Claire caught a monster!

Somehow, Claire and I found ourselves standing in the Fox River at 6:30am on the Fourth of July.

I had planned to go regardless; as any faithful reader knows, I will forgo sleep at the drop of a hat to do some good fishing. The night before, Claire suddenly announced she wanted to go with me. She hesitantly asked what time she'd have to get up. I said 4:30am. She groaned.

We had packed the car, drank our coffee, said goodbye to Walter- standing there, confused to see both of us up so unnaturally early- and hit the road. After a short drive we were now in the river, fishing, just as the sun was coming up.

On Claire's third cast, she got hung up on some rocks, she thought. Then she started yelling "Fish! Fish!" I looked over and saw her light rod doubled down... and heard the drag sending line out to the river. "And it's pulling my line!" I yelled some celebratory profanity and waded over to her as fast as I could.

The fish broke the surface a few times as Claire furiously tried to reel it in. I caught glimpses of a big brown figure in the water. For a moment I wondered if she'd gotten a flathead, but it wasn't fighting like the ones I'd seen. Then I saw the snout of a smallmouth bass, but I wasn't sure how big it was.

I reached behind me, grabbing the new net I got for fly fishing, and scooped up the smallie. As it came out of the water I saw how big it was and probably released some more profanity. Holy crap. This was a big fish!

I was torn between admiration and jealousy for my wife, the big-smallie-catcher. I don't think I'd ever caught a smallie that big on the Fox. I got some nice fish on the Rogue in Michigan, but still. Claire, on her third cast, caught a monster. I lipped it, took out the comparatively tiny jig, and gave it to my lovely wife to hold.

Claire got a biggun

I busted out the tape measure (something I don't often do, but I wanted to know how big this one was) and it measured at least 16". It seemed like it should be longer; perhaps I measured wrong, maybe I have a bad sense of length. Either way it was a giant fish, and both of us were overjoyed. We placed the big fish back in the water, and a few moments later she came to and swam away in the splash of tail I've come to expect. I wiped the water off my glasses.

We celebrated for a moment, I changed to the fish/grub Claire was using, and started casting. We both got some hits, but neither one of us could set the hook. One hit I got, a sharp, single "TAP" cleanly cut off the tail of my twister. Could it have been a walleye? After a while I suggested we move upstream and see if we couldn't find some more fish. Claire reluctantly obliged, not wanting to leave "the promised land" of the big bass.

We worked our way upstream, occasionally getting some hits. I saw a guy fishing on the other side of the river, he was working his way downstream as we went upstream. That stretch of the river is wide enough I couldn't quite make him out, but I had a hunch who it was... based on the particular hat, the cigar...

"Are you Chris?" he shouted across the river. I said I was.. paused.. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Ken!" he shouted back, working his way toward us. Ken G! Ken G of Waterdog Journal and years of fishing the Fox- the same Ken who uses jigs with white twisters (which accounted for my first Fox smallie).

Claire and I fished our spot as Ken waded over to us. We started to get lots of hits, caught some fish; things were turning on. Ken came over and we met face to face, although in some ways I felt I already knew the guy. We'd exchanged messages and emails; I'd read his blog a lot, and I think he'd read some of mine too. It was good to meet the man behind the posts, so to speak. He asked us what all the shouting had been, and we told him about the big fish. Actually, that's not what he asked... he asked "What was all that 'oh #%^$ oh #%@$' about?" Apparently my voice carries down the river. Ken said he knew it was me by the beard and the laughing.

As we talked, Claire and I had clearly found a good spot to fish- the water on the surface was slightly different in this one particular spot, which is why I first cast there. Hit after hit came from this area, although as before we had some trouble setting our hooks. Ken said there was a dropoff right where we were fishing; some deeper water, apparently stacked up with smallies.

In the next hour or so, I hooked into somewhere around 15 fish and landed 8 or so. I lost count. Claire and Ken hooked into a bunch of fish too. All the fish I got were fairly small, but they didn't know it. It was a great time! Maybe even the best time I'd ever had fishing the Fox.

Pretty little fish

All three of us had issues setting our hooks, but we counted the ones we almost landed. All the smallies I got came from around the same spot, bouncing the 1/16oz jig and chartreuse grub/fish along the bottom, downstream.

After a while, we tried some other spots where baitfish were breaking the surface, but none of the big fish under them wanted to play. Eventually Ken headed back upstream and we headed back to our entry point- where Claire caught the giant. I tried busting out my fly rod, which I'd been carrying on my fancy (and heavy, now filled with river water) fishing backpack. I think I casted ok, at least in terms of hitting my targets, but I definitely have a lot to learn. I switched back to my spinning gear but it seemed the bite had dried up.

Smallie stash

Claire and I called it a day, at least a morning- we hiked back up the trail to our car. As we were leaving Panera I realized I left my fly rod on the grass by the car- we scrambled back to the park, and thankfully it was there.

°°°

On our way home, we stopped by the Dupage to check out the spot where Claire caught so many fish a few weeks back. We saw plenty of green sunfish swimming among the weeds and shadows in the extremely low and clear water... Exploring upstream of the bridge, we found an area that looked amazingly fishy. Right now the water seems too shallow for it to hold many fish, but my guess is with a little more depth that spot will be on fire! I can't wait to come back. I really like exploring new spots, although Claire is usually the one finding the spots.

