Fishing in Kalamazoo

This weekend Claire and I were in Kalamazoo, Michigan helping my little sister move. Obviously I wanted to take the opportunity to do some fishing. I woke up at 5am EST (4am my time) on Sunday morning, headed to the nearest supplier of coffee (Starbucks wasn't open yet, McDonalds still did the trick) and made my way north to a small trout stream I'd read about on the Internet. I figured I could try for some stream trout for a while, then hit the Kalamazoo river since I'd be fishing very close to it.

There was supposed to be a street going to the stream, a street where I could park and not have to traverse any private property. Turns out this street was a dirt road, and it was closed. I spent about twenty minutes trying to find a way to get to the stream. Finally I found another part of it, farther upstream from the Kalamazoo, but it was clearly private property. The stream was about ten feet wide, and it most certainly ran through a series of backyards.

Well, I thought, I wouldn't be catching any trout this morning. I made yet another u-turn in the deserted country backroads and headed toward downtown Kalamazoo. Every now and then I'd stop and take a look at the map, trying to figure out some river access that wasn't private property. At one point I pulled into a seemingly abandoned industrial complex of some kind. There was river access, but it was behind very tall barbed wire fences.

I drove to a city park on the river, and when I got there I realized I'd actually fished there before. Last year, I happened to be in town and tried fishing from the bridge. Back then I didn't have a clue about river fishing (I still only have a clue, not much else) and was, as expected, skunked. This time I had waders, quickly made my way into the water.

A few years ago there was a major oil spill on the Kalamazoo, but cleaning efforts have been mostly concluded, except for a few stretches. There was no sign of the oil spill where I was; the river looked like a normal river. A lot more urban than I expected; reminded me of the Desplaines River in Chicago with its high banks that made me think of erosion. I was surprised by the depth and sandy bottom of the river. I was also surprised by the lack of current breaks in the form of rocks; there were some downed trees, and there was a bridge, and that was it. No boulders, at least as far as I could see.

I got some hits, then pulled out a monstrous 9" rock bass on a tube that immediately self-released from my hands. It was good to catch a fish- there's always a lot of (self-inflicted) pressure to catch at least one fish. After that I can relax a little.

Casting everywhere, I decided that if I were a smallmouth bass, I'd probably prefer an area with a rocky bottom and more current. The only place that existed was around the bridge, so I headed in that direction. I worked the downstream sides of the columns but no takers. Under the bridge there was a little riffle, and when I cast to it I was rewarded with my first Kalamazoo River smallie.

Pretty fish

Not a trophy, but a good solid fish with nice colors. I worked that area for another half hour, and when I decided to leave and find another spot, at least 10 tube jigs stayed behind, attached to various underwater obstructions. I couldn't retrieve them when I went to check out the spot, but I did notice a bunch of boulders; it appeared the smallies were hiding behind them. I also found a submerged stereo. I wondered if there were times fish gathered behind it, using it to hide from the current.

the "wet" knob on the reverb must have been turned up all the way (music nerd joke)

 

 

I got into my car and brought up Maps on my phone. I wanted to find a place with more current breaks, more variation in water depth. The river was mostly straight near me, but there was one big curve in the river. I know from the internet and some experience that in river bends the inside bend will be shallow, the outside deeper. I also have seen that bends like that tend to deposit trees and other current breaks as the current changes, providing more places for fish to hide. I headed to the curve.

It took me a while to figure out where to legally park and how to get down to the water. On one attempt I stumbled upon some homeless people living in a tent under a bridge. I suppose they could have been camping, but it looked like they'd been there for weeks. I wondered what I would do if I suddenly didn't have a place to live; permanently camping by a river seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution. I wondered if they would ask for some fish if I caught any, and if I should give them any. I decided I probably would give them some, even though the water quality wasn't the best. A contaminated fish might be better than no food at all.

After some major bushwacking through a solid wall of foliage, I stumbled down into the river and saw exactly what I was looking for. Lots of rocks, boulders, downed trees, bridge columns, deep water, shallow water; Maybe it was luck or maybe it was me, but either way I found a great spot. My good choice was confirmed as a good choice when I caught another smallie hanging out in a bunch of riffles.

Kzoo river smallie #2

 I lost some more tubes, got a few hits, and really enjoyed the experience. I was fishing in downtown Kalamazoo, a half mile from the Union where I'd played more than a hundred gigs... But I'd never seen this spot, nor had I fished it. I wonder what other hidden jewels I miss as I drive over bridges.

I was almost out of tubes, so I thought I'd try another approach. I definitely use tubes and jigs too much for smallies; I've never caught one on anything else. I pulled out a gold and red spinner I made (with a paperclip for the wire shaft) and clipped it to my line. When I was testing its action in the water not two feet away from me, I saw and felt fish come up and nip at it! Awesome! I'd been standing still for a few minutes, and it appeared fish were using me as a current break. I had heard of that happening, but never experienced it myself.

So I cast out my spinner, downstream into the current break I was creating, and sure enough connected with a fish. Another rock bass. My first river fish on a homemade spinner! I made it extra heavy to dive deeper in heavy current. This seemed to be the perfect place to use it.

I made that spinner! First fish caught in my own wake

It took about 5 minutes to remove the treble hooks, but after a few minutes holding the fish in the slack water behind me, he came to and swam away just fine. As I was doing so some guys came upstream in a boat, giving me dirty looks. I wondered if I was in "their" spot. I asked them how they were doing, but they didn't seem interested in talking to me.

I caught another rock bass behind me, but couldn't coax anymore smallies. Nobody asked me for fish, nor did I see anybody in the tent. Maybe they were still asleep; it was early after all.

When the time came I made the reverse bushwhacking trip through the thick trees; it seemed clear to me not too many people fished this spot. At least not wading. I wondered if wading in the Kzoo was a bad idea after the oil spill; but I didn't see even the slightest indication of any topwater oil slicks or contaminated rocks or plants. I know that doesn't always mean it's clean, but I felt fairly protected by my waders. Except for the small leak they seem to have developed. I guess I'll find out...

Although I didn't do any trout fishing like I'd hoped, it was a good outing with some nice fish. 2 smallies, 3 rock bass. One of those guys was a GIANT! Not the best trip, but certainly not the worst. It's very encouraging to know that, at least in some circumstances, I can explore a new body of water and successfully find fish.

Lunchtime greenies

Spoiler alert: I caught a big green sunfish

There are so many bodies of water. Seriously, go to google maps and check out where you live. All those little blue areas- there are almost certainly fish in all of them! At least that's how I feel lately, having discovered some exciting fishing in Salt Creek. I've been wondering what other bodies of water right under my nose are teeming with fish...

Today during lunch I strolled down the street to a tiny pond not even a quarter mile away. Last night on a walk with Walter I noticed a distinct lack of "NO FISHING" signs. There were only "DO NOT MOW! NATIVE GRASSES!" signs. Not sure exactly what that means, but it sounds like something I approve of. I am not a fan of the ridiculously manicured suburban lawns that surround me (including my own, which is maintained by the neighborhood association). Why not keep the native plants around? They are nice looking and perfectly at home in this climate. I bet they also give local wildlife a lot better homes than bushes trimmed into cubes and spheres. But I digress.

I wasn't expecting much from this pond- it's about the size of a basketball court, probably smaller. I don't really know anything about basketball or the size of courts it's played on. I casually walked up to the pond, tossed out a texas-rigged white twister tail, and let it sink.

Immediately I had a fish on. No setting of the hook needed. It hit the lure like a missile.

The next four or five casts were the same way. Every cast a fish. Small but incredibly aggressive fish. Awesome! A few casts went without a fish retrieved, and then I felt a giant tug on the line. Could it be a bass? It felt a lot bigger than the others.

I reeled in the biggest green sunfish I'd ever seen. It was a monster! Probably 9" long, maybe longer, and a mouth like a largemouth bass. This dude was considerably larger than every other fish I'd caught so far. A veritable giant. I've caught plenty of smallies around that size; in my book, quite a catch. Especially from a tiny shallow pond down the street.

9"+ green sunfish, my personal best for that species

In the next 35 minutes I caught a total of 17 green sunfish. I switched to a green t-rigged worm and continued to catch them, although not as many. I caught all sizes from the 9" monster to a little guy who inhaled the whole worm.

Over-achiever (the worm is longer than he is)

After the 17th fish, which is more fish than I've ever caught in a single outing as far as I can remember, I made the 2 minute walk back to my house to eat some lunch and go back to work.

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.

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.

Fishing for carp and catching bullheads

* Editor's Note: not sure if they are bullheads, channel cats, or what... But they are certainly catfish.


A few weeks ago I "discovered" a new fishing spot. In fact, doing aerial research on it via google maps, I found my car parked next to one of the ponds the very day I first fished the spot. You can even make out a small blob that I'm pretty sure is me.

That's my car, and that little black blob is me
fishing this spot for the first time

That day I saw lots of frogs, but didn't catch anything out of the little pond. Looking at the spot via google maps, I realized there was a much larger body of water just on the other side of the pond. On my way home from work on monday I headed there to investigate. What I found was what seemed to be a very shallow, muddy body of water filled with carp. How do I know it's filled with carp? Every couple of seconds, carp parts would break the surface of the water; a dorsal fin here, a caudal fin there, sometimes I even caught glimpses of a little carp mouth. And this was happening everywhere- just a few feet from shore, in the middle of the pond, and everywhere else. Armed only with bass fishing gear, which proved very unsuccessful, I quickly headed home to grab some more carp-oriented gear.

Carp is one of the many species I've yet to catch. I've seen many of them in my fishing experiences. The first time I encountered them, I was in my kayak at Busse and had no idea what these giant fish were, bumping my kayak and splashing me with water. I thought they were jumping walleye. Of course now I know the difference between carp and walleye, but not much else! I've been doing a lot of "research" on carp and how to fish them. Although they seem to be looked down upon by many anglers, apparently they put up a great fight. Most of the carp I've seen swimming around are twice as big as the biggest bass I've ever caught. That is reason enough to pursue them in my book. (Don't know what carp look like? Check this out)

I returned to the pond, with two rods, tiny circle hooks, frozen corn, and half a loaf of cheap white bread. I proceeded to spend the next few hours soaking little bits of food. The spot I found is clearly frequented by other anglers- empty cans, bottles, paper, plastic bags, and even a used six pack of beer litter the area. I simply don't understand leaving trash like that, especially if you're going to come back! Do some people really want to sit in their own trash while they fish? Not to mention the fact that this is a public space, clearly shared by others. It is incomprehensible to me. Until I started fishing and saw all the trash, I thought littering was something we vanquished with after school specials and plain old common sense. Clearly it is still a problem.

That first trip out, I caught a tiny little yellow bullhead. On corn! Because my drag was set so loosely - based on the advice of internet carp anglers - the fish felt huge. When I reeled it in and saw the tiny little guy, all I could do was laugh. The circle hook did it's job perfectly- the fish was hooked nicely in the corner of the mouth, leaving it completely unscathed from the experience of being caught.

Baby bullhead.. isn't he cute?

I threw out corn into the area, the internet tells me that's a good way to get carp in the area, more likely to find my hooked corn. When I returned the next day, the carp had clearly found my corn and were cruising right around the area I had chummed. I chummed some more, threw my two lines out, and waited.

For many, fishing is an exercise in patience. Casting out a line and hoping a fish will find it, that is the way many fish. There's certainly nothing wrong with that approach, but I've never had the patience for it. My approach to fishing has always been cast, cast, hike, cast, cast, and cast some more. Always moving, always looking for new spots, always second-guessing my lures, always trying to find the fish. The opposite of passive fishing, active fishing I suppose. That's part of the appeal of fishing to me- it's part fishing, part hiking; although I move slowly, usually cover a lot of ground. Except for wading, due to my inexperience I tend to wade quite slowly.

Recently, learning more about the plentiful carp and catfish that inhabit almost every body of water and can grow much larger than bass, I've started to fish for these fish. Why spend all my time pursuing only one species? I love chasing bass, both the green and the brown kind, but there are many kinds of fish. By ignoring carp and catfish, I've probably been missing out on most of the fishing all around me, pound for pound. The static, passive method of fishing for these species always dissuaded me from trying it. In an effort to improve my patience (and species list) I've been pursuing these bottom-feeding species almost exclusively this week. My honey-hole retention pond is clogged with weeds and filled with spawning bass who are completely uninterested in my lures, so it was a good excuse to try a new kind of fishing.

My baby bullhead spot

Tuesday I caught three more little bullheads, each smaller than the last. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy catching them. For such small fish, they put up a nice fight- especially with my drag set so loose. I am wary of their fins, which the internet tells me are tipped with a toxin more painful than a bee sting if it breaks the skin. These little fish are particularly feisty and difficult to handle, so I've been lipping them as I would with a bass. Each one bites down on my fingers repeatedly, just as I deserve for cheating them out of their meal of corn and poking them with little hooks.

Last night I spent a little time before sunset soaking some corn, and once again caught some bullheads. One on corn, very tiny, like little toy versions of their bigger catfish cousins. The spot I'd been fishing had a big wooden plank to sit on, and something possessed me to move it. Underneath it were tons of little worms enjoying the damp darkness under the wood. Perfect! I grabbed a few, put them on a hook, and cast them out. Pretty soon another bullhead found them and ended up in another instagram picture with me.

