Actually I wasn't completely sure that's where it was, but after a while we saw water flowing which confirmed my location.

Turns out these were two of CPD's finest, out for some fishin'. Joe and Steve gave me tons of great tips; they fish the area often, apparently usually by McCormick place. They heard about the pipe so they came down to check it out.

Steve had softshell crabs under a bobber, Joe was going through his arsenal of lures, and I threw wacky rigged worms, texas rigged worms, and eventually resorted to my 2" green tube jig. Steve's crabs kept getting eaten by tiny rock bass- he caught one that couldn't have been more than 4" long.

At one point, Joe switched to a 4-5" green tube jig, and saw a bunch of bass right in front of the pipe. They were there, but not interested! I was about 20' to the left of him, doing some tube jigging near some weeds. It's validating to know other serious fishermen use tubes. And then...

BAM! Fish on!

I saw a flash, and I knew it was a bass, and I knew it was a big'un! This was awesome- I hadn't even seen bass here before, let alone hooked into any. Even if he threw the hook- like the one at Busse last sunday- it was still a first for me.

After a very quick fight (I was terrified of losing the fish!) out of the water came the fish, thankfully still attached to my line. A VERY nice largemouth! My first Burnham bass, which I am counting as part of Lake Michigan... so let's just say it's my first Lake Michigan bass.

17" of Burnham Harbor / Lake Michigan largemouth bass
caught on a 2" tube!!

Joe and Steve came over to look- Joe estimated the fish to be about 17" and 2 pounds. I'll take his word for it, that sounded right to me. Amazing! No fish, and then this HOG of a largemouth. Beautiful coloring, a big fat belly, and giant dark eyes.

We noticed some stuff on its belly, Joe guessed it was some kind of parasites. You can kind of see it in the picture.

After Joe was nice enough to snap some pictures for me, I (as carefully as I could from the wall) dropped the fish back into the deep, extremely thankful for its interest in my lure. That's when I realized Joe was using basically the same lure, with no luck. I'll just chalk that up to fickle fish changing their mind about what they want... But either way I was beside myself, so happy to catch such a sweet fish here- 10 minutes from my work.

We continued fishing. Steve's bait kept getting stolen, and Joe cycled through a variety of different lures. At one point he put on some crab as well. The guys gave me tons of tips and suggestions about salmon, baitcasting setups, the best lures, all kinds of stuff. Although I have gotten a wealth of information from the internet and message boards, I especially like talking to other fishermen in person- when they're nice enough to share their secrets. These guys didn't seem to mind I was such a newbie, and were happy to offer their suggestions.

The more they told me, the more I lusted after salmon. I need to use a bigger, stronger rod and reel, and get some more spoons... But I can't even imagine catching a fish like that in downtown chicago. I've heard stories of long fights ending in broken rods or snapped leaders... It's all so epic! These BIG missiles of fish, these predating eating machines, who come in looking for tributaries but settle for battling fishermen.

I stopped daydreaming and came back to reality... I wasn't going to catch a coho or a king today- it was hot, I'm sure the water was hot, and I had to head out anyway. I bid my new fishing buddies farewell, they said I'd see them there again once salmon season started in earnest.

A great morning out on the water, some great new friends, and a big ass fish to use as my facebook profile picture. Fishing is awesome.