I lifted up some rocks to see what was under them, and was intrigued to find crawfish scurrying away. Looking at the bottom of the rock, I saw tons of little shiny moving things I could only guess were the larval stage of some river bug. I thought about nymphs in fly fishing, those weird flies I don't quite understand yet. Maybe when these squirming puddles of mud things grew up, they would rise up threw the water, some of them being eaten by hungry river fish. Maybe that's what was up with nymphs...

Slowly wading, not really fishing, I found some really big crawfish. They were very pale, almost white, with pink around their head and claws. I reached down to pick them up, slowly, but not slow enough... With their characteristic backwards jumping move, they escaped my grasp, perhaps only to become some smallie's next meal. It occurred to me I should get some white tubes with pink tentacles for when I return to this spot...

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.

Chris & Claire go fishing

I think I have time to get out a quick post...

Lately my time has been spent making lures, fishing, and working on my upcoming dub album. If you want to hear a few of the tracks, head on over to my tumblr. Once I'm done with all the tracks, I'll post the whole thing on music.chrisbeckstrom.com where you can stream it and download it for free. I'm pretty excited about it- I've been working on it for quite some time, and got some of my buddies to play on it, and they are awesome.

Most of last week I worked outside- my new job is remote, meaning I can pretty much work anywhere there's an internet connection. I work from home, so I've been taking advantage of the patio. Walter loves it, because he gets to hang out with me outside all day. Here's my "office" as of late:

"Please, step into my office. Watch out for the grill"

It's an amazing thing to head out of the "office" over to the grill for my lunch hour to enjoy some delicious grilled meat.

I've been turning out an average of a lure a day, some days three. My carving, sanding, painting, and hardware-adding is getting better and more predictable. I start with 2x4s, cut out the shapes I want, carve them with a little hobby knife, sand them down (sometimes not so well), paint with spray paint, acrylic, and nail polish, and add hardware. Recently I've made a few emulating some vintage lures I've seen- the whole white body red head thing is pretty awesome.

Topwater torpedo-style lure

This one started as a jitterbug clone, but I added a tail
and two propellors for good measure
I'm calling it mousie

..and this one looks pretty nice, but
is a complete failure in the water...
back to the drawing board

This weekend Claire and I did a lot of fishing together. We went to Blackwell Forest Preserve (Silver Lake) for the first time, and really liked it. Very pretty, big hills, awesome. We fished along the shore, then somehow we decided we should keep on walking and continue around the whole shore. Halfway through we realized what a huge distance it was and how we would have to scale an almost vertical path into the woods if we wanted to continue... We turned around and retraced our steps back to the boat launch.

There was a goose standing in the road like a moron, and when a car came up to it the driver honked profusely and yelled "Get off the road a$$&*#!" without a hint of sarcasm.

We went to check out a dog park, and noticed it was very close to the Dupage river. We decided to go and check it out, as neither one of us had ever been to that particular body of water. My first time wet-wading (wading without waders) and I loved it. The cool water was a welcome respite from the 95°F air.

The water was only about a foot deep, and looking at the stretch I guessed if there were fish, they would be hanging out under the bridge where it might be a little deeper and shaded. Turns out I was right! Claire and I fished some brush piles, rocks, and the bridge itself for about an hour. My wife, as I found out, is quite an angler. She caught her first smallie right there under the bridge- and then proceeded to catch 6 more! (Maybe it was 5, don't remember.. I was trying so hard to catch my own smallies, unsuccessfully, I was distracted.)

A nice smallie for a kick-ass wife

I managed to catch 4-5 green sunfish. Claire had the magical touch; she kept pulling out smallie after smallie while I struggled to entice a handful of 3" green sunfish. It was awesome- the water was incredibly clear; even in the dark under the bridge, we could make out every pebble of gravel on the bottom. I saw some crawfish scurry away, which was perhaps another reason the fish were there. Although I didn't do so well in terms of fish caught, it was some of the best fishing ever. Great weather, great company, just super great all around.

The next day, in an effort to avenge my dismal numbers (and explore the lake more fully) we headed back to Silver Lake with our kayaks. After about half an hour of waiting in line, waiting for somebody to come break our $50 bills, and $70 later we had Dupage county boat licenses and were ready to launch.

Almost immediately I got a little largemouth bass on a twister tail; he was hanging out with some bluegill under the shade of some trees in very shallow water. I wondered if he was eating bluegill eggs/fry.

Baby bass

The water was ridiculously clear; we could see very far down into the water. I wondered if that has to do with the lake's beginning as a quarry, or the types of weeds in it, or lack of mud, or what. Earlier in the day I installed a third rod-holder in my kayak, as well as a strap to hold my new fish finder. It was great- paddling around, armed to the teeth with fishing gear, seeing fish hanging out on all the dropoffs- just where I thought they would be.

Couldn't catch any more though; Claire on the other hand was slay'in'em, catching her first two crappies (and first fish in the kayak too!)

Claire's serious angler pose

We're both super impressed with Silver Lake and the whole preserve. It's a bit of a hike for us, but it's worth it. There seem to be a fair amount of fish in it, even if we couldn't catch too many of them. The shockingly clear water is a revelation to me, I can't wait to go back. I know clear water doesn't necessarily equate to clean water, but I think I might come back and do some bluegill fishing. I've got a filet knife that's never seen a fish, and would like to change that sooner than later. Great times with the wife, awesome times exploring new waters.

It's Smallie Time

One of the five smallies I pulled out of one spot

After a great adventure on the Rogue, I decided to get up early again the next morning and head back. I woke up at 4am eastern time (which of course, once again, was 3am my time), made a pot of coffee, and drank it as quickly as possible.

