Chris Ties Flies

Fishing has been a little slow lately. The drought-like conditions, the low water levels, the non-stop heat wave... These have all contributed to less than stellar fishing. Saturday I hit the Fox with Sam- he got 3 or 4, I got one tiny one.. But it was my first smallie on a crank!

My first fly... Messy and rough around the
edges, but....

Sunday morning I waded with Osprey (Rob) for quite a long time, but there was zero action. At the very end I managed to hook a tiny smallie for a split second on a white jig and twister. When the little fish threw the hook the whole Algonquin Valley resonated with my profanity.

Not sure what happened here

Over the weekend I got a fly rod! This was to replace the one that broke and I just returned it. That, coupled with the horribly uncomfortable weather outside motivated me to tie some ties.

Early yesterday morning I tied my first tie, and tied a bunch at lunch, and even more after work.

I stepped out for 15 minutes at lunch, fished the new tiny secret green sunfish pond, and got five. My first fish on a fly I tied myself! I stayed for a few more minutes and caught 4 more fish on the fly.

...It caught some fish!

Right around sunset, I headed for a spot on Salt Creek to do some more fly fishing with my new rod and new flies. It's a humbling experience learning something new like this; just when I think I have a good idea how to handle a spinning rod and reel, fly fishing happens. It's a completely different game.

I'm enthralled by this new world of fishing; the miniscule lures, the finesse and calmness needed to cast them, the infinite combinations of feathers, hair, and thread that are used to create them. I love making wooden lures, fishing with tube jigs, and tossing texas-rigged worms in front of bass... But I'm starting to love this too. I like the contrast between giant bass spinnerbaits and tiny flies can barely see, but somehow the fish can.

As I fished I had plenty of tangles, my fly line wrapped around my rod about a hundred times, the tiny flies with their tiny hooks got caught in tiny branches everywhere... To get a better angle I actually stepped in the creek, but quickly decided I didn't much care for the experience. I saw a little bass swimming around. At one point I had a black wooly bugger, I believe one tied and given to me by Mike Muston, right in front of the bass. I watched him approach, eat it, then immediately spit it out. Apparently I missed the hookset, but I was so enthralled just watching it happen, I didn't care.

I moved to a different spot and tied on a white fly I'd tied earlier. I've been following "recipes" for flies, in an effort to learn the basics before I try any fancy stuff. I've been trying to tie a wooly bugger, but I can't get it to come out right. I don't have all the right materials, so I'm improvising with what I have. This one is tied with goose feathers I found (for the tail), black yarn for the body (scraps from Claire), and turkey hackle (I think that's what it's called.. from my buddy Mark). I weighted it with some thin wire tied around the hook shank. It looks amazing in the water; it pulses and moves with the water in a way I've never seen plastic do.

I tried to make a wooly bugger...

As the sun set, I watched my little fly swim around the creek. I thought I'd have some luck with a white fly since I'd had so much luck on white twister tails in the same spot (even though all the baitfish seem to be brown). Turns out, I was right about the color! I saw a little bass approach the surface (my fly was just below the top of the water) and quietly slurp in my fly. Fish on! As soon as I got him on, I suddenly remembered I still don't know how to fight a fish or reel one in on a fly rod...

It wasn't much of a fight, it seemed like the warm water temperatures and probable lack of oxygen were messing with these fishes' mojo. Somehow I got the little fish in. I set down my phone, set the timer, and got some pictures of my first bass caught on a fly I tied.

My best impression of a trout angler holding a bass

A few minutes later, as the sun went down behind the trees on the other bank, a slightly bigger bass found my fly. This time I tried to focus more- despite my excitement- and try and remember what the internet told me about what to do when you're fly fishing and you catch a fish. I've been spending a lot more time learning about the casting part, I mostly forgot about the fish catching part!

I stripped line with my left hand (I'm pretty sure "strip" is the fly fishing term for "pull line in with the hand that isn't holding the rod") while I held the rod in my right hand and held the line with my index finger. I'm still not sure if I was doing that right, using my finger as the drag... When the bass went left, I moved the rod right; when he went right I went left. Soon he was tired, and I brought him in, awkwardly pointing my rod to the sky and struggling to reach the fish.

Fish #2 to fall for my untidy fly

After a while the heat and humidity was too much to bear. Somehow the temperature seemed to be going up after the sun set. I thought I'd do a few casts with my spinning rod that I brought just in case something happened to my fly rod. Apparently I'd forgotten how to cast a spinning rod, as my fingers caught the line, closed the bail, and my little jig smashed into the water like a bowling ball into a kiddy pool.

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.

Green sunfish and the creek monster

The view from the water

Early this morning I headed out to the local pond, which is the answer to my fishing fix when I don't plan ahead. The pond is there, it's full of fish, I usually do pretty well there. For a while the bass seemed turned off, and now they are back biting at everything. Could that be the "post-spawn funk" I've been hearing about?

