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.

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.

Chris gets waders and walks into a river

my new stocking foot waders

As soon as the credit card was swiped and they handed me the box, I wanted to tear it open, put the waders on, and get into some water! Turns out, we still had some errands to run. So wading would have to wait...

That afternoon (Sunday) Claire and I got home, and I tried on the waders. I put my LL Bean boots over the stocking feet of the waders, this would work, I thought. Packed the car, and tried to figure out where I should go. My new fishing friend Rob (Osprey) offered a ton of extremely specific advice and tips on a particular spot on the Fox. As he explained what I should do, what I should use, and how I should use it, I typed everything in a text file so I could remember it later. I'm not so good at remembering things normally. It helps to have a record!

It was super generous for him to share all this information with me, I just hoped I could text him a picture or two of a nice fish. In the interest of not sharing secrets from other fishermen, I won't say where I went.. But I've seen pictures of monster smallies taken there. I was psyched. Hopped in the car, floored it, and I was off.

After a half hour drive through the countryside, I arrived at my destination. I jumped out of the car, and got into my new waders. I salvaged a broom handle they were going to through away at work; I drilled a hole in it and tied on some line, thinking I could use it as a stakeout pole for my kayak. Didn't work so well like that, but it might work as a wading staff (I think that's the right term). This would be my first time wading, and I was doing it alone; I figured better to be safe than sorry.

I had my clippers and jig buster around my neck, and used a carabiner to secure a small tacklebox. I suddenly understood why everybody has fancy fishing vests- this was a lot of weight on my neck! I clipped the wading staff line to my wading belt (didn't have anywhere else to attach it), and put on my boots. I won't lie, I felt like I was pretty awesome at this moment- it's one thing to dabble in fishing every few weeks (like I had done last summer)... But here I was, fully equiped with my own waders, tools, camo hat, and I even had some homemade lures in my box.

Who was this person in the car door reflection? Was this the same jazz-playing film-scoring hip-hop-loving video-game-playing indoor-kid I'd always been? It definitely was. But now, judging by my appearance, I was a real-life angler too.

There were a whole lot of people shore fishing, looked like they were going for carp or catfish. Their rods propped up, jingle bells afixed, they chilled out waiting to hear a jingle. Following Rob's advice, I entered the water in a very particular location- which luckily didn't interfere with anybody's lines in the water.

Immediately the rush of cold water swirled around my ankles. As I slowly, carefully waddled out deeper, the water got colder and I got a very weird sensation in my legs. It was just like when you get your blood pressure taken, but on my legs. I wondered if there was some pressure thing happening, especially since there was air trapped in the leg parts of the waders due to the wading belt. I stepped back to the shore for a minute, trying to figure out if something was wrong on my waders.... They seemed fine, and my legs' circulation wasn't being cut off, so I got back in the water.

the view from the water

It's a very unusual feeling, trying to walk in flowing water, feeling your way along with your feet and a broom handle. I couldn't see below the surface, so I was walking blind. I'd read a lot of articles and tips on wading, and I suddenly understood why everyone says it's best to present the current with the smallest surface area possible. If I faced the current, it definitely pushed me downstream a little bit, but if I turned and let it hit my left hip, everything was fine.

I was trying not to fall over, not drop my rod, and follow the detailed instructions Rob had given me. I wasn't sure that I found what he described, but it might have been. Being new to this, it was hard to figure out exactly what I was stepping on, whether it was sand or rocks or gravel or weeds. One of the most interesting things was the contour of the bottom. Intellectually I knew that there were holes and sand bars, but looking at the river with my unexperienced river-reading eyes, it just looks like it gets deeper and that's it. Not the case. There were boulders, holes, high points, steep drops, slow drops; all kinds of stuff going on just below the surface. Using my three "points of contact" - my wading staff and two feet - I made my way into deeper water, trying to position myself in a good fishing spot.

Not convinced I had reached my destination, but wanting to get fishing, I began casting a Heddon torpedo. This was one of the many lures I'd found floating at Busse while I was kayaking. It's not that I don't buy lures - I definitely do - but I also find a bunch!

A guy and a kid were fishing, perhaps doing a father-son thing, about 20' downstream of where I was. The kid was obviously bored with fishing, and decided to start throwing rocks into the water. Whenever I'm in these situations, I'm not sure what the right call is. I obviously didn't want him to throw rocks, possibly scaring away the fish. Not to mention the proximity to me! A few times rocks landed about 2 feet away from me. I turned around and gave him a stern look. His dad watched but said nothing. The kid saw me, then started throwing rocks in the opposite direction, away from me.

Back to the river, I was in my river-fisherman-impression mode. Riffles, holes, flats, these words tumbled around my head even though I didn't have a grasp on exactly what they all were. Remembering what Rob had instructed me, I fished accordingly. I found it frustrating trying to get my lure where I wanted it, only to have it pushed downstream by the current. There must be some trick to this. Maybe that's where waders come in- position yourself so you can get your lures in the strike zone. I tried moving out deeper, but once I was up to my collar bone, I had trouble casting and moved back to shallower water.