I went out to my car to get going, and I took note of how dark it was. It didn't seem like sunrise was close at all. A quick search on my phone told me sunrise wasn't for more than an hour, and here I was all caffeinated and ready to go. It would only take 30-40 minutes to get to the river, and I wasn't prepared to wade in the dark... So I headed to Meijer.

I may have mentioned Meijer before; it's a Michigan grocery store that sells lots of other stuff. Stuff like clothes, dishes, and fishing gear. It also happens to be open 24 hours a day.

I walked into the Meijer at about 4:15am, the same Meijer where I bought shaving cream and some cologne right before my wedding a couple years ago. Made my way to the back, found the fishing section, grabbed 2 tiny Rooster Tails just like the one Rob let me borrow the previous day. I threw in a bag of beef jerky for good measure.

A short drive later I was at the river, the same place Rob caught the 14" brown. I got into the water and immediately noticed a fish hanging out in very shallow water. I fished it, but it paid no attention. I slowly crept up behind it, coming from downstream; it made no indication it knew I was there.

Amazed, I got closer and closer. It was a trout, but I couldn't tell what kind. There was clearly something wrong with it, because I was a foot behind it and it was just hanging out. Could it have been asleep?

I slowly reached down, stretching out my hands around it... Was this really happening? In a quick movement I closed my hands around the fish, pulled it out of the water; suddenly it woke up and jumped out of my hands back into the water.

Does that count as catching a fish? I kept thinking "did I just catch a fish with my bare hands!?"

I slowly worked my way downstream, throwing spinners, spinners, and other spinners, hoping to entice some trout. I saw them jumping now and then; they were certainly there. After an hour I reached a stretch with deeper and slower water. I couldn't wade through it due to its depth, so I decided to head back to the car and try another spot.

Using my phone's GPS, I located a nice bend in the river a couple miles downstream. I navigated through farmland and some really nice residential areas while sipping my coffee. I mean chugging my coffee. I found a nice gravel area to park, noticed the refreshing lack of "no fishing" and "no parking" signs and headed into the water.

I fished all the spots that seemed fishy, but couldn't find any fish. I did see what I thought was a carp swim upstream, but that was all the action there.

I found another spot and another gravel pull off, and headed down to the water under a bridge. This stretch was closer to the Grand River, and seemed to me to be more smallmouth bass water. Slower current, slightly deeper water; gravel and boulders on the bottom. Standing in the flowing water, very refreshing in the warming morning air, I tried to analyze what I was seeing. Downstream got shallow quick, and the current picked up considerably. Upstream of the bridge seemed to be shallow mud flats, devoid of any structure or current breaks. I concluded if I were a smallmouth bass, I would choose to hang out near the bridge supports in the little eddies.

First cast with my jig and twister, and there was a hit. Not a pan fish tap tap, but a much stronger BAMBAM. Could I have finally found some fish?

Second or third cast I connected with something BIG! After all the trout fishing, it's as if I had forgotten what a big old beefy smallmouth bass felt like (even though I caught one the day before). After a tremendously entertaining fight, I lipped the fish and marveled at its amazing coloration.

In the next two hours, I proceeded to pull out four more smallies and two big rock bass, all on the twister. I tried tossing some tubes, crankbaits, spinners; but they were clearly telling me what they wanted. 1/16oz jig with a 3" white twister tail, smacked right into the bridge supports and falling into the water. Each bass was an amazing fight- they didn't leap out of the water too much, but they were very strong and determined. Most of them swam around me in circles; one even rammed me in the thigh. Since I was so close to shore, I was able to get some nice pictures by propping up my phone and setting a picture timer.

Look at those colors!

I worked every support, and they all pretty much had fish. After a while it seemed I had "tagged" all the fish in the area, and doubted there would be fish anywhere else nearby judging by the lack of structure and type of current. But what do I know, I could have missed even more! The fish I caught were bigger and stronger than most of the fish I'd caught on the Fox, and I had a great time catching them. I packed it up, headed back to my car, amazingly and completely satisfied.

He doesn't look big, but he was FAT

Adventures in Canoeing on the Rogue River

The Rogue River, through Rockford to its
mouth at the Grand River (our journey)

This post is tremendously overdue.

Although many details have faded due to the time elapsed (it's been almost two weeks since our trip to Michigan!) I feel obligated to record at least part of the story. As I mentioned recently, things have been pretty crazy. I left my job at Columbia College Chicago, started a new one at ChartCapture, and have spent most of my free time fishing. The idea of sitting back down at the computer has not been appealing to me, so I haven't done it! I sit here now, fueled by a big ol' cup of coffee, hoping to get this little story out there and get my personal fishing records all caught up.

I've mentioned my fishing mentors various times here; Mark, Rob, and Luke. They are the trio who introduced me to fishing, got me hooked, and have provided lots of hints and tips along the way. Almost every time Claire and I head back to Michigan for a birthday, holiday, gig, or whatever, I end up fishing with at least one of these guys.

The last trip to Michigan was no different- at 5am (4am my time) I was at Rob's house, trying to down enough coffee to make sense of things, ready for my first time in a canoe.

Turns out, three people in a canoe may not be ideal. Although I've spent a lot of time in kayaks (in the past two years) I'd never been in a canoe until then. It was hard for me to judge whether canoes are just incredibly unstable, or our canoe shouldn't have really had three big dudes in it. Rob, Mark, and I arrived at the Rogue river before sunrise and started casting. Our quarry was trout, and on one of his first casts Rob landed what turned out to be the nicest fish of the day, a 14" brown. Somehow, the only picture I got of it was right before we ate it a few hours later. It was delicious.