Last week my lovely wife suggested we get another fishing rod. Well ok, sounds like a plan to me. We went to the big store and looked through all the rods until I found what I was looking for. I should clarify that, because I have no idea what I was looking for. I was hoping for a very light rod that I could use for a variety of fishing situations- pond bass, panfish, maybe even smallies. I normally fish with medium rods, but I wanted to try catching big pond bass on a light rod.

Turns out, it's a hell a good time. (Did I say that right? Should I say "hella" instead?) This morning I missed 2 and landed 3 on my new 5'6" light action (action? weight? not sure) rod. Each fish felt like a river monster. It was awesome. 1 came on a texas-rigged tube (thanks for the idea Sam) and the others on a plain old t-rigged worm. Brown. They attacked the $%^# out of that brown worm.

Later in the day I headed out to good old Salt Creek. It's a fairly polluted body of water, as I understand it; but I've caught a fair number of small fish there before. Even kayaked there once. I stopped by for literally 10 minutes and caught 4 green sunfish and two bass. They were small, but I really enjoyed catching them. I tried throwing some new little spoons I assembled, but they only followed and wouldn't strike. The white jig and twister, which is quickly becoming my go-to lure, took them all.

For 10 minutes in the middle of the day, I'll take it. The bass hit like tanks; they didn't know how small they were.

This evening I had been planning on kayaking Mallard Lake, now that I've got the Dupage county license to do so... But with 15 mph with gusts up to 30, I knew it would mean a frustrating outing. At the last minute I changed my mind and decided to wade Salt Creek.

I've never heard of anybody targeting green sunfish- not for bait- but that was exactly my plan. I wanted to go wading on a Monday night, 5 minutes from my house, and catch a bunch of fish. Beside the gale-force wind, it was a perfectly fantastic outing.

Perhaps you might think it's silly to wade in a tiny creek only home to tiny fish; or a waste of time... But just like the local pond is a smaller version of a lake, the creek is a scaled-down version of a river. All the same rules apply. There are still riffles, pools; seams, undercut banks... It's just all in miniature. The water was surprisingly clear, so as I fished I could not only view all the structure in the river, but I could see where my fish came from. Learning to fish a little creek will help me understand bigger moving water, just like learning to pond fish pays off in larger lakes.

It was incredibly informative. I learned that, in Salt Creek this evening, green sunfish prefer to be in the shade, under trees if possible, and in whatever deeper water is available. In any given stretch, I took a long hard look, and made a guess cast to where the fish would choose to be. Most of the time I was right, which was a prize in itself! And then there was this feisty, underrated, and very pretty little fish that I kept catching.

Greeny

I was having a great time. I explored the creek, slowly wading downstream; I saw a raccoon crawl down almost into the water and disappear into a hole in the bank. I saw a muskrat waddling along, oblivious to my presence. I noticed tons of little baitfish hanging out in the miniature eddies that appeared occasionally. It seemed like the creek didn't have too many places for fish to be; no big boulders, not too much downed timber, no obvious fish-holding spots. I wonder if the channelization of the original stream caused those things to disappear.

Call me silly, but I was perfectly happy to catch these little fish. I was catching more fish in this outing than any of the 113 previous outings this year. It was great.

And then, after hooking into a little greenie in the shadow of an undercut bank, I saw a long green shape suddenly lunge out from the darkness and take a swipe at my hooked fish.

And then it was gone.

I froze, forgetting I had a fish on my line, and questioned the reality of what I just saw. It looked a little like a bass, but was much longer. I saw a flash of scales that appeared green through the water. But so did most things when viewed through this water... I estimated it's length at three feet, but it could have been less. I quickly ran down the list of possible species... I concluded it was either a bass- a BIG bass, a pike, or a musky.

It was a BIG fish. It dwarfed my 5" green sunfish. I know musky or even pike may sound ridiculous to you reading this, an account of fishing in a little polluted creek... But Busse Lake flows into Salt Creek, and they stocked musky at Busse. There's even a picture on the internet somewhere of a guy holding a Salt Creek musky. So it's not completely out of the question.

But even if it were a bass, it was certainly a very big fish. And for the water it was in, practically a trophy-sized fish.

Obviously I fished that spot for about an hour after the sighting.

I threw everything- I got some follows on my new little spoon, but I think it was just little greenies. I used a green sunfish as bait, which seemed like a great idea considering that's what triggered the attack in the first place.... But I never saw that large flash of scales again. Eventually, as the sun began to set, I decided to call it a day. As I waded upstream, it occurred to me how much more difficult it was than wading downstream. My thighs and calves burned. The wind tore through my ears and threatened to blow my hat off. I caught some more fish, and it was ok. I ended up catching 11 green sunfish, which is 1 more than my record this year of number of fish in one outing.

The idea of that giant fish swimming so close to my house will keep me up at night; I'll have dreams of catching whatever it was the next time I go down there. It's amazing, you just don't know what's in the water... until you catch it.

EDIT: Writing this now, after the fact, I suddenly remember I noticed that fish in the picture looked like it's pelvic fins were bitten off. Maybe there is some other reason it's missing fins, but for now I'm just going to assume they were taken by the giant aquatic creature I caught a glimpse of.

Saturday on the creek

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's a lot of line

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

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

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

I don't have any lures like this one

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

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

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

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

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...

Kayak wading Salt Creek

I'm going to attempt a short post.

I realize I often write and write and write, probably to the point of rambling. I'm going to try a new thing here, and write a short, succinct post. This trip is a good candidate for that, since not much happened.

Even though there was a cold front coming through (I was in a kayak in Beck Lake when it happened, and let me tell you it was definitely cold) I had to get out and do some more exploring. My kayak was already strapped to my car, and my waders were already in the trunk, so I headed out. I stopped by Salt Creek a few days ago to check it out, but had a hard time getting into the water. I figured I'd take the kayak out, and if I found some fishy spots I could get out and wade.

While I unloaded the kayak, a forest preserve officer in a truck watched me. I wondered if I was doing something wrong and was about to get a ticket or something. Once I got the kayak to the water, he moved along. Got the yak in the creek, two rods in the rod holders, waders on, fishing vest stuffed with gear, and off I went.

Kayakin' the Salt

This was the first time I've kayaked with waders, and I love it. I got out of the yak about 15 times to fish promising spots, but didn't get even a hit. I'm sure the cold front doesn't help. I've heard of pike, musky, and even smallies in the creek, but I've only caught panfish and tiny largemouth bass in it so far. I threw some inline spinners (I love how they look in current), jigs and twisters, tubes, cranks, but nothing.

It was a nice paddle up the creek, and it was fun to float back, casting the whole way. A lot of the creek where I was had a very rocky bottom, which is very different from the bottom farther north. Where I usually fish it it's a mucky mud bottom. The water down here was also much clearer, about a foot of visibility. Although residential areas surround the creek, at times I felt like I was much farther away from civilization. Except for the jumbo jets flying overhead every five minutes on their way to O'hare, the busiest airport in the world, a few miles to the east.

I spent about two hours in the creek, and it was a very enjoyable experience. I saw plenty of baitfish, so I'm sure there are gamefish around. I found the baitfish by trying to read the water, to figure out where fish might be... And at least as far as baitfish are concerned, I found them! Now I just have to find whoever is eating the baitfish. I'd love to catch some nice bass wading in a stream 15 minutes from my house.... I'll definitely be back.

I hit the retention pond on the way home, and nada there too. Oh well, the season is just starting, and I'm getting tons of casting practice.

Skunked, skunked, and skunked again

In an effort to take advantage of the amazing temperatures we were having, I've been fishing like a madman. Unfortunately, I don't have much to show for it in terms of fish caught. Reading reports on Windy City Fishing leads me to believe I might be the only one not catching huge numbers of fish! Alas, I figure the more I fish, the better I'll get, and eventually I'll be able to land many fish per outing.

On the other hand, because I seem to get skunked so often, it's incredibly exciting for me to land even one fish! I'm still very new to fishing, and I still get a huge thrill landing even the dinkiest baby of a fish.

Since I haven't been catching much, I decided to condense all my recent trips into one post. Here goes...

WEDNESDAY 3-21-2012 - The Pond

the pond at night

I decided to try night fishing the pond, I wondered if the higher-than-normal daytime temperatures might entice a bite out of the bass there. I read some reports of other fisherman having nighttime success, so I headed out to the pond. Long story short, nada. It was a great time, a very nice air temperature, and it was very relaxing to cast in the dark. There were a few splashes near me, but the bass weren't interested.

Every now and then I heard a very strange sound, and I listened carefully to figure out what it was. Eventually I realized it was a bug zapper at a house across the pond. ZAP! ZAPZAPZAP! Some bugs were meeting their maker.

I also heard (and saw glimpses of) bats flying around the pond, probably enjoying a feast of newly hatched bugs. I definitely appreciated their handiwork, since I wasn't being bothered by any bugs whatsoever. It's very cool to hear bats chirping as they fly through the darkness; as they flew around me their chirps were moved across my stereo image (it's an audio thing) which was very interesting!

THURSDAY 3-22-2012 - Salt Creek

Three herons (I think)

The next day I had some time on my way home from work, and I decided to check out a new stretch of Salt Creek. The creek runs north to south near my house; I think Busse was created by damming it up. The creek flows from Busse down through a variety of industrial and residential areas, before eventually meeting up with the Desplaines River (I think, I'm still mapping it in Google Earth). I saw a huge number of minnows (maybe some were tadpoles?) and found a very nice kayak/canoe launch. Will definitely have to kayak from here sometime.

Stood on the bank for about an hour, throwing a variety of lures with no takers. Up closer to Busse, the creek definitely seems like a creek.. But down here, it is a little wider, and seems like a small river. I'm sure there are game fish in this stretch, just have to figure out how to catch them...

FRIDAY 3-23-2012 - Busse Lake


Had some time after work, so I headed to Busse for about an hour. On my way I stopped at Dick's to pick up some stuff, including a red craw-pattern rat-L-trap, which has been killing it in the area on bass.

Second cast, I hook the craw on a rock, and somehow manage to break my braided line. What the hell, Busse!? Well that's $5 I'll never get back. I need to figure out how to make rat L traps.

There were two guys fishing right on the dam on the main pool side; I couldn't quite figure out what they were going for. It looked like they were casting right into the pool under the small dam, but they didn't seem to be catching anything. I wondered if any fish were gathering under the dam.

the north pool dam at Busse

Saw another guy shore fishing in one of my favorite spots, and he was getting bite after bite on a worm/salamander/creature softbait. It was great to see someone getting action at Busse! He managed to catch at least one when I was there.

After a while I had to go, but I'd be back... I wanted in on the action.

SATURDAY 3-24-2012 - Busse Lake

it was foggy

I've been eager to get the kayak out since January. Finally the time had come! Friday night I loaded up the kayak on my car, went to Dick's and got some supplies for my fishing vest. I used the vest wading for steelhead in Michigan a couple weeks ago (or was it last weekend?) but I just put my lures loose in the pockets. That resulted in a few small holes in the pockets, and a few larger holes in my hands. Apparently people use small tackle boxes in the pockets. Who knew!?

So I put together an assortment of lures in a few small tackle boxes, filling my fishing vest with everything I'd need. I had a soft plastics tackle box with tubes, worms, creatures, bullet weights, and hooks; I had a jig box with twister tails, grubs, and jigs of all sizes; then I had a crankbait box with a selection of my favorite crankbaits, including some handmade ones from Mike Muston of Flushing, Michigan, Their action is incredible!

Got up extra early saturday morning, ate some oatmeal, drank some (not enough) coffee, and set out in the dark... for Busse Lake. Why did I choose Busse, where I've been skunked so many times before? Reading reports, it seemed many people have been KILLING it at Busse. I wanted in on the action! I still have never caught a bass in the kayak.

I drove to Busse, noticing that all the entrances were closed except the one I wanted to enter- the Higgins road entrance near 290. I arrived just about at sunrise, and there were already about 15 cars parked inside the preserve. Wow, I guess I wasn't the only one trying to get out today. I quickly unloaded the kayak, parked my car, and was in the water in about 10 minutes.

I caught this deep diving crankbait
on a texas-rigged plastic worm

The fog was incredible- the air temperature was rather cold, but the water was warm. I think that situation will cause fog every time- but I don't really know science. It was great fun paddling through the dense fog, only being able to see a little bit in front of me. It was like a tylenol commercial for baby boomers. Not sure why I thought that...

I worked the shoreline with a variety of lures, nothing. I trolled a crankbait, nothing. I worked the channel near the boat launch, some shallow areas that seemed like nice spawning grounds, and even some downed timber where that guy had success the night before, and nothing. I did however manage to catch a new lure, looks like a deep diving crankbait. Nice! I've found so many nice pieces of gear at Busse, it lessens the blow of the almost expected skunk. It was a great outing in terms of kayaking, but alas I went home without any fish pictures.

SATURDAY - part 2 - Salt Creek


I decided to head back to Salt Creek again, this time with my waders. I got there about an hour before sunset, and was really hoping for some bites. I put my waders on, threw on my fishing vest (which by the way is an awesome way to carry tackle! So convenient, and I can travel lighter. No big tackle box needed... Just grab what I need from my pockets. I love it!)

I stepped into the water, and that's when the problems started. First of all, the water was extremely muddy, flowing quickly, and filled with big rocks. I didn't have my wading staff. As I attempted to enter the water, every move was stopped by a huge rock I couldn't seem to get around. Finally, I was able to get around the rock, but then suddenly discovered there was a two foot dropoff just on the other side! I almost ended up swimming in the creek instead of wading. I tried to find some other spot to enter, but nothing. All along the banks it seemed the creek got very deep, very quickly. There seemed to be no easy way to enter the water.

I tried hiking up a path, looking for another entrance. I found a bridge which looked promising. I was about to step in the water, when it occurred to me I'd better check the depth. I stuck my rod in the water, tip down, to get a sense of the depth. Almost the whole rod went in the water- vertically- and it was clear that this spot had a four foot dropoff. Not a good idea to step in!

Discouraged, I fished a bit from the bridge. Scanning the water, trying to remember everything I've read about river fishing, I tried to make sense of what I saw. Which ones were riffles, which ones were pools? I found an area where the water flowed in a circle, and the current seemed much weaker. It was also under some bushes. Sure enough, when I cast my jig n twister, I got some bites! Unfortunately I couldn't get anybody to commit, and once again ended up leaving empty handed so to speak.

This guy grabbed my lure and shoved it into his mouth
Then he spit it out for me. Thanks frog!

I did end up hooking a frog accidentally with a white jig n twister. He grabbed it with his hand and shoved it into his mouth! I didn't know frogs did that. I tugged on the line and he quickly spat it out. I'm glad I didn't hurt him, I like frogs.

It's always great to get out, and I like exploring new areas, even if I'm skunked. I'll definitely have to come back here with a kayak, and see if I can find one of those elusive Salt Creek muskies.

Salt Creek at Sunset

Salt Creek at sunset

Had a little bit of time to get out today, so I took the opportunity to hit up some water! Once again, due to it's distance from my house, the Fox was out of the question... I decided to visit a place I'd been wanting to fish. I headed to Salt Creek at Arlington Heights Road, which is at the southern tip of Busse woods. I've fished Busse a whole lot, and once even fished the pool there on the south side in a kayak, but never on foot.

Long story short, didn't get a thing. There was another guy fishing at the pool who also didn't catch anything. I "hiked" up the creek to the dam, where nobody else was catching anything. I didn't stay for long; I headed back to the car, then drove to my sure-fire creek spot.

The sun was out and bright, on it's way to setting; the wind was pretty fierce. Even though the air temperature wasn't too bad (45°F I think) I quickly got cold due to the wind. Good thing I had all my layers and my fancy L.L. Bean fuzzy-lined flannel underneath my vest. I busted out my new rod - my one and only ultra-light - and really enjoyed the feel of the small jig on the small rod. I can't wait to land a good-sized fish on it. I'm sure it will feel like a whale!

Within a few minutes, I had a fish! Not a good-sized fish, not a whale.

Very small, but bigger than the shiner yesterday

The fish at this spot, seemingly any time of the year, want nothing to do with artificial lures of any kind (except jigs, as long as there's nightcrawler on them). Nobody wanted my hair jigs, which only slightly offended me. I thought they looked pretty nice. The one above was caught on a nightcrawler on a tiny (1/16oz?) jighead. So was second and last fish I caught today.

So there you have it, catch #2 and #3 of 2012. And each one is bigger than the last! At this rate, by December 2012 I should be landing 60 pound catfish from the retention pond.

Fish #3 of 2012

First fish of 2012

I hear hair jigs are good in the winter, so I made some
(They aren't perfect, but I'm learning!)

Saturday I made some hair jigs (thanks again to Mark for letting me borrow his fly tying kit) with the intention of hitting the Fox Sunday morning/afternoon. I consulted with the good folks at windycityfishing.com, and got some tips (thanks Ken!) I was excited to hit the water, especially to return to the Fox. Although each place I've fished has it's own appeal and everything, I think fishing the Fox River is my favorite- the smallies there are so fiesty, the scenery is so beautiful, and traveling out there is like taking a mini-vacation. As much as I enjoy fishing Lake Michigan 10 minutes from my job in downtown Chicago, there's something to be said for "getting out of town."

Anyway, I had my tacklebox full of my new hair jigs, some of my crankbaits, spinners; my goal was to just catch a fish- any fish. It would be great to catch a smallie, but even better to land a walleye! As far as I know I've never even hooked into a walleye or pike; to that end, they are my main goals for 2012! Of course I'd really like to catch some salmon or trout from Lake Michigan, but that almost seems like a completely different sport.

So Sunday morning I packed up the car, loaded my gear, put on long underwear and many layers of flannel, but couldn't find my wallet. Long story short, Claire I spent about two hours looking for my dumb wallet; I checked the movie theater we'd been to the night before, as well as the pizza place, and nothing. My wallet was gone.

That put a big dent in my fishing plans, and really messed everything up! I had a lot of things in that wallet, most importantly my credit cards, driver's license, Metra and CTA cards... and my fishing license!!!

As it turns out, a few months ago I upgraded my license to include a trout stamp- but I still have my non-trout stamped one! I think that still works, of course I can't fish for salmon or trout.

After a few hours of searching, we concluded it was GONE.  I quickly jumped in the car and drove to the retention pond with hopes of catching something today. There wasn't enough time for the Fox- it would be dark by the time I got there!

Frozen everywhere except the MIDDLE...

When I got to the retention pond, my hopes sank... In the 24 hours since I last checked it, the pond had mostly frozen over. There was still open water in the middle, but I couldn't reach it! There was a tiny bit of open water by the pipe, but it was completely dead. Nobody wanted my offerrings, even my brand new homemade hair jigs.

I glanced at my watch (the new awesome one I got for Christmas that tells me the moon's phase as well as sunrise and sunset - very helpful) and make a quick decision to hit one more place that might yield some fish. Hopped in the car, headed about 2 miles away, and about 10 minutes later I was at my spot on Salt Creek.

Looks cold! It was actually quite pleasant, around 45°F and no wind

I'd caught tons of little fish here, mostly bluegill and sunfish, a few crappie and one tiny largemouth. This time I had the good sense to bring some nightcrawlers with me- I was on a mission to CATCH A FISH!

I don't normally fish with a bobber- I like to work my lures through the water - but I had limited time and thought that might be the most successful. I had two rods- one I rigged with a bobber, the other with a hair jig.

First "cast" (more like a plop into the water) the bobber started jumping around like crazy. Fish! For the next 15 minutes I tried to hook one of the many tiny fish terrorizing my crawler, to no avail. I caught glimpses of them through the water, little sparks of silver that immediately disappeared into the dark but clear water.

Finally, after letting my bobber sit there for a while, I managed to land my first fish of 2012!

What a lunker!

I'd never caught a fish like this, and had no idea what it was... I think it's some kind of minnow, maybe a creek chub? Edit: thanks to Dan the Impractical Fisherman  this fish has been identified as a shiner. And yes, I know it's tiny... But they can't all be huge! That also means my catches of 2012 can only get bigger from this point on.

A while later, while fishing a (not homemade) panfish marabou jig (I think that's what it's called, in bright chartreuse and black) I got a BIG hit from something, but I couldn't entice it to chomp down again. The sun was setting, the wind was picking up and it was getting colder; time to head home.

Great start to 2012. I wonder how many times I'll be able to get out before it gets real nasty out there... Maybe winter will only last a month, and I can start kayaking in March. That would be awesome....

Chris Beckstrom: Suburban kayak adventurer

my adventure- distance paddled: 5 miles. distance portaged: 1/2 mile

I'm pretty fascinated with the idea that so many bodies of water are connected, and it's possible to travel between them in a boat or something (or if you're a fish, just swimming). It's pretty cool to think that before there were roads and expressways, the indigenous people of the area (and european "explorers") used the waterways as their transportation (and of course a major source of food!)

Busse Lake

When I discovered that our new house was a mile from Salt Creek, which connects to Busse Lake - one of my most frequented bodies of water - I immediately thought "whoa, that means I could kayak from near my house to Busse!" Just the idea of that made me excited. I can't really explain it, but traveling a distance in a kayak just excites me. I've fished Salt Creek a bunch of times, and always had great luck in numbers, if not size. Tons of bluegill, pumpkinseed, some crappie, even the smallest LMB I'd ever caught.

Of course, there's no real need to kayak up the creek to Busse- I have a car carrier for my yak, and could just as easily drive up there and launch at Busse proper... But kayaking the 3-ish miles upstream to Busse to go fishing seemed like an adventure worth having, and Sunday was the day to do it!

this awesome spider was hanging out where I launched
(the internet tells me it's a female
"garden spider," Argiope aurantia )

I woke up at 4am, drank my coffee, ate my oatmeal, grabbed my crawlers and frozen water bottles out of the fridge, sprayed down with bug spray, and hopped in my car, kayak and fishing gear loaded a few short hours ago before I went to sleep. My plan was to be on the water by 5am, and I roughly estimated I could be to Busse by 6am, just in time for sunrise and good fishing. And there is such a thing at Busse, I promise!

Reading this account, please keep in mind that in general, "the outdoors" is a completely new thing to me. Just a few short years ago, the idea of waking up before 9am if I didn't have to was incomprehensible; I couldn't stand to be in 75°F heat longer than a few minutes; I had always been an "inside kid." When my friends were outside playing, I was inside practicing saxophone or playing video games. I don't regret that at all; I still love music, computers, video games, and playing the saxophone. So this whole waking up at 4am to go kayaking is a pretty radical thing for me...

I'm either going mining or kayaking in the dark

Anyway, since I'm so new to all this, sometimes key things don't occur to me. Things like at 5am in the summer, it's dark. Of course intellectually I knew this, and the whole reason I was launching so early was predicated on this fact... But I didn't think about how I would not only launch in complete darkness, but paddle for an hour before the sun came up.

Good thing I had my LED headlamp! Best purchase ever, after the kayaks and collapsible fishing rod of course. The water level was so high I the kayak floated in the tall grass that is usually 20' from the water. I hopped in, and paddled through what is normally definitely land. About a million bugs fell on me as I made my way through the grass, something that even 3 months ago would have creeped me out so much I would have turned around right then... But not today. I brushed them off, and shortly I heard the quiet gurgling sound that meant I was in open water, in the creek proper.

It was so dark. It was 5am, the sun wasn't showing up in full force for at least an hour, and the many trees lining the banks blocked whatever light there was in the sky- so it was very dark. My LED headlamp illuminated just enough in front of me I could avoid logs and branches, but not a lot more. This was a surreal experience, paddling in basically complete darkness, surrounded by buzzing insects, knowing there was a myriad of wildlife on all sides, but not being able to see any of it. Illinois law says any water craft must have the appropriate lights to legally be on the water in darkness, but since it didn't occur to me it would be so dark, I didn't equip my kayak with lights.

As I paddled, I tried best I could to keep to the middle of the creek, avoiding blocked areas, and trying not to get too close to the shore on either side (the bugs really intensified a few feet from the bank). I looked around with my headlamp, and I was surprised to see many pair of eyes reflecting back at me. Honestly, I didn't know that was a real thing! I thought it was just in disney cartoons animals in the jungle watched from the dark- but nope, it was real. I was as anxious about it as I was curious.

At one point a pair of eyes near the top of a tree was clearly watching me. I couldn't tell what it was, maybe a raccoon? A possum? To big to be a squirrel. I stopped paddling. The animal came down the tree a little bit, and looked back at me. We stared each other down, trying to figure out what we were looking at. The animal came closer; it was as interested in me as I was in it. It was too dark to really see what it was, but I enjoyed my animal-nature-bonding moment.

something tells me they know where the fish are

Back to paddling, I started to see more detail in my surroundings. Although I knew from satellite pictures there were residential and commercial areas on all sides of the creek, from where I was sitting I could have been in upstate New York, or the Everglades, or some remote creek in Montana or Canada somewhere. There was so much wildlife! I heard the quacking of ducks, who seemed to be swimming the same route I was paddling, only a few yards in front of me. I saw the silhouettes of many many heron in the trees; a few times my presence startled them and I was delighted to hear the sound of their wings beating the air only a short distance above my head. A few fish jumped all around me. This is what is so great about kayaking- since paddling is very quiet, you can get extremely close to wildlife before they realize you're there.

The sun was higher in the sky, and I noticed fog all around me, my headlamp turning everything white. The fog was rising from the water, something I'd often seen early in the morning, but I'd never been in it's midst when it was happening! This was great. This was exactly what I wanted to experience.

on the great salt creek

I passed under some bridges, counting them to get an idea how far a distance I had to my destination. I'd been studying the map and satellite photos, and I figured by this point I was more than half way. The water level was so high, on one bridge I had to recline in the kayak to avoid hitting my head.

Planes flew overhead, the ducks maintained their distance in front of me, and I seemed to be following a bunch of herons, who were doing what I would soon be doing- looking for fish. Fog rose all around me, bugs buzzed, the sound of my paddling was so soothing I didn't even notice how much my arms were burning until I stopped to drink some water and coffee. This was by far the farthest I'd ever paddled all at once, and I'd never paddled continuously for so long. If I stopped paddling, I would start to go downstream, away from Busse, so I had to keep paddling!

Finally I got to the Arlington Heights Road bridge, which was the dividing line between the residential area and Busse woods. I made it! Part of me wasn't sure I'd be able to make the almost 3 mile journey in the kayak, against the current, but I made it. There was a pool just inside the preserve that was my first fishing stop.

arlington heights road bridge, the dividing line between the world and Busse, my destination

Once I got into Busse, the current went away, and I could calmly float as I prepared my rods. I started with a 1 oz. white spinnerbait, hoping to entice some of the fish jumping around me to hop into my kayak for a quick hello and a picture. I'd never caught a bass in the kayak, I really hoped this would be the day. I put a crawler on a 1/16oz jig with a bobber, and wet that line as well.

A few minutes later a fisherman emerged from the forest, rods and bucket in hand. I think I surprised him; I was only about 10' from the shore, and he didn't notice me until I said "hello." He said he was fishing for carp and catfish, and he'd caught some pretty big ones in this pool. I wished him luck, and he followed the shoreline to his spot.

After a half hour, I didn't even get any nibbles. It was time to move on, so I bid my fishing friend farewell and paddled north. The water came back to a creek's width for a bit before it met with Busse's south dam, and that was where I planned on portaging to get to the main pool.

As soon as I rounded the bend, I saw a huge fallen tree blocking the entire creek. It was creating a small rapids, and making what I thought was going to be a smooth paddle very difficult. I adjusted my rod holders so my rods were horizontal - to avoid hangups on the tree - and prepared to navigate through the obstruction. Let's do it!

Well, it wasn't going to happen. Not only was the current extremely strong - flowing in the wrong direction, but there were branches everywhere, scraping my neck and dropping spiders on me. I could barely get the paddle out of the water before it hit branch after branch. I scanned the banks for a possible portaging route, and that wasn't going to happen either- the high water level had changed the grassy area into a marsh, where I would certainly sink into the earth, unable to get to the main pool. My only real choice at this point was to go back to the pool and portage through the forest, reconnecting with the creek past the obstruction.

the great portage of salt creek

On land, I could see a path leading north, that I hoped would curve west again and meet the creek. I grabbed some rope from my tackle box, and tied it to the front of my yak. With my new knot-tying chops, I tied a few butterfly knots, which are great for making handles if you have to pull something... like a kayak.

I'm glad there was a trail

The ground was still wet from yesterday's rain, and so was the grass. This made it possible to pull my boat instead of carry it, which was pretty nice. I made my way through the forest, following a muddy path which I hoped would lead me to water sooner than later. As I pulled my yak, I was really glad I didn't bring an anchor, which would have made it even heavier. I felt like an explorer, portaging around an undiscovered stream through an unknown forest, not knowing what I would find on the other side. Obviously people had been here before me, but it was true I didn't know what would be on the other side.

What was on the other side was a parking lot. I knew this lot was quite a bit west from the creek, and even farther south from the main pool. I decided I'd better follow the bike path instead of trekking through the forest- I was wearing shorts, and can't yet identify poison ivy and stuff...

I dragged my yak along the wet grass until I got to the bike path that goes over the south dam (where Busse spills back into Salt Creek). Many bicyclists passed me, many of them looked perplexed by what I was doing... As they should have been! I got the kayak over the bike path, down the rocks, and back into the forest. I had fished this spot before, I knew the water was very close and there wasn't a steep dropoff- perfect place to launch.

herons know what's up with fishing

Got the yak in the water, pushed past the tall plants growing out the marshy area, and I was on the water! To my left was the south dam, where many families seemed to be having a great time fishing; to my right was a fishing wall, lined every foot with a fisherman; in front of me, on the other side of the lake, was a shoreline lined with fallen timber and weeds. I saw a heron perched on a tree very close to the water, and in the blink of an eye it's knife-life beak went into the water and pulled out a fish.

I don't have a fish-finder on my kayak, so I have to rely on other clues to find fish. I study depth maps like a crazy person, I take careful note of weedlines and what look like dropoffs from the surface, and I always watch the birds. The birds are fishing too, and they usually have a better idea where the fish are than I do- so I go where they are. 

sorry I stole your spot dude

I got to the spot where the heron was (it flew away- like most fisherman, herons aren't fans of b**** fishing - when another fisherman fishes in your spot). I dropped a line in the water, hoping the fish didn't notice my paddling and were still in the area.

Sure enough, a few minutes later I pulled out the first fish of the day!

thanks mr. fish, you made it all worth it!

I can't express how happy I was to have gotten this dink fish in the boat! I was so incredibly happy, not only to break my 3-4 day skunk, but to have made it to my destination, and successfully caught a fish. Small as it was, this was a trophy fish to me. I thanked it profusely, and was glad it seemed fine when I carefully placed it back in the water. This fish did me a tremendous favor, and I was eternally grateful. I have often gotten the skunk at Busse, and catching a fish there at all is a big feat- but especially today!

I continued to catch fish on my 1/16oz chartreuse jig and nightcrawler, rigged without a bobber. The fish were hanging out just past the weedline, toward the bottom. The heron had unintentionally tipped me off to a great spot! I hoped the bird had found another and could get enough to eat. I think you're supposed to tip your fishing guide- if it had still been around, I definitely would have tossed it a fish to say "thanks."

Each fish I caught was bigger than the last, I was slayin'em at Busse! After the bite died down in that spot, I moved north along the coast to find some more fish. I found a good looking spot, where there was a nice change from weeds to open water, a large dropoff, and there were a bunch of ducks eating. Thanks to the birds, again, I began catching fish. Some more bluegill/pumpkinseed, again I was incredibly elated. At this point I decided to rename my kayak the S.S. Silent But Deadly, for her silent fish-hunting ability.

Then I hooked into a fish that seemed to be bigger than the others, and had a very different fight. To my astonishment, I pulled out this awesome fish:

perch! at busse!

At first I thought walleye. I'd never caught a walleye, and I thought they look kind of like this... But the eyes were wrong, and the teeth weren't right... A perch!!?? At Busse!!?? I'd never heard of anyone catching perch at busse; I thought perch were only found in deeper, bigger lakes, and of course Lake Michigan. Who knew!!? Not me.

I snapped some pictures and quickly re-cast to the same area, just along the bottom at the dropoff. I knew perch usually hung out in schools, so if there's one I might be able to catch more. I did!

The school of perch must have been a class of two, because that's all I caught. I decided to move on, working my way up the coast. Wasn't getting any action, although I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I had come a long way, had caught fish, and the day was still young. After hitting some nice-looking spots (and seeing one of my heron friends again) I decided to move toward the south pool/main pool dam where I'd caught some nice bass in the past. Actually that's where I'd caught my largest bass ever, at night, on a black spinnerbait.

The sun was up in full force, not much wind, not many clouds, and I tried to think where I would be if I were a fish. Well first of all, I'd be in the shade. I headed to a promising spot- sunken wood, weeds, shade, and I cast.

what a pretty fish

more perch

Fish on! This was turning out to be a great day fishing. I caught some more gills, and pulled out another perch. What!?? How is it after all the times I'd fished Busse, I'd never caught a perch, and now I was catching a bunch of them? Maybe they prefer to be as far from shore fisherman as possible, maybe they know how tasty they are.

As morning turned to early afternoon, the bite died down. I worked some more spots, to no avail. The fish were taking a siesta in either deep or in the shade, and I got the hint that maybe I should do the same. My lovely wife agreed to come pick me up, as I wasn't mentally prepared to do the reverse portage and long paddle back to my car. I headed toward the boat launch, completely satisfied with my suburban kayak angling adventure, happy that I made it in one piece, caught a new species (for me, on that lake), and all-in-all had an incredibly great morning.

next time I'll be sure to tip my guide with a nice juicy bluegill