Claire caught a monster!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Claire got a biggun

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty little fish

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

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

Smallie stash

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

°°°

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

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

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

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.

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.

Kids throwing rocks, me catching fish

Suburban fishing

Originally Claire and I were thinking about going camping this weekend. We had a tent (thanks Kim and Leo!) and sleeping bags, but not much else. Instead of scrambling to purchase everything we needed at the last minute, we decided to get stuff now and camp next weekend. That meant two things: we ended up at L.L. Bean, I got some early birthday wading boots (!!) and we wanted to be outside. The temperature and sun were just right. Claire suggested we go fishing at a local reservoir, so we did.

We brought our new camping chairs, a little cooler, three rods, beverages, and Walter the Boston terrier. I'd like to call him our fishing dog, but he doesn't seem to care about fish whatsoever. He'll sniff for a second, then wander away, unimpressed. I visited this water before, noticing a couple doing exactly what we were doing: relaxing with a bunch of rods in the water. I remember looking down on their style of fishing. Why would you want to just sit there when you could be actively fishing? Only now do I think I know the answer. Well, there are two: carp and catfish. In fact, the same trip (in the kayak) I found what I later realized was a whole mess of catfish fry. I'll need to do some catfishing here later...

So we hung out, enjoyed the sun, and I watched what I could only assume we're carp wakes all over the water. I tried corn on a hook, then white bread squeezed around a hook; I even threw out little smushed pieces of bread to try and bring the carp in. I wonder if that technique is more of a cumulative thing, meaning I should do that every few days to create some awesome carp fishing...

Retention pond crappie

Claire hopped on her bike to do some laps around the trail, and no sooner had she left than I got my first and only fish of the day: a white crappie, around 8". My first of the year! It attacked a gulp minnow under a slip bobber, and didn't mind I used a piece of grass to keep the bobber in place. It works remarkably well, and grass is readily available and biodegradable. Walter was unimpressed. He was much more interested in watching the bike path to see who would be riding by next.

After a couple hours enjoying the sun, Walter rolling around in the mud like a little pig, and one single fish, we headed home.

Not too soon after getting back home and unloading the car, I got back in and made my way back to the Fox River. I have a great wife who lets me go fishing frequently and for long periods of time. The one stipulation is usually that I prepare some kind of food to eat; this time I fed her tomato soup and cast iron grilled cheese. I'm not a grilled cheese fan, but I'm fairly positive grilled cheese in cast iron is superior to every other kind out there.

Muddy dog

Anyway, soon I found myself back on the fox, the weather even nicer than the day before. I didn't even bring my jacket. In fact, I wore shorts and a t-shirt under my waders, and must say I enjoyed wading barefoot, so to speak. There was some kind of bug hatch going on, which started docile enough but would eventually crescendo into an all-out Chris attack-fest. At least it felt that way.

It must have been my third or fourth cast when I hooked into the first beast of the evening- and it felt very big. Based on my luck the previous day- 3 smallies and 10+ almosts- I was excited to jump back into the fray and fight some scrappy river smallies. This first one seemed big; it headed down, fighting with raw power. It took a minute or two to horse it in, and that's when I realized why it felt so big.

Somehow I had gut hooked it, the hook stuck in its chest instead of its mouth. I brought it close, and quickly lipped it so I could get the hook out in as little time as possible. This is where I face the eventual certainty of fishing: although I never want to hurt an animal for the sake of hurting it, and will only kill if I intend to eat it, the very act of fishing can hurt the fish. Although I certainly didn't mean to harm the fish, I was after all dragging a very sharp hook through the water, hoping a fish would out it's lip through the sharp point. There's some debate on whether fish feel pain or not, and like most people I can't know whether they do or not. I could rationalize and explain how it is I sleep at night, but the short answer is I try to avoid hurting fish as much as possible when fishing.

I felt horrible having harmed this beautiful creature in this way; I looked at its wound and it reminded me of some bird-inflicted wounds I'd seen on other fish. It occurred to me that although I don't intentionally hurt fish, there are plenty of animals who would love to make a quick meal out of any smallie, and we certainly can't find fault in that. They are animals, and all animals need to eat. Including us.

For a moment I considered keeping the fish for the table, as it was at least 14" (the legal minimum) and would rather eat it than let it suffer and die wantonly. But as I carefully removed the hook, I noticed the wound wasn't deep at all, and the fish seemed fine. I got the hook out, and held the bass in the water to see if it could swim away on its own. After a second, the bass chomped down on my thumb - hard- as if to scold me for injuring it. It burst away like the annoyed little rocket it was.

I'm new to the outdoors, to nature, to animals, but there's something that seems to be a recurring theme: nature doesn't care. A blade of grass growing in the sidewalk doesn't care it's not in the forest; a heron doesn't care if it eats an endangered fish; nature doesn't care if you're there or not, it will continue to do its thing. To the smallmouth bass, I was just another predator, and a dumb one at that. What predator would voluntarily set his prey free?

I was happy the bass was fine, hoped it would prosper, and wondered if the run-in with me would make it smarter and more wary in the future. Perhaps it would live longer because of this brush with death. It had a new lease on life. But perhaps it would die in a day due to an infection or something else. Either way I was pretty sure nature wouldn't loose sleep over it, even though I might.

Pretty nice fish right there, I think

But back to fishing. I managed to pull out two more bass with that same tube jig, standing in the same spot from the night before. One jumped from the water a few inches, shaking its head when it saw me. The other swam so fast and seemed so strong I was convinced it was some species new to me. Then I saw its bronze back, stripes and fiery red eyes and knew it was another smallie.

There were some teenagers hanging out near the shore, having an animated leaf race as they put leaves into the current. Then they started throwing rocks into the water. Although they were quite far from me, I found myself getting angry at them for disturbing my peaceful (well almost) fishing. Then I thought back to the few times I'd been on the water as a kid, and my first instinct had always been to pick up rocks and throw them into the water. It makes a fun splash!

Instead of yelling at the kids, I wondered what the fish thought of it. Stuff falling into the water happens all the time naturally, so really this wasn't anything fish hadn't seen before. I guessed they would swim away from the rock explosions, which just so happened to be in my direction. Turns out I might have been right, as that third smallie was caught seemingly escaping the rock explosions. It didn't care what or who was causing them, it just wanted to get away.

I kept fishing, but just like the day before the fishing suddenly dried up. As usual, I was faced with a few choices, not sure which would be the right one. Should I try a new spot? Should I switch lures and/or vary up my presentation? Did I catch all the fish in this part of the river?

What an awesome looking fish

The current was very strong, and a few cursory attempts to wade to other spots convinced me not to continue. Since I was pretty sure there were more fish there, I tried to entice the fish with a variety of other lures. Crankbaits, twisters, spinners, more tubes, but nobody would bite.

Recovered gear! And trash cleanup

Reluctantly I tried heading downstream, staying close to the shore and wading very slowly. The water was rushing fast even though I was far from the main current; a few times I felt close to loosing my footing in the river. I made my way to some fishy looking spots, managed a few hits on a twister, but no other luck. Besides the big eddy I'd been fishing in, almost the entire remainder of the river around me was a gushing torrent of water, constantly threatening to push anything and everything downstream. Nature didn't care.

When I looked over to pick up a Gatorade bottle trapped in some branches by the current, to my surprise I saw my lure from yesterday! You know, the one that snapped off my line and went flying downriver in the dark.

The sun was setting; I had hoped to fish a trench I knew of just a few yards out in the river. As I slowly attempted to wade out there, the sound of water bombarding my waders became deafening. The river was bullying me to go back to shore. This wasn't a fight I would win, so I let the river push me around and made my way to the shore. I found a trail and hiked back upstream to the eddy.

On the way back I saw a little snake, which turned out to be dead. Although nature didn't care, I enjoyed seeing a snake up close. Too bad he died, I thought, but he'll be a nice meal for some racoon or fish or bird sometime real soon.

I've been paying close attention to the ground lately, curious about what other animals hang out around the rivers' edge. I saw some shockingly big footprints in the mud, next to a few bike tracks. At first I though it was just a big dog, but I'm fairly positive they were coyote tracks based on some Internet "research." Don't know why I didn't take a picture. Maybe because it was dark and there was a coyote running around.

I fished the eddy until it was definitely dark, throwing most of the arsenal in my fishing vest. Even the stuff in my little backpack. No walleye obliged, nor did any more smallies.

Once again, my last cast was chosen for me, with a snap I saw my lure slowly arc into the air, flying away into the darkness. Maybe I'd find it next time.

Sparring with smallmouth bass

After a delicious meal of various BBQ'ed meats, beans, and cornbread with my lovely wife, there was only one thing I could do. Night fishing!

I started the "2012 Fishing Season" (i.e. January 1-December 31) with a few goals- catch a walleye and a pike. Since then I've been adding things like "catch a carp" and "catch a monster catfish on a live bluegill." I decided to try for the latter this outing. But first, of course, I'd have to catch a bluegill.

The pond was almost completely covered with thick, mucous-like weeds. In the dark, I could see only a few spots where the water surface reflected the cloudy sky. The rest was weeds. Using my new glow-in-the-dark bobber and my not-so-new glow-in-the-dark charger thing (looks like a glasses case; you put a lure inside and it flashes to make it glow) I was able to fish with a bobber in the dark. Pretty soon I had a nice bluegill that went after a 1" Gulp minnow.

Night fishing for bluegill

It seemed too big to use as bait, so I carefully tossed it back into the muck. That was a mistake, because I wasn't able to catch another one. That one must have told it's little brothers and sisters to avoid my offerings. I suppose I could have used it as "cut bait" (which is a nice way of saying "disassembled bluegill pieces") but I'm not ready for that yet. Seems cruel unless I'm the one eating it. Then again I don't feel that way about cutting up nightcrawlers, so where is the line?

I enjoy night fishing tremendously, especially when the weather is nice. Things are quieter than usual, except for the constant roar of the many expressways that surround our suburb. Sometimes I dream of living somewhere where there isn't an expressway ever few miles, but then I think of how inconvenient that must be. I wonder if I would prefer the convenience or the silence. Not to mention the planes flying overhead every three minutes or so; the pond is due west of one of O'Hare's landing paths, so there are always low-flying planes passing by. Sometimes loudly.

But yes, I still like it- and I also enjoy the new sound of frogs at the pond. I heard at least two different types of frogs croaking. Every time I hear frogs I'm amazed at how freaking loud they are. The whole pond was filled with the sounds of frogs, which helped drown out the expressways and the planes.

The next day, Saturday, I hit the road and headed west. I was standing on the bank the Fox River with my new wading boots 45 minutes after leaving my house. It was a beautiful day- warm enough I immediately took off my jacket and enjoyed wearing short sleeves while wading. Haven't had too many of those occasions since my first time wading back in October.

I walked up to the edge and saw a boil on the surface- I've been seeing a lot of that lately. I think it means big fish chasing smaller fish. I happened to have a black spinnerbait tied on (from the previous night at the pond) so I casually tossed it into the water. One hit, then another; seemed like I was getting stuck on branches.

And then in an erupting of water, a big smallmouth bass came to the surface, shaking it's head at me. From the shore, this looked like the biggest smallie I'd ever hooked into! My drag was set too loose, and it was able to pull out a ton of line. I couldn't keep the tension, especially not standing from the shore. As I admired it's size and tenacity, I noticed the spinner fly out of it's mouth and land on the shore next to me.

Well, that's ok, I thought. Maybe there were more.

After fan-casting the area, I carefully entered the water. Pretty soon I sacrificed my black spinner to the river gods, and tied on a lure that has been successful for me so many times before: The tube jig. Lately it seems the smallies want a very particular color- olive- and will pass up anything darker or lighter. I usually carry a variety of colors, and I've been testing them to see which ones get more hits. Perhaps it's more than just the color, but the smell or the material (I buy various brands indiscriminately) but I feel like it's the color.

And so began one of the most fun times fishing I've had yet this year! Hit after hit, smallies attacking the lure and quickly throwing it out of their mouths. Some came to the surface and I was able to see them. Most stayed down in the water, but I could feel them. I hadn't had this kind of action, well, maybe ever! Even though I wasn't catching any, it sure was fun to spar with strong river bronzebacks.

All of the sudden something changed, and I caught three in a span of ten minutes. Three! Most of my fishing trips this year ended in the skunk, only a few had a a single fish to post; this was excellent. I found them everywhere along the shore. I was standing in a big, extremely slow eddy that was far from the main current or any seams. These fish were just hanging out by the shore, ignoring the seams and current where I have found them in the past. My new buddy Sam Bennett and the internet tell me higher waters will push fish toward the shore, and this certainly was happening. With all the rain we've gotten recently, the Fox was high and strong, and these fish were chilling out feet from the shore.

I was glad they were, because when I tried to get close to any current, the strong flow gave me reason to turn back around and go back to the shore.

One of three nice fish caught on Saturday

All three were about the same size- around 12" and somewhat beefy. I find myself returning them to the water very quickly most of the time, not even thinking about weighing them or measuring them. I was just happy to catch them and return them safely to fight another day. Then again, if I caught a really big one, you can bet your ass I'd bust out the scale so I could brag to the nearest ounce and closest inch.

Another one (this one was fatter)

Just as soon as the smallie-fest began, it stopped, and they weren't hitting my tube anymore. I tried spinners, cranks, some new home-assembled swim jigs (football head jigs.. are those swim jigs?) and good old reliable twister tails, but no more takers. I tried a few other spots; I saw a carp swimming in very shallow water, it's dorsal fin sticking out of the water like a vegetarian shark, but no other fish volunteered to be pulled around the river.

The sun set, and I kept fishing. I really, really, really want to catch a walleye. The main reason is because I haven't done it before. Once I catch one, maybe I'll be satisfied. But until then, every chance I get, I'll be bombarding the river with skinny crankbaits at sunset, looking for Mr. Walter.

I tried casting my cranks along deep holes I had inadvertently discovered earlier. I hear they like holes and trenches. I also tried casting parallel to the banks, because I also hear they like to swim along the shore around sunset. If you've read ahead, you'll notice I don't have a picture of a beautiful walleye and me together. I did not hook into anything else after those smallies, as hard as I tried as night fell.

My last cast was decided for me: I made a hard, long cast downstream. Immediately I heard a small "ping" and watched my little crankbait fly through the air, untethered by any kind of fishing line. It was dark, and the water was rushing all around; I didn't even hear it splash in the water. Another lure sacrificed to the gods of the river, that they may someday permit me to find one of their elusive walleyes.

Sunset

CB makes a bow and arrows

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

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

Can you see the deer?

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

Geese and goslings (?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

What I had was this:

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

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

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

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

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

Adventures in Kayaking on the Fox River

loaded up and ready to go

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

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

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

my kayak, fully loaded and ready to do some fishing

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

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

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

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

Well at least I found some fish!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kaBAM! BAMABMAB!

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

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

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

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

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

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

the single fish of the day.. a beauty

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

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

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

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

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

Sam and Chris fish the Fox

Normally when I head out into the "wild" to go looking for some fish to catch, I do it alone. It's not that I necesarily disklike company when fishing, but more often than not I find myself standing in the river casting by myself. Being surrounded by other people most of the day on the Metra train, on the bus, in downtown, even in the lab, sometimes it's nice to be in the middle of a river only surrounded by fish.

Saturday was different- I'd been texting/emailing with Sam Bennett (of heysambennett fame on WCF and his own blog). Sam is starting up a new website for Fox River fishing and has asked me to contribute. You should definitely check it out- it's live at foxriverfishing.net. In our discussion of the site, Sam and I figured out a time and a place to go wading. In the middle of the afternoon I found myself in a parking lot, my green Mini cooper parked next to Sam's monstrous white Ford pickup.

We reached the water's edge, and already I'd learned a ton from Sam. He is a river fishing veteran, and as is obvious by my posts and few fish per outing, I'm still a newbie! Turns out Sam is the one who originally inspired me to start making my own lures, via a post in his blog. I just met the guy, but I'd been following his posts for some time now. We fished an eddy for a while, but after no interest was shown to our lures we hopped in Sam's truck and headed north.

The next spot seemed extremely fishy; lots of riffles (I think that's what they're called) and some areas of deeper water. Sam and I worked a variety of areas (well, I mostly fished one area. I don't move too fast in the water, partially because I'm still new at this and don't want to fall in). By the time I'd finished fishing a series of seams, Sam had pretty much fished the entire stretch of the river!

At one point I yelled "Fish!" only to land a thin but fish-like stick. I felt pretty lame in front of my new friend until the same thing happened to Sam later.

We weren't getting anything there, so he suggested we move again. This was great! I only knew one stretch of the river, but he knew many spots.

This new spot also looked very fishy, although the current was about the strongest I'd ever waded in. Once again Sam's experience and wading chops helped him get out into the river, while I almost tripped over every rock, my calves burning against the current. I was fairly positive I was about to fall in the river. Then, somehow, I didn't.

After a while here, both of us caught more than our share of weeds, and we moved on. We hit another spot that appeared to be super likely to hold fish, and Sam said in the past this was a dynamite spot. Of course it wasn't for us that day, so we headed to our final stop.

Along the way Sam told me about the mighty flathead catfish, his personal obsession on the river. After catching the biggest fish I'd ever caught last year - the 24" catfish out of the pond - it occurred to me that there are many more species of fish besides bass. What a shame it would be if I concentrated on only one species when there are so many different kinds of fish to catch! Hearing stories of 40 pound catfish, an apex predator on the river, I knew I would have to go fishing for them.

We reached a dam that is known to hold walleye, Sam continuing to give me tips and help me navigate the water and submerged rocks. We stood in the water casting crankbaits as the sun set, hoping to connect with some walleye. One of the many species I haven't caught yet is a walleye, and I was so glad to have Sam's help in finding one! I tried my purple X-rap (the one I found at Busse, thanks to Navyfisher for snagging it there) and then snapped on my $3 minnow from Meijer (I can't explain why, but I love it).

After some time the sun was completely set, and it was beginning to get pretty dark. Fishless, we emerged from the water. I didn't realize how cold I was until I was in Sam's truck with the heat on. My breathable waders didn't protect so much from the cold water! My big toes felt numb, like they might fall off... But they didn't. Soon I could feel the lower section of my body again, which was a nice change.

Sam drove me back to my car, sharing some more river secrets on the way, and giving me more mental images of giant catfish to daydream about. Although we hadn't found any fish, it had been a great outing with an experienced fisherman, and I learned a great deal!

Fishing in the wind and the rain

Wading in the rain

Sunday afternoon I found myself standing in the water on the Fox River, watching storm clouds fly far over my head. Occasionally they decided to open up and sprinkle me with water. Thankfully there was no thunder or lightening, so I stayed in the water fishing.

Counting up my trips now, I count this as my 45th fishing trip since January 1. That's a lot of fishing! But just like saxophone or anything else, practice makes perfect.

I worked a slightly different stretch than I usually do (thanks for the tips Ken) and it was great to do some exploring. This was my first time wading where I started in short sleeves (got my waders in October) but I quickly put on a sweatshirt on account of the hurricane-like winds.

Storms coming...

Lately I've been torn between working one lure in many different ways or many different lures more quickly... This trip I gave each lure about 20 minutes each to prove itself, trying to find out what the fish wanted. I mostly stuck with white jig and twister and olive tube jig, but I also threw a white spinnerbait, crankbaits, and a swimjig. I actually got hits on the spinnerbait, but they were surprisingly light. I mostly fished a particular seam, as well as an area right next to a rock wall.

They were hanging right up against the wall

I had it on good authority that there might be fish in this spot... I stood here for quite some time, throwing lures into the wall and watching them plop down into the water. My first cast here I got a hit right on the drop, but couldn't connect. Second cast with my olive tube jig, and a smallie smashes it like a semi running over a watermelon!

Chunky Fox River smallie

This one put up quite a fight too- I was surprised it didn't jump out of the water though... So far none of the smallies I've caught this year have done that. I guess the water is still a little cold- I bet in a few weeks they'll be back throwing my hook like in October.

What are these bones from?

Taking a break from fishing, I did a little exploring and found a bunch of interesting bones. They seemed like fish bones, but I couldn't figure out where on the fish they would come from... I wondered if they were the work of a lazy fisherman or a hungry animal.

Then I noticed a lure sitting on the rocks a few inches from the bones, which made me think it was the work of a fisherman. Looked like a lure a smallie would go for. I don't have anything against people keeping legal-sized fish for the table- but I always think of the smallmouth bass as a game fish, a fighting fish, not really for eating. I hope this one was of a legal size, if that's what the bones were from.

And I hope it was tasty, whatever it was. That's actually one of my greatest worries about harvesting fish- catching a nice fish and not giving it the honor of a delicious preparation.

If it's a nice fish with a nice fight, the least you could do is cook it up real nice out of respect.

Another new lure

Turns out this was my first found lure on the Fox! The lip was gone, but I have lure making supplies at home... I could fix it. It occurred to me that only one of the crankbaits I've been using was actually purchased by me- all the rest were found while fishing or kayaking. I think it evens out when I think about how many expensive lures I've lost on the first cast.

After about four hours of fishing with only a few light bites and one fish, I decided to throw in the towel and head home.

Busse strikes again

This late afternoon I decided to head back out. I guess the decision wasn't that hard, considering my recent fishing activity. I've been trying to find some more good water close to home, and picking apart the area via google earth, I realized the east branch of the Dupage River was about 20 minutes south of my house. There are smallies in the Dupage. I suppose I could have driven further south, but I really wanted to find a spot closer to my house where I could catch fish while wading.