After a bunch of hours this week fishing for carp in this one spot, I decided I should try another spot. Maybe for some reason they just wouldn't take the corn here. I tried a few different techniques to entice them: very loose drag, then I just opened my bail so they would feel no resistance, then I put a slip sinker behind a swivel and put the hook two feet farther down, but no carp. A few times I pulled up corn that looked like it had been sampled, but no carp came with it. I picked up my gear and headed to a smaller pond where a fisherman told me he'd caught carp before.

There were definitely fish there- I saw plenty of movement on the surface, which I guessed wasn't very far from the bottom. I waited, and waited, and waited. I heard some rustling in the grasses near me, and I carefully tiptoed to investigate. I saw a little otter (or muscrat) swimming away carrying a bunch of grass in his mouth. Reminded me of that image of a dove with an olive branch in it's beak. When the little guy saw me, he quickly submerged into the chocolate milk-like water.

As this picture was taken, the little
guy never stopped biting my fingers

And then I caught yet another bullhead, unless I was losing track it was my sixth one at this set of ponds. Although I could see the carp everywhere, they apparently wanted nothing to do with my corn or worms. Seeing them swimming all around, kicking up mud on the bottom, clearly feeding- that is the most frustrating part. I know they're there, I know they're feeding, but I can't get them to eat my corn. Out of frustration, I tied a little white twister tail to one of my lines and fished it slow along the bottom. I'd heard of carp and catfish occasionally being caught on such lures, and I couldn't take the waiting anymore. I got one set of bites which felt like little panfish, but when I recast to the area they were gone.

As the sun set, I packed up my stuff and headed back to my car. I caught three fish, which isn't bad compared to my average this year, but I still hadn't hooked into the elusive carp. One of these days, I'll get one on the end of my line. And I'll probably really like it. Until then, I'll keep trying. Working on that whole patience thing.

The bullhead pond right around sunset

How now brown trout?

Pure Michigan!

In Michigan for the weekend, I had to get my obligatory Michigan fishing in. Saturday morning I waded the Thornapple River near Grand Rapids, but got completely skunked (and very very cold). It was beautiful, but I wasn't able to find any fish. I decided to hit up another river on Sunday, hopefully I'd get into some fish this time.

It was cold, dark, and raining, and I left the house anyway. Mark told me about a great spot on a great river not too far from Grand Rapids- the Rogue River, and I was determined to check it out. It's not every day I get the chance to fish pristine Michigan waters, and I knew there were fish in there I wasn't likely to find at Busse or the Fox River. Fish like trout. Although I've gone salmon fishing a few times in the harbors in Chicago, I have yet to connect with one of those beasts. In fact, the only trout I've ever caught were 3 8" steelheads at Burnham in the summer.

I threw my stuff in the Mini Cooper, plugged my phone into the aux input, and accelerated onto the expressway. I tuned my Pandora radio to Mos Def, but I wasn't listening... I was fantasizing about the steelhead I was about to catch. Or kings. Or coho. I don't really know. Following my GPS and the pin I'd dropped on the secret location, I made my way to Rockford, Michigan, and parked.

I got out of the car, and looked down at the river. My first impression was a little bit of terror: it looked super fast and super cold. Was I ready for this? This would only be my 4th or 5th time wading. And it was cold out, not to mention raining. Like usual, I threw caution to the wind, and suited up.

The cold-looking Rogue River, Rockford, Michigan

I headed down a path, walked under a bridge, and immediately noticed a ton of "PRIVATE PROPERTY: NO HUNTING OR FISHING" signs everywhere, all around the path. Mark told me the day before Michigan law allowed anglers to use a reasonable amount of bank to facilitate fishing public waters, so I wasn't too worried about the signs. But I have to admit, every time I heard a branch crack or a squirrel jump I expected to turn around and see a shotgun-toting Tea Party member wanting me off his property.

Mark told me I should cross the river where there were a bunch of riffles, or a little rapids. I slowly and carefully made my way into the water a little upstream of the rapids, noting how much warmer the water seemed than the Thornapple yesterday. I'd been told the Thornapple was spring fed, and always super cold; either way, the Rogue didn't seem so bad. Looking down into the water, I was absolutely shocked with the water clarity- I could see all the way to the bottom; the water was crystal clear! NONE of the waters I fish in Illinois are crystal clear like this. I don't know if it's pollution, or mud, or the type of bottom... But this was incredible. The bottom of the river was covered with rocks and millions of vibrantly colored leaves recently dropped from the trees. It looked like a quilt, a myriad of bright colors shining up from the bottom. But I didn't see any fish there.

I snapped a Mepp's gold Aglia onto my swivel, thinking that might entice whatever trout or salmon happened to be lurking in these waters. I'd recently read about maggots, skein, and even nightcrawlers being successful on the river, but I hadn't stopped at a bait shop to get any of these things. Also, I didn't have any bobbers. So I was sticking with what I had, which was an assortment of inline spinners (store-bought and homemade), crankbaits, and jigs.

The flow of the river was pretty strong, much stronger than any stretch of the Fox I'd experienced. I started to get nervous, but I persevered; maybe the rapids would be better, I thought. I looked downstream and saw nothing but white water, flowing quickly over big boulders. It was pretty exciting- looking around, as far as I knew I could have been in some remote stream in the Colorado rockies; with the boulders, the pine trees, and the knowledge that there were trout in these waters. The roar of the rushing water filled the air. If there were any cars or trains or planes around, I didn't see them or hear them. I knew there were houses nearby, but I couldn't seem them either. I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere, in a good way!

I stepped into the rapids, and quickly felt the pull of the current. At this moment I was incredibly happy to have my improvised wading staff. Although it was just a broom handle with a hole drilled into it, a rope threaded threw the hole and affixed to me with a caribeaner, it prevented me from falling over in the water. I wasn't used to so many huge rocks, and it was challenging to navigate them while dealing with the very strong current. I took tiny steps, trying not to lift my feet too far off the bottom: when I did, they felt like underwater kites and were pushed by the current.

Every now and then I would pause, wondering if I should turn around and cross somewhere else. I looked around and realized I was already in the middle of the river, I might as well continue. I kept moving, slowly, every few steps almost falling over. I started to sweat. This was a workout- I could feel my entire lower body working to keep me vertical. I'd probably feel this tomorrow! Thank goodness for the wading staff. It saved me more times than I could count!

Finally, I was in a few feet of the opposite shore, when I almost stepped into a deep hole between some rocks. I quickly pulled back, using my broom handle to steady myself, the adrenaline shooting through my body. Whew! That was close! I paused, gathered myself, and carefully continued. At last, I was standing in a foot of water on the other side of the river. I walked downstream, closely following the shore, until I got to an island Mark told me about.

Here the bottom seemed much more sandy, and I sank in a little when I waded out to the middle. I was pretty sure smallies liked gravel or rocky bottoms (not sandy bottoms like this) but I wasn't sure about trout or salmon. I was also pretty sure there weren't really any smallies here, so it didn't matter what I knew about them! I scanned the water, trying to make some sense of all the currents I was seeing. There was clearly one big current coming from the rapids upstream, clearly identified by a line of bubbles quickly traveling down the river. I wondered if any opportunistic fish might sit right in the slower water right next to the faster water (I think that's called a seam...) waiting for a meal to go by. I cast my spinner upstream, and reeled it in right along the seam, just fast enough to keep the blade spinning.

I fan cast the area, eventually casting downstream and retrieving upstream. I'd had much more luck doing that for smallies, even though it didn't make sense to me (if the fish are facing upstream, seems like they'd be less likely to see food approaching from behind). I got hung up a bunch of times- especially casting upstream- but managed to keep my lure. 

After a while, three guys in kayaks came down the river. Two of them seemed like they'd never been kayaking before, and were spinning around and bumping into each other. It was pretty funny. When they saw me, they tried to give me a wide berth, but were unsuccessful. I didn't mind, I know it can be hard to control a kayak! I told them I hadn't caught or seen any fish; one of them said there were lots of fish in this river. I just hoped I could find them!

I continued downstream, slowly wading and casting in what I thought were good places. Places where the water spun in a circle, seams, on either side of riffles, all around boulders; I didn't see any fish jumping, and I didn't see any fish under the surface. Although I wasn't wearing my polarized sunglasses, I had no problem seeing all the way to the bottom. The leaf-patchwork and rock bottom was beautiful to look at, although there weren't any fish. I was surprised I didn't see any baitfish, especially in some slow moving water under tree branches close to shore.

At one point, moving to a good location, I had to wade through some deeper water. Until this point, I thought the water wasn't too cold, and had even taken off my sweatshirt because I was too warm. There was a very particular point when the cold water swirled almost to my waist and I changed my opinion. I decided the water was extremely cold.