EDIT: I found the "before" picture...

What a nice fish right there

What a great fish: great fight, super pretty colors, very tasty

We hopped in the canoe, paddling downstream with the hopes of covering a lot of water. Almost immediately it was clear it was going to be an adventure; even the smallest set of rapids gave us grief, the canoe pounding the rocks, throwing us off balance, teetering closer and closer to the water. One of our first direct hits jolted the canoe, almost tossing us out into the river. Mark was in front "watching for rocks" (each rock would be announced milliseconds before we slammed into it! it made for exciting canoeing) Rob was in back "steering" (who knows where we were going) and I was in the middle doing my best not to rock the boat. Most of the time I crouched down in the canoe, my knuckles white as snow as I clutched the side, expecting a cold river-water ejection any moment.

We hit a big rock, the canoe tipped to the verge of flipping; Mark fell backwards onto me and his ultralight rod, snapping either the rod or me, I couldn't tell. Turns out it was the rod. I have to give mad props to these two gentlemen; for the amount of trouble we had getting down the river, I don't think I heard a single profanity escape their lips! Me on the other hand, well... Let's just say there were two streams that morning: the river, and what was coming from my mouth.

As the morning went on, Mark and Rob both caught trout on little tiny spinners. I was amazed such small spinners could even be cast, let alone land 8-10" rainbow trout. Rob graciously let me borrow one of his ity-bity spinners, which I tied on with haste. I proceeded to miss what seemed like hundreds of trout taking swipes at my spinner. Some of them launched clear out of the water, but none of them connected.

It was exciting and frustrating. I varied my retrieves, faster, slower, faster still; and finally somehow managed to hook my first fish of the day. Before a picture could be taken, the little rainbow propelled itself out of my hands and returned to the water. Soon after that I landed my first brown trout that wasn't a tiny 5" juvenile. Rob came over to document the moment for me; he also documented the exact moment the little brown decided it was time to return to the water, as I desperately tried to keep it in my hands.

Check out that pretty little brown!

..and then it released itself

Great! I caught a brown trout, something that is more or less impossible in Illinois (you can catch them in Lake Michigan, but I've never been able to).

We headed downstream, my knuckles burning from gripping the canoe so tightly, Mark's still functioning malformed and broken rod still able to catch fish, Rob trying to disguise his worry every time we heard scraping and breaking sounds come from the bottom of the canoe... It was a great time. Between rapids I shoved beef jerky and trail mix in my mouth. It was good I wasn't paddling; I would have definitely put us all in the water.

Every time we encountered a fishy spot, we hopped out of the canoe and fished it. As the day went on and wives inquired to our location, we realized we didn't know where we were. My phone had no service; Mark and Rob had partial service. We realized we had a long way to go, and decided to push down the river in earnest.

One of the two rainbows I caught that morning

As we headed downstream, I was amazed how the character of the river changed from stretch to stretch. Some places shallow and rocky with fast current, others deeper sand flats, others rocks and gravel and sand with slower current, others just mud. Astounded would be too light a word to describe how I felt about the water clarity; for the most part I could see completely to the bottom through the gin-clear water. It was awesome.

At one point we reached a set of rapids clearly too much for our overloaded boat. I got out to carry some gear through the forest while Mark and Rob- expert canoe-ists- managed the rapids. I filmed their journey with my camera, but upon later viewing it was clear what the camera saw and they experienced were too different things. What shows up as a .mov file on my computer looks like an easy float downstream I'm sure caused their lives to flash before their eyes.

We desperately paddled (by we I mean they, since I was on canoe-clutching duty sitting in the middle) as the clock ticked and the day aged. Rob suggested I cast a bit while we canoed, so I did. We reached an area that looked like smallie territory, and Rob confirmed indeed it was. Smallies and trout, in one river? My mind exploded a little, but it didn't stop me from casting. Every so often Mark or Rob would point out a particular spot, I'd cast there, hopefully not catching my lure on anything. There was one close call with a tube jig: I had to cut the line or else the force of the canoe might have pulled the rod out of my hands!

As we floated down river, I cast to a spot Rob suggested and immediately hooked into a fish- I yelled "Fish!" My fishing partners put the brakes on the boat as I fought with a small monster- a monster I'm much more familiar with than those Michigan trout... I pulled out a very nice Michigan smallmouth bass on my go-to white twister tail.

Check out those colors

That fish was enough to halt our journey; the other two guys jumped out of the canoe and started fishing. Almost right away I connected with another fish, and a few casts later got him to commit. Thanks to Mark for manning the camera!

Big ol' rock bass from the Rogue River

A few minutes later Rob landed a smallie as well, but I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge how much bigger mine was. I've learned a lot from my fishing mentors, including how to give each other &$%# for their tiny fish.

Rob and an ok smallie (just kidding, it was great)

Pretty soon it was time to head out. We passed a lot more fishy looking spots that almost certainly held fish, but we were already more than an hour behind schedule. Somebody had underestimated the length of our journey. (I'm talking to you Rob!) Not that I'm complaining, I thought it was great. I could have fished that river all day.

When all was said and done, we had traveled more than 7 miles on the Rogue River, caught a bunch of fish, almost died about twenty times, one of us got a leech on his leg (hint: it wasn't me), and we created some real nice memories. They will stay with us for a long time, maybe even longer than the deep gouges on the canoe.

A very short post

The other night I went to Mallard Lake, the scene of the crime so to speak for my first walleye. Worked some areas, nothing, nobody else caught anything. Then I threw out my white jig and twister, this guy jumped a foot out of the water.

30 minutes, 1 fish.. not bad

Yesterday afternoon I investigated the west branch of the Dupage river which flows through Mallard. Took about half an hour to find a place to park anywhere close to the river. When I got there it was about 4 inches deep, a carp was hanging out in some weeds.

Last night I didn't fish after work... But by 7pm I was bored and decided to go fish the pond for an hour before River Monsters came on. I got to the pond, there must have been 6 dudes standing on the shore fising. What!!??

I headed to Songbird Slough, about 5 minutes from there, and fished for about 45 minutes. Tried everything, no fish. I got a very strange hit on my jig and twister; in my head I thought it was a walleye, definitely didn't feel like a bass. Couldn't get it to happen again.

I'm extremely obsessed with fishing.

Here's what the sunset looked like as I was leaving to go home and watch Jeremy Wade battle giant catfish and eels and stuff:

Sunset at Songbird Slough

My first walleye!

I've been wanting to catch and eat some fish for quite some time, but it never works out. If I catch some eating-quality bluegill, I have to go to work and don't have a cooler. If I have a cooler, nobody bites. In an effort to try and catch some food, I made my first trip to Mallard Lake Monday evening.

I was sure that nightcrawlers under a bobber would do the trick, but all I caught were 3" gills. Perhaps all the eating sized ones have been harvested already, perhaps many others have had the same idea I did. Perhaps I shouldn't even eat fish from Mallard, or any other forest preserve lake...

While I had crawlers under the bobber, I threw out one of my favorite go-to lures, the white jig and twister. It really seems like under the right circumstances, that lure can catch anything that swims. All of the sudden I got a hit, another hit, bumpbumpbump, and I had a fish on! When I reeled it in I wasn't sure it was still on, but turns out it was just very small. My first Mallard fish, and my first perch of 2012! Not quite eating size though.... but I was excited to catch it!

Perch!

I've read perch travel in schools, so if there's one there may be more. I continued casting, hoping to find some bigger perch. A few casts later, I got a completely different kind of hit. It felt like branches, and then nothing. I wondered if I'd lost it... When I reeled in I knew almost immediately what it was, and to say I was overjoyed would be a huge understatement.

My first walleye!

I'm pretty sure I shouted "WALLEYE!!!" at the top of my lungs, and everybody on the path stopped and looked at me. That's ok, they should know how excited I was to finally catch a walleye.

Was it the tiniest walleye I could possibly imagine? Yes.
If I dropped it in the grass would it disappear due to it's diminutive size? Absolutely.
Did I care? Not in the least.

One of my main fishing goals for the year was to catch a walleye, and I did it. I admired its ferocious teeth and amazing coloring, forgetting about it's spiked gill plates. It didn't draw blood, but almost.

I took a few pictures, thanked it for letting me catch it, and carefully released it back into the water.

I'm still excited about catching this little guy

Rivers, creeks, ponds and lakes

Deer crossing the Fox

I've been keeping a little log of my fishing adventures this year. Each time I head out fishing, I add a line to the little text file with the date, location, number of fish caught, and what I used. It's been pretty interested to see my catch rate improve drastically since January 5, which was my first outing of the year. This is how I know that, at the time of this "writing," I've been out fishing 80 times this year. 80 times! I'm clearly obsessed. But that is generally how I roll; it's rare I just like something and that's the end of it. When I like something, I like it a lot and tend to do whatever it is a bunch. As the weather gets nicer and nicer I can only imagine I'll be out fishing more and more! (If you're reading this on cbfishes.blogspot.com, you can see my "species scoreboard" to the right: all the fish I've caught this year to date.)

Since my last post, I've fished 7 more times! At this rate, I certainly can't write a novella about each little fishing adventure. As much as I tend to ramble and write long accounts of every detail of each trip, I simply can't allow myself that luxury every time. I don't want to bore anybody reading this either! To that end, I'm going to try to keep this post nice and succinct.

First fish of the morning
(looks like it has some battle scars)

Thanks to the NATO summit in downtown Chicago, I had both Friday and Monday off. Friday morning I got up well before sunrise, loaded the car, and was in the Fox River as the sun rose. I really enjoy being outside anytime, but especially like that period of time right around sunrise. Everything is getting started, animals are doing their thing, things are quiet. I tend to beat most fishermen to the water when I fish that early, and I like having the river to myself. Birds and fish and deer and bugs excluded; the river is always theirs.

Second smallie of the day

After a very informative series of posts on Windy City Fishing about the smallmouth bass spawn, I wanted to avoid specifically fishing spawning females. I want to ensure future generations of giant smallies. Also, I wanted to try fishing areas with more current. The past few outings on the Fox my inexperienced legs have been no match for the relentless flow, but the river has calmed down as of late.

A few feet from shore, about a foot from fast current and hanging out in the slightly slower water, I pulled out two (male?) smallies and a surprising green sunfish. I hadn't caught anything but smallmouth bass in the Fox until then, and I like catching lots of species! All three fish were caught
on a good old jig and twister. A question comes to mind as I write this: are pumpkinseeds and green sunfish the same thing? I'll have to figure that out since I seem to be pretty good at catching them, whatever they're called.

My first non-smallie catch on the Fox

As much as I enjoy fishing for bigger fish, I'd be lying if I said I didn't love catching any fish regardless of size. Although those bigger females put up quite a fight, the smaller males don't just sit there. And river fish seem to always have more fight in them than still water fish, at least in my limited experience. I fished for a while, then decided to hit the road and look for a new spot.

I've been wanting to explore Poplar Creek for a while, reading great posts about it, and having caught my first Illinois smallie at its entrance to Bode Lakes two summers ago. I drove north along the Fox River, passing through many surprisingly rural areas. Looking at google maps certainly doesn't give you the feel of these places; I enjoyed driving on the highway, windows open, through the country. My tube jig hanging from my rear-view mirror swayed as I drove.

After stopping for a coffee refill and second breakfast, I made it to Poplar Creek. What I found was an extremely slow-moving creek, no fish that wanted my offerings, and a sunken shopping cart with a white twister tail attached.

By this time it was around 10am, and I had plenty more time to explore. I hopped back in my Neon and headed east. When we used to live in Hoffman Estates, I fished Bode Lakes quite a few times. Once I accidently found myself driving through Shoe Factory Woods, admiring the dense foliage and remoteness of it all. Upon a later google maps exploration, I saw there was a good sized pond in the middle, far from the published paths. Perfect! Ever since that detour, I'd wanted to explore it and find out what treasures swam through its water.

After a beautiful hike through the woods, the sounds of car traffic fading behind me, I made it to what seemed like an amazingly remote pond in the middle of a seemingly deserted prairie. As I walked the shore, about a hundred big frogs yelped and jumped in the water. I started casting, not seeing any movement, nor did I notice any bass on beds. There was obviously a lot of wildlife here though; the entire muddy shore was covered, every single inch, with raccoon and deer tracks.

Whenever I find myself in such remote-like areas, I think about Minecraft. For those who aren't in the know, it's an open-ended survival computer game which I can't recommend enough. It's pretty cheap too, and extremely addictive. It combines a bunch of my favorite things: video games, zombies, the outdoors (virtually) and fishing (you can build a fishing rod and catch fish).

Wilderness? Reminds me of Minecraft.

A few minutes later I heard some movement on the path behind me, and I saw a man walking with a bucket and a spray apparatus. I guessed he worked for the park district or something. I wondered if he'd tell me there's no fishing allowed.

"There's no fish-" expecting him to scold me for fishing, instead he fished his sentence with "... in there." He explained they miscalculated the aquaculture or something or other, and the pond completely drains every year. No fish in there. I said I saw lots of frogs, "Well sure there are, there aren't any fish to eat their eggs!" Makes sense. I packed up and hiked back to the car, admiring the forest around me.

I stopped at home to play with Walter the dog, refuel my stomach with a quick lunch, then I headed back out to the pond/lake with carp. I spent the next many hours sitting next to the water, two rods in the water with corn on the end, catching little catfish. While I waited for the fish to find my bait, I cleaned up two plastic bags worth of trash- including an entire six pack just left sitting there! People, seriously, is it so damn hard to clean up what you bring with you? I like beer as much, nay, more than the next guy, but if I bring stuff with me I clean it up. It's not that difficult.

I tried a new spot as well, where I found a half-eaten little carp sitting on the shore. The flies were having a field day. I saw wakes in the water that suggested fish, so I threw out my lines and waited. Not having any rod holders, I did my best impression of an outdoorsy person and dug a couple holes in the grass, sticking my rods in the ground. Worked great!

Didn't catch any carp, but thoroughly enjoyed the outdoors for a huge majority of the day. Caught some fish, saw some animals, and put in my time fishing. Practice makes perfect.

Hello again Mr. Goby

A nice fishing spot

This is my attempt at a short post.

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

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

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

 

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

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

I'll probably just go fishing and find out.

Adventures in Kayaking on the Fox River

loaded up and ready to go

After a great and incredibly informative outing with Sam Bennett the day before, I headed back out to the river. This time, my kayak was strapped to my roof, and my car was chock full of gear. The only time I'd kayaked the Fox was in the fall, right at I-90. At the time there was almost no current and I didn't manage to land a single fish.... But after many trips to the river, I had more experience and a better idea where to find them. Hanging out with Sam certainly didn't hurt my understanding of the river either.

I figured I'd launch near my usual stretch of the river, and paddle around looking for good spots. Although I've caught smallies holding close to shore in practically no current, most of them have come from seams, relating to the current. Seams, I'm fairly positive, are the things between two different currents; the area where a faster current and a slower current meet. It seems to me smallies like to hang out on either side of a seam, perhaps catching a quick bite as the conveyor-belt-like current delivers snacks to their mouths. I had a fairly good idea where to find them; now the task was to locate these places in the kayak and fish them.

I managed to bring my kayak and all my gear to the river in two short trips from my car. My kayak is light enough I can carry it on one shoulder, so I can fill my other arm with paddles, rods, and even my anchor. Looking at my watch I noticed I was in the water, in the kayak, exactly one hour after leaving my driveway in Itasca. That's pretty good! Only took me about 15 minutes to get the kayak off my car, take it to the water, rig up the rod holders, paddle, rods, tackle backpack, anchor, and then suit in my waders.

my kayak, fully loaded and ready to do some fishing

Immediately I realized this wouldn't be as easy as I'd been imagining; most of my kayaking has been done in little or no current. As soon as I paddled out into the river, the relentless current began to push me downstream. I paddled furiously, but watching the trees on the bank stand motionless, I realized I wasn't actually going anywhere. I looked down and saw the bottom of the river about a foot under the water. Instead of paddling like a madman against the current, I just hopped out of the kayak. I tied a line to the aft of the yak, and clipped it to my vest. Although the current pushed the kayak downstream, my body weight kept it from getting away from me.

I had visions of the clip snapping and watching my prized boat quickly float down the river away from me. I wondered if I'd run after it. I wondered if I would eventually find it at the bottom of a dam farther downstream...

I worked my way upstream, trying out a variety of lu res. This time I brought three rods with me- my kayak was like a fancy rod holder, holding all my gear so I didn't have to wear it all. One on I snapped crankbaits onto a swivel snap; one I tied on jigs (twister tails and tubes); and on the third I rigged a slip bobber with a 1" gulp alive minnow. I've been hearing great things about these little minnows, so earlier in the day I picked some up at Dick's. It was so great to be able to quickly try out a different lure without having to retie.

I made my way close to the first spot Sam and I visited the day before. This time I could work the eddy from the opposite side- standing in the water I seemed to have a much better angle of attack. With a white twister, I cast right into the seam about 5 feet from the bank of a little island. Immediately I got a small hit, but my hook set launched the jig out of the water instead of into the fish.

Well at least I found some fish!

I keep thinking about something I've read repeatedly- 90% of the fish are in 10% of the water. Who knows if this is true, it did come from the internet after all. But based on my limited experience, this absolutely seems to be true. It makes me all the more prouder when out of the entire river at my disposal, I manage to find that 10% where there are actually fish. I didn't give myself a pat on the back though, since I'd missed that fish.

No matter what I did, I couldn't get it to give me a second chance for a picture of the two of us. I slowly waded toward the eddy, towing my kayak behind me.

I noticed a few people fly fishing across the river. They were talking very loudly (something I didn't think fly fishermen did) but they were having a good time.

I waded through the eddy, trying to get some more fish to bite. Nobody wanted my gulp minnow under a slip bobber, something I was pretty disappointed about. I'd have to try it at the pond later... [I actually did try it later that night, and I watched bluegill come up and stare at it. The same thing happened a few weeks ago after a cold front- it's one thing to read about cold front fishing on the internet, another to see a bluegill refuse some delicious bait.]

Confident there were no fish to be had in the immediate area, I hopped into my kayak and started to paddle upstream. Difficult does not even begin to describe how it was trying to paddle upstream through a small break in two little islands. The current was so strong, my weak kayaking arms were no match. And then, paying attention to the various currents and seams, I managed to move the kayak into an area of slightly slower current. Slowly but surely, I was gaining inches against the river! After a few minutes I made it past the current and eddy, and was on the other side.

I fished for a moment before I realized the current was taking me back where I had just been! Quickly paddling, I made my way to a little gravel bar and "parked" the kayak on the rocks.

Nothing there, I continued paddling upstream. I was now in an area I think might be called "flats"- a large area without much current or change in depth. And then BAM! BAMBAM! I ran right into a giant boulder. My kayak tipped, the current trying to convince it to capsize, a stream of profanity came from my mouth. I got the boat level, and tried to paddle around the rock.

Losing the battle, I decided to step out of the kayak and tow it upstream instead, as I had done earlier. As soon as I tried getting out, one leg in the water and one in the kayak, the current ripped the kayak downstream, and I started to do the splits in the river. I grabbed a rope I'd tied to the stern, bringing the boat closer and easing my burning thighs. Finally I got my other foot out of the yak, and was standing in the flats.

I saw what I guessed was a carp swimming around; I was pretty sure carp like to hang out in shallow flats like this. Later in my nonstop internet fishing research I read walleyes also like to hang out in flats at dawn and dusk- I'd have to remember this spot.

As I slowly waded upstream, I cast a bit but didn't expect much. There wasn't much cover or current, I doubted there would be any smallies here. Although I really want to catch a carp, I wasn't sure how to approach it with the selection of lures I had with me. I noticed the sky was now dark and ominous; actually it had been getting darker all along, but I'd been too busy almost flipping my kayak to notice.

I saw a few sprinkles come down, and then more, and then it was outright raining. No thunder though, so I figured I'd be fine. Then it started to REALLY rain. Heavy, cold raindrops falling straight down into my open kayak, onto my flannel fleece and Bell's Two-Hearted Ale hat. For whatever reason, I decided perhaps I should head closer to the shore, maybe even downstream closer to my car... Just in case I wanted to quickly exit the river.

It's amazing how quickly one can move with the current downstream in a river, especially after fighting the current the whole way upstream. It's also amazing how easy it is to miss boulders in the water, even though normally I scour for them because fish hang out around them. Paddling down the river full speed, I see the boulder a few microseconds before my kayak and I ram into it with the full force and speed of the river.

kaBAM! BAMABMAB!

Once again I almost found myself in the river proper, but thanks to my durable kayak and questionable paddling skills, I managed to stay afloat and in the boat. I seem to remember a particular curse word coming out of my mouth repeatedly as I sped toward the rock, but that didn't stop my kayak from ramming the boulder. I was glad to have the kayak I had, and not a more fragile fiberglass one that might have just shattered on that rock.

I continued downstream as the rain picked up even more. It's a very interesting sound, surrounded by water as the rain falls- it would have been more pleasing if I hadn't been getting soaked and carefully watching for more boulders as I sped down the river. I quickly passed the two fly fisher-people (a man and a lady) who were huddled under an overhanging tree. As the rain pelted the top of my kayak loudly, I decided it would be a good idea to find some shelter under some trees as well.

I found an area with overhanging trees that happened to be full of rocks that seemed to be close to deeper water. Seemed like a spot I'd be in if I were a fish- I figured the rain might knock bugs off the trees into the water, not to mention the near safety of deeper water and possible crayfish in the rocks.

First cast with the white twister, right into some submerged branches, and I'd hooked into my first kayak bass!