I threw the torpedo, big white spinnerbait, peanut-style crankbait (not sure if it was actually a peanut... I found this one too), chartreuse buzzbait, and I tried out some of my homemade inline spinners. I'm sure I tied on some other stuff, but right now I can't remember.

Either way, what I was doing was apparently not enough to entice the fish to play. I was starting to get cold. This water was like ice, even though it was well above freezing. At home, I was originally going to wear shorts and a t-shirt under my waders, but changed into jeans and a sweatshirt at the last minute worried about being warm enough. Good call Chris! Next time I'll need to wear some fleece pants, or long underwear, or both. Maybe some flannel would be good to. Wouldn't hurt my real-life-angler image either! Got to get some pictures of me in the waders, ideally holding a river smallie.

I moved around, trying different angles, hitting different spots, fishing with the current, against the current, across the current; I tried to hit the slower water next to faster water, the water downstream of obstructions (trees, etc), but nothing managed to get a fish on the end of my line. The whole time I was there, I didn't see a single fish jump or even bubble near the surface. Well, I might have seen one out of the corner of my eye, but I'm pretty sure that was one of the many shore anglers casting.

As the sun went down, I started to really freeze my ass off. The air temperature wasn't so bad, it was the frigid water that surrounded the lower half of my body. I looked at my old iPhone - also hanging from my neck (I used some fancy knots to afix it, by the way...) - and realized the clock wasn't right. It said 3:41am. I knew the park closed at sunset, but I didn't know what time it was. Seemed pretty close to sunset.

I carefully wading back to shore, the water flowing off the waders, hitting the rocks, and making its way back to join the rest of the river. My boots were rinsed clean of all the mud, I was warmer, and my new waders more than did their job of keeping me dry.

Packing up the car, I was satisfied. Although I had been thoroughly skunked by the Fox - my sometimes friend sometimes enemy - I did a new thing. In my mind, only a serious real fisherman type would do. In comparison to other fishermen I knew, either in person or on internet message boards, I know basically NOTHING about fishing. They've forgotten more about fishing than I know. But I was making progress.

Although I didn't have any smallie pictures to post, I definitely looked like a fisherman. And I felt like a fisherman.

Pike fishing the DPR

Another great day to be out

I'd read - on the internet of course - that fall was a great time to get into some nothern pike. Astute blog-readers or facebook fishing album stalkers might notice that nowhere is there a picture of me posing with a northern pike. This is not on purpose; I'd kayak-fished the DPR a few weeks back with the sole purpose of landing one of those toothy buggers. But that was not to be. 

In my research, it seemed like somewhere - maybe anywhere on the DPR would give me a good chance of finding some. The Fox apparently had a tiny pike population, I'd never heard of pike in the big lake, and I wasn't even going to consider Busse. So the DPR it was! I'd seen some recent posts of people landing pikes on the DPR, so I tried to figure out a good spot. I'd heard that farther north or farther south might have better populations. Based on some recent reports, I chose Allison Woods as my spot, and loaded up the car.

Saturday morning I headed out a little later than usual. I'd heard that pikes either have really good vision or really bad vision; either way, apparently they're easier to catch when there is more light. Seems to contradict other fish, but hey, if the internet says it it must be true. Armed with a selection of white spinnerbaits, mepps black furies, and roostertails, I drove with dreams of pike in my head.

I got to the entrance at 6:55am, almost 15 minutes after the published sunrise - which is when the park "opens." It wasn't open, there was a gate, which was padlocked. There was no way I could open it. I don't blame the guy who opens it- there's probably just one guy who has to get up early and open every entrance to every Cook County forest preserve! I don't know if that's true, but that's the way it seems.

I put my car in park, turned it off, and did some google searching for last-minute pike information.

who or what did this?

After 20 minutes, my patience had run out. Maybe there was a different entrance, that was open? I backed out my car and headed down the road, watching the woods for anything paved suggestion another entrance. I found one, but it too was locked. Damn! I turned around and headed to the first gate.

The gate-opener guy had just unlocked the gate, and was driving into the preserve. Awesome!

Within a few short minutes, I had a spinner in the water, near what looked like a canoe launch. There wasn't much current, and I couldn't see any weeds. I was pretty sure pike liked to hang out outside of current and in or around thick weeds. Wasn't sure how I was going to find them if I couldn't find those things!

Doing my best impression of a river angler, I tried to present my bait in a variety of ways, trying to hit where I thought a river snake might be waiting to ambush some unsuspecting bluegill. I worked my way down the shore, hiking through the woods trying to get back to river access. I had my trusty LL Bean boots, but wasn't prepared to wet-wade in the muddy mucky water.