Over the course of an hour or two, I slowly waded downstream, and threw a variety of different lures. A few different crankbaits, some Sims spinners (they cast so nice, and seemed to reach the bottom more easily in the faster current. I'd heard trout and salmon might hang out near the bottom....), and some other inlines. I also threw a little homemade spinner that had a bullet weight for a body. It also was able to stay deeper, closer to the bottom, although nobody was interested in it. I wondered about color selection in this water; I was pretty sure in clear water, you should use more natural-colored lures since the fish can see them better. On the other hand, it seemed like most salmon and trout lures where brightly colored and absolutely NOT natural-looking. I'd have to do some more research about this.

Casting to many VERY fishy locations, I started to get frustrated. I hadn't seen a single fish, certainly not any big steelhead or salmon swimming around. No fish jumping, no little baitfish swimming around. I did see some bugs on the surface of the water, but was not able to find any small fish eating the bugs. What gives?

Thinking I wouldn't have any more luck, I decided to head back upstream toward the car. I could cast along the way, but I didn't expect to get into any fish. I made my way to the shore, and started walking upstream on a path. The forest was extremely beautiful. Although the rain had stopped earlier, everything was covered in just enough water to make it shine and glisten as the sun shown from behind clouds. The leaves were tremendously vibrant, covering every square inch of the forest floor. The sound of rushing water was all around me.

I saw a guy fly fishing near where I'd originally entered the water. I had fished there, and got nothing. He was standing only up to his knees in water- could there really be nice trout or salmon swimming around right there, around his legs? I have a lot to learn, apparently. He said he had a nibble, but had only been there a few minutes. I told him about my skunk, and continued up the river. 

I reached the bridge, near where I parked, and noticed some interesting looking water upstream. Mark suggested the river downstream was better, but I hadn't had any luck there. Maybe I'd try working some of the water on the other side of the bridge. Making my way along the path, I saw the river seemed to split; it looked like a little creek joined the river here. Hmmm, I thought, I think this kind of spot might have some fish...

Turns out, there was at least one fish here

The bank was extremely steep, and slippery from all the wet leaves, but I somehow managed to get down to the water. I stepped in, 4" of water barely covering my boots. I figured I would fan cast the area before going deeper. Who knows...

To my left - downstream- the water flowed to a bunch of rocks, which after a small rapids traveled down and met the main branch of the river. To my right, the water was slow, a slow stream seemingly coming from the forest. Having lost my #2 Mepp's Aglia on a branch earlier, I snapped on a #2 Black Fury. I'd had a lot of luck with these lures lately, even though I was pretty sure they were supposed to be best in low-light conditions. This wasn't a low-light condition- it was about noon, and the sun was up in full force. The clouds were dissipating, and it was turning into a really nice day.

I cast downstream, my spinner landing inches from the edge of the rapids. I reeled in a bit, and let it fall. I began reeling again, when I felt was was absolutely a hit. A hit!! This was no snag, this was a fish investigating my lure! After all that wading, crossing rapids, and I got a hit only a few feet from my car. Sweet!

I cast again, trying to get to the same spot. I got it pretty close, but no hit. I cast a third time, this time much closer to the original spot, not even 3" from the edge of the rocks, the mini waterfall. I must have let the spinner fall to the bottom, because it got stuck on a rock or some leaves. I casually began to reel it in, ready to clean off the treble hook, when there was a splash, and I saw a fish. A fish! On my line! It wasn't leaves, it was a fish!

Like a jolt of electricity, the adrenaline started pumping and suddenly I was completely focused on the task at hand. I had a fish on! There was NO way I was going to let this one get away. I quickly reeled, and soon realized it was a tiny fish on the end of my line. There was no real fight, it was like reeling in a bunch of leaves. When the fish got closer, I saw it, and literally yelped for joy. 

I knew it was a trout. I had seen pictures of this kind of fish, although I couldn't remember exactly what type it was. As quickly as I could, I got the fish over land (I was only standing a foot from the bank) so I wouldn't lose it. I had to get a picture of this one!

I dropped my rod, and held the fish in my hand, getting the hooks out of its mouth. I yelped some more, wanting to jump up and down with joy. "Holy $&*@" I said way more times than necessary. It was a tiny fish, and hadn't given any fight to speak of; but I had caught a trout, on a cold Michigan stream, while wading. It was like some Hemingway novel, or some "Pure Michigan" commercial. It was awesome! I was beyond ecstatic. 

This was by far, hands down, the most beautiful fish I'd ever caught in my entire life.

I caught a brown trout!!!!

In my mind I tried to go through the thousands of fishing web pages I'd seen in the last few months, trying to remember trout identication, to put a name with this fish's face. It definitely wasn't a salmon or steelhead; I was pretty sure it was either a brook trout or a brown trout. I seemed to think one of those was the state fish of Michigan. This was great. Michigan is awesome. The night before, Claire and her family and I had gone to a Bell's Beer dinner at the golf club. Besides drinking way too much delicious Bell's Beer, I'd also won a raffle for a Two Hearted Ale baseball cap. Not only was that my very favorite beer, but there was a trout on the beer label- and the hat. Since I was wearing my new Two Hearted Ale trout hat and caught my first Michigan trout while wearing it, I decided this hat was now not only my favorite hat ever, it was my lucky trout hat.

I took about 60 pictures in quick succession (ok, more like 15) not wanting to hurt this little guy. He was such a good looking fish, and I wanted him to grow up to be a bigger good looking fish. Every few seconds he would squirm, and I could feel nothing but muscle on this fish. I wonder if that's how all river fish are, since everything in their world wants to push them downstream. It's like constant exercise- no wonder they're all ripped!

After 30-45 seconds of pictures with my new buddy, I put my phone back in my waders, and bent down to the water, carefully putting him back in the stream. He didn't do anything but sit in my hand, so I moved him forward in the water, running water through his gills. I'd heard of people killing pike by moving it forward and backwards in the water, apparently suffocating it (I guess gills don't work backwards). I did my best to only move this trout forward in the water, reviving him. After a few seconds, he suddenly realized he was back in the water, and swam off.

I stood there, in awe of the amazing fish I'd just caught. Although it wasn't a 10 pound steelhead, or even a 1 pound fish, I landed a trout while wading. I felt like a real fisherman- with waders, a thick unkempt beard, and a hat and an iphone library with trout on it.

I worked every square inch of the entire little stream, but was not able to locate any more trout. I really didn't understand why a little fish like that would position himself so close to the edge of a little waterfall. Seemed like any momentary lapse in concentration and he'd be pushed over the falls by the current. I moved a little farther upstream, again going above my waist in very cold water. Again I didn't think the water was cold until it reached a certain point. Now I was cold!

It was early afternoon, I was cold, and I was hungry.. and I'd had in my mind a completely successful fishing outing. I waded a roaring, rocky, beautiful Michigan river and caught a trout. That was really more than I could have asked for on a rainy Sunday.

I crossed the river, this time NOT at the rapids (which I found much, much easier to do), and reached my car. Very satisfied, I pulled off my waders, untied my boots, and broke down my fishing rod. A few short minutes later I was headed back down 131, the foot heaters blasting, my iphone photo library filled with pictures of a single beautiful trout.

Another shot of my first brown trout
(note the bell's two-hearted ale hat, with a trout on it)

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.

Skunked on the Fox

Walter hanging out on the Fox

PART I

Conditions:

72°F

Wind: none

Pressure: 29.86" and steady

Clouds: few

I'd read some great things about the Fox River and the vast population of smallies that lived there, and recently seen some posts about massive numbers of close-to-shore smallies that were being easily caught. Could this be my 2011 smallmouth day!!?? According to Ken G (who has an AWESOME blog you should definitely check out by the way) THIS was the weekend to get out on the Fox and catch some smallies, specifically at sunrise or sunset.

My lovely wife decided she wanted in on the action, so we packed up the car and brought Walter with us. I'd scoped out some possible locations on Google Earth, and the most convenient one was right off of I-90, about 25 minutes from our house. There was easy access to the water, it looked promising.

Very pretty little stream

Got there around 9am, started throwing nightcrawlers under bobbers and gulp minnows on jigheads (closest thing I had to Ken G's lure recommendation). We hooked Walter up to his super long leash, and tied it to a bench. He proceeded to immedately tangle himself repeatedly, but hey, we were all fishing! It was good times.

Well, the river was extremely shallow from where we were fishing, so shallow it was hard to avoid the massive amounts of weeds that were everywhere. Looking at the water, it seemed like the deeper water started just past the distance I was able to cast. Claire got some bites up close, but nothing big. There were tons of tiny minnows everywhere, but I didn't see any bluegill or any other pan fish.

I tried a variety of spots, trying to get to deeper water - I figured by 10am any smallies in the area had retreated to deeper water, as the sun was fully out and the air (and water probably) was heating up. No luck, not a single bite. I lost a few lures in the muck, and started to get frustrated.

We decided to move up the shore to the I-90 bridge, which looked like it had seen its fair share of fishing activity. By the looks of it, I guessed catfish and carp fisherman, but I wasn't sure. I just hoped there would be some smallies around!

So many baitfish!

The only fish that were around were the most baitfish I'd ever seen, and a little dead fish that washed up on the shore. Not sure what it was, maybe a chub? A tiny tiny drum? As faithful readers of this blog know, I'm pretty horrible at fish identification.

After a series of snags, more lost lures, and pretty much no luck, we decided to pack it up and head home. By this time it was about 11am, and I figured any bass in the area would certainly not be interested by now. I vowed to return and exact my revenge on the river that skunked us!

SKUNKED ON THE FOX - PART II

so pretty!

PART II

Conditions:

87°F

Wind: very slight, from the west

Pressure: 29.87" and rising

Clouds: partly cloudy

Return I did- a few short hours later, I packed up the S.S. Silent But Deadly, my gear, and hit the toll road. I wanted to be on the water in plenty before sunset, so I could find some good spots and work them at the right time.

As I was approaching the Roselle exit on I-90, I watched in my rear-view mirror as the strap holding the back of my yak SNAPPED! Suddenly it was gone, and I could see the kayak becoming loose on my roof. Crap!

kayak strap issues, right by Medieval Times

I turned on the four-ways, and pulled off to the side. The cable had just snapped close to where I attached it to the car, but thankfully the other side of the cable was still hooked to the car. I'm not sure how it happened; I'd driven with the kayak many times recently (to the DPR, to Salt Creek, to Busse, etc) and never had any problems. Maybe the tollway was too much for it!

I unhooked the back straps and put them in the trunk. I extra-tightened the side straps and the front strap- I wasn't giving up- I was getting on the water and catching some bass, dammit!

I decided to take back roads instead of the tollway, lest more straps snap and my yak went flying. That would be detrimental to my evening kayak fishing trip for sure.

Although it took at least twice as long to get to my destination, I have to say I really enjoyed the mostly 25 mph journey. I ended driving through our old neighborhood, and passed many fishing spots from earlier in the year. There was the pond where I caught tons of tiny pumpkinseeds on a bare hook; there was Salt Creek, which was my first moving-water kayak trip (didn't make it to Bode Lake like I planned, there were some impassable rapids just west of Barrington Road, and I wasn't the "experienced porter/portager" I am today); There was Bode Lake, where I fished extensively last year, and caught my only recent good-sized smallmouth.

Herons are awesome

I took Shoe Factory Road (awesome name) which winded through a nature preserve, then changed into straight up rural-ness. It was a nice change-up- most of my fishing trips consist of driving through urban and suburban landscapes, to fish in urban or almost suburban spots. Today, I felt like I was in the country (which I kind of was), surrounded by corn, trees, and a yellow late afternoon tint, and the promise of smallies. Wearing my Cabela's camo hat, I felt less like the nerdy city-boy I am and more like the obsessed angler that I also am.

Finally, after a series of amazingly fun hills, curves, and scenery, I arrived at the river. I checked the park district sign (made sure I wouldn't get towed after sunset), parked, unloaded, and within 10 minutes I was in the water. I'm getting good at this! I'm still in love with the idea of of a small boat that I can carry myself, paddle in water less than a foot deep, and catch fish. It's just awesome. And no motor, no gas, and lots of exercise! Good for a formerly indoor-only dude like myself.

But where are the fish!?

Well, I'll cut to the chase. I got completely skunked- even though I followed herons, saw tons of baitfish, worked what I thought were promising spots, tried a variety of lures and retrieval techniques, I didn't get so much as a bite. I was out for about an hour before sunrise, and about an hour after. Close to sunrise, a small army of fishermen appeared on the banks, but they weren't catching anything either. Could it be Ken G's spot, probably much farther south on the river, was where the bass were hanging out, and they didn't make it this far north? But I didn't even catch a single bluegill. What gives!!??

The Fox at I-90, at sunset

Defeated, I returned to the shore, and packed up my yak in the almost-dark. I really enjoyed the river, it was very beautiful, and full of cool-looking spots, and island, lots of wildlife; lots of stuff that made my trip feel less like a waste. At least I saw that great stuff, got some river kayaking in, and practiced casting.

Grumbling, I drove home, vowing my revenge on the Fox. It bested me TWICE in one day; it didn't help that everyone else seemed to be catching boatfulls of fish this week, and I couldn't manage one. I decided to go fishing again in the morning- on a different body of water- to reaffirm my fishing skills. But know this, Fox River, you're on notice! I'll be back, and you won't skunk me again!

Skunked! But some very nice views