East Branch of the Dupage River near Glendale Heights

I drove to a spot, waders on, walked to the river, walked in, and sunk down into muck. The river there was about 10' wide, 2' deep, and the bottom was pure mud and muck. As I stood there, I sunk down deeper as if I were in quicksand. There was no way I could wade this, and I doubted there would be fish in this stretch. I cut my losses and decided to head somewhere else. I still had my waders on, after all.

Why did I choose Busse? Busse, the lake that skunks me again and again, and only rarely gives me a fish or two? I'm not sure, even now. I like Busse, and I don't know why. Maybe I had hope from recent fishing reports of some people having luck there. I strapped the kayak to my roof, and was in the Busse's south pool in a matter of minutes.

As I was loading up the yak, somehow my pliers fell out of an open pocket in my fishing vest and sunk to the bottom of the lake. There was no way I could get them back in the 10'+ chocolate milk-like water.

I did a slow paddle around the big island in the south pool, and spent a long time trying to find a deep hole I've seen from depth maps. I threw crankbaits, wacky worms, rat-l-traps, and variety of other lures, but in classic Busse fashion, no takers. By the time I reached south shore, the clouds had intensified, and the temperature had come down a little. It was downright cold!

One of the nice things about being in a kayak is animals generally don't realize I'm there until I'm very close. This gives me the chance to see a lot of things up close and personal, like this duck that was about 10' from my kayak.

Busse duck, very close to my kayak

I worked the shoreline, following the island's shore before I paddled back to the boat launch. Occasionally I saw tell-tale mud clouds in the water, meaning I probably scared a bunch of carp as I paddled by. I'll definitely have to do some carp fishing at Busse... There are so many of them! I saw a bunch of other people fishing, but couldn't tell if they were catching anything. I half expected to be skunked at Busse, but it was ok. I really like kayaking, and if I'm going to kayak I might as well fish.

Evening on the Fox

Most of my trips to the Fox River have been in the morning. Last night I wanted to try some evening fishing, hoping the water would be warmer and there would be some more active fish.

A rare photo of me not holding a fish
I have so many layers on! Many of them are camo

Having learned my lesson on being super cold the day before, I was prepared this time. I had two pair of pants under my waders, two pair of socks, two sweatshirts (both were camo sweatshirts, helping my angling and outdoorsman credibility I think), and a warm winter hat. I started with my favorite fishing hat, my Bell's Two-Hearted Ale trout hat, but quickly put on the much warmer knit hat.

It was still windy, and the water was still super cold, but I wasn't nearly as freezing as I was the other day. I tried to think of what the fish wanted... In the cold water, I bet they weren't too active- I had a hunch they'd be holding in warmer water, not moving much. I also guessed they wouldn't be willing to travel much for a meal, so I'd have to get my lures right in front of them to elicit strikes. I'm still new to all this, so perhaps my guesses were wrong... But hey, you gotta start somewhere.

Sunset through the trees

Herons

I stuck with jigs, tubes, and some cranks I worked slowly, hoping to find some lethargic fish not too lethargic to take my lures. As I worked a variety of fishy-looking areas, I could have sworn I was getting some very light and tentative hits. I couldn't be sure, because I was fishing a lot of downed timber. It could have been tree branches. At one point I thought I had a solid hit, but when I retrieved my jig there was no fish on it- just a little bit of red (fish blood?) and a super little tiny maggot-looking bug. What the..? Should have taken a picture.

As the sun set, I was lucky enough to be on the river to watch the changing colors. I saw some very pretty ducks, hanging out in the same spot from yesterday; I saw three herons flying together, slowly and gracefully; and I saw some very interesting footprints. Some I thought were raccoon, some were definitely goose, but some made me wonder what they were.. Bobcat? Coyote? Don't tell my wife!

Using some brand new tubes from Cabela's, I was working a seam about 20' from shore. I cast downstream and slowly bounced the tube back toward me. And then there was a fish on! This one swam right toward me, and I had a hard time keeping the tension on the line- smallies can be fast. But I prevailed, and had yet another photo of me and a smallmouth bass to post.

Success! A small fish, but a fighter.
I always appreciate the underdogs.

I love the colors of these fish

This was it for the day- but as always, I was satisfied with one fish. I would have liked more, but the cold water apparently gave the fish other ideas. Perhaps someday I'll know what to present to the fish in these conditions, but for today I'm happy to land even one scrappy smallie.

Sunset on 355