Although I've caught bluegill, perch, and even catfish in the yak, I had yet to catch a bass. I did hook into a real nice one at Busse, but I couldn't maintain the tension and it threw the hook at the last moment.

This time was different- this smallie was clearly a little lethargic, and quickly tired out. It ran a few times, but I managed to keep him on the little hook. Excited, overjoyed, I hauled in my scrappy catch over the side and into the kayak. I caught a fish!

the single fish of the day.. a beauty

Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing wrong; I commonly read of 5-10 fish caught per outing, even in this cold weather... And I'm lucky to tangle with even one. I chalk it up to lack of experience and technique- I hope someday to make multiple-fish outings a regular occurrence.

But when I looked at this fish, this beautifully patterned smallmouth bass, it was all good. I coaxed him out of hiding, tricked him into thinking my little bit of metal and plastic was food. Out of the 90% of water where there probably weren't any fish, I somehow fished the 10% where they were. Success! It certainly doesn't hurt to have people like Sam giving me tips.

I worked that spot for at least 45 minutes after that fish, the rain collecting in the trees and falling into the river in much bigger drops. Falling onto my head too. I paddled to a few other spots, I found a trench where walleye might hide (?) and made a mental note of it for later. The other anglers told me they pulled 4 smallies out of the rocky area where I got the one- later I wondered if I should have downsized my presentation to get more fish...

I was completely soaked, there was a growing pool of water in my kayak, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. I made the call to call it a day. It was only when I took off my various layers of soaking wet outwear I realized how wet I had gotten! My baseball cap weighed at least 20 pounds due to all the water; I could barely lift up my flannel. All in all a great outing, very instructive, and perhaps a nice story too.

the two of us together
(notice the rain-soaked flannel)

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

A Short Wade in Cold Water

Had some time yesterday, and thanks to Ken G who hipped me to the spot, I headed south to Salt Creek near the Brookfield Zoo.

The creek flows all over the area, but I know it most where it leaves Busse and heads south a few minutes to the east of my house. Eventually it connects with the Desplaines river, then the Illinois River, then the Mississippi. I've become a little obsessed mapping rivers, streams, and creeks in Google Earth. They're all connected!

A 20 minute drive south, the creek has an entirely different feel to it. Less of a creek, more of a river. I expected a small trickle, but encountered a beautiful river with rocks, with much clearer water than I'm used to in Cook County. I rolled up in my car, marveling at the very tall trees, and quickly suited up and got to the water.

I think there's a pool in this picture-
that's where there were a bunch of little fish

First cast (with a 3" white jig'n'twister) I got a hit immediately. At that exact moment my phone rang, I saw who it was and knew I needed to take it; I answered my phone and the fish got off the hook. I could have sworn it looked like a small bass, it's slim profile flashed and disappeared back into the pool. My phone call took a few minutes, all the while I scanned the river, trying to figure out it's secrets. The result of the call was good though, I was headed to Nebraska for some gigs! I wonder if there's any good fishing out there.

I entered the water, and cast, trying to reclaim the little on that got away. Again I got plenty of little hits that felt more like panfish than bass. It occurred to me maybe I should fish with nightcrawlers, I bet I'd catch more fish. Looking at the water, I identified (maybe incorrectly) some riffles, a handful of little pools, and a couple seams. I did my best fishing all the angles of these things, but wasn't able to hook one of the little fish. I tied on a tiny jighead with a tiny pink tube, but they wouldn't go for it. Maybe they liked the color of the white twister?

Wanting to explore more, I proceeded upstream. It was crazy to see to the bottom of the creek; most places I've been fishing lately (the pond, Busse, Beck, Songbird, etc.) are usually very muddy with almost no visibility. Here, a short drive away, I could see the entire composition of the stream bed. Lots and lots of rocks, gravel, and little forests of weeds (algae?) pulsing in the current. It was beautiful. Except there was this weird smell I couldn't identify... kind of a bad smell.

If not for the roar of the nearby expressway and even closer major streets, I felt like I could have been 500 miles away. Maybe in some trout stream in Colorado. Or even better, in Michigan! I liked the variety of stuff happening on this little river- it was flowing pretty quickly, and it was easy to see all the different currents at the surface.

And then I looked to the right, and stood about five feet from a raccoon.

I stopped in my tracks, all I could think of were all those scenes in movies where raccoons jump on the face of an unsuspecting outdoorsman wannabe... But it didn't move. I couldn't quite see it's face... I stood there for a minute, and then I realized it was dead. Upon a more thorough investigation I noticed some bugs and stuff that were doing their job of dismantling the raccoon. I thought of how efficient nature is- the raccoon died, bugs take it apart, it becomes something else. I don't know anything about ecology or biology, so it kind of seems like magic.

I fished for a while more in the ice cold water. Oh, didn't I mention it was ice cold? It was ice cold. Like colder than ice cold. In my thin, non-neoprene and non-breathable waders, only a thin sheet of wader material and some jeans were between my privates and a quickly rushing stream of frigid water. I was very cold. This seemed to be the theme of the week.

Every so often I'd get out the water to warm up a bit, then walk back in and continue. I got a few more small bites, but didn't see any baitfish or especially fishy-looking areas. Cycling through my entire tackle box (divided into a few smaller tackle boxes, packed into my awesome fishing vest) I practiced using all the different kinds of lures I had. Good practice, but no fish. I definitely need to come back and explore when I have more time, this is a great spot.

Thanks Ken!

Looks pristine and far away, right?
Just 5 minutes from 290! Or 355 or 88 or something...