I found a place that had obviously been fished before- people had put sticks in the ground in such a way they would be perfect to hold rods in place. But that wasn't what gave it away. The entire roll of monofilament line, THICK monofilament line (seemed thicker than 20# test) had presumably been dumped, and was wrapped in a mess all around the foliage near the water. I couldn't pick up every stray soda can or beer bottle, or every McDonald's cup; I wouldn't have been able to carry it all to a trash can (which I hadn't even seen). But the least I could do is prevent some poor bird from getting tangled in this and dying. I'd seen the results of littered mono before, and if there's anything I can do to prevent that from happening, I'll do it.

a big mushroom

Using my clippers, it took about 5 minutes to rid the bushes of the ridiculous length of line that had become intertwined, like some kind of plastic vine. I ended up pulling off a lot of leaves too, but at least the line was gone. I shoved the huge armful of mono and leaves into my backpack, hoping I'd see a trash can somewhere.

I continued to fish, but I'll cut to the chase. I didn't catch any pike. At one point I thought I might have had a hit, but it was small and was not repeated on the next few casts. In another spot, there was a huge splash and out of the corner of my eye I saw the fish. It did NOT look yellow (i.e. carp) but I have no idea what it was. Of course my mind told me it was definitely a pike, but I had no idea if pike ever jump.

Saw some scary looking animal tracks, along with some I recognized as deer, squirrel, and maybe possum or racoon. The scary ones were really big, and reminded me of Walter's paws, but much much bigger. I looked for accompanying human tracks, like the owner of a big dog, but there were none. I gingerly scanned the forest, hoping I wouldn't lock eyes with a coyote, cougar, or wolf. I didn't know if there were any of those animals in the area, but these tracks belonged to something.

Probably just a random dog, I told myself, as I entered the forest again to find another route to water.

big tracks

I did a lot of hiking, and for what it's worth it was beautiful and enjoyable. The few squirrels I saw were clearly fattening up for the winter, and I saw some other cool things. An awesome looking mushroom, a tree that looked half cut down.. but by an axe? or teeth? I don't know.

At a certain point my belly was grumbling, I was annoyed at my lack of fish, so I headed back to my car. Then I remembered there was a bridge over the river. I couldn't leave without casting there a few times, so I did. I climbed down the loose rocks until I was at the water, then casted.

Not getting anything, I figured there might be some panfish around. I was pretty sure this kind of structure was called rip-rap, and the internet says there are often panfish around rip-rap.

Sure enough, there was!

After catching this guy- on a tiny jig and grub - the lightening convinced me to head home. At least I wasn't skunked.

pumpkinseed... or is it bluegill? either way it's a fish

On the lake with the family

Katie got a great shot of the clouds

 Coming fresh off a morning fishing trip fishless, I was determined to catch some fish.

After getting back to the parents' house, grabbing some subway, packing up the minivan, and driving a half hour east, we were at Lake Nepessing near Lapeer, Michigan - the probable location of our fishing redemption! This was our third annual family fishing outing; we rented a pontoon boat, took it out on the lake, and snacked and talked and drank and fished. Not exactly in that order.

I had been studying depth maps of the lake, and even uploaded a .kmz (google earth) file to my home server, so I could load waypoints on my iphone. (In the "maps" app, if you enter a URL in the search bar, you can load any .kmz or .kml file that's out there on the internet- or your own server. You won't get image overlays, but you will be able to see all of your markers.) There was a hump/sunken island right in the middle of the lake; on the east side, the depth went from 5' to 25' in about 10', and seemed like an ideal place to fish. I'd read reports of nice pike and bass being caught there.

We had several things working against us as we tried to position the boat in the sweet spot. First of all, pontoon boats are not easy to maneuver. Second, the lake was choppy, being stirred up by a relentless wind. Our big boat didn't stand a chance against the onslaught, and our tiny anchor just dragged along the muddy bottom.

After a few tries trying to get into position, we just decided to fish. We put the boat west of the hump, hoping that the wind would push us back over the hump, and we might have a chance of some fish. We dropped anchor, and although it didn't seem to stop our movement, it did slow us down a bit. It was about 3pm, so hopefully the fishing would get better as we approached sunset.

Walter is a pretty good ship's captain, for a dog

It was a great time, it's always nice to get outside and do some family stuff. I helped Katie (the sister) set up a dropshot rig with a nightcrawler, then decided to add a bobber. She just got her first fishing license, and this was her first time putting worms on the hook by herself. After quite a bit of convincing, she even cut crawlers in half so she wasn't using whole worms. Good work Katie.

We fished, we ate deviled eggs, tortilla chips, blueberries, subs; and I proceeded to empty a variety of IPA bottles. Good stuff, IPA's. The grocery store didn't have any Bell's Two-hearted IPA (you know, the label with a trout on it) so I got Huma-hopalicious, which I first enjoyed at our rehearsal dinner almost a year ago. (Whoa, almost a year ago!!) Fishing, and beer, two things I love. Oh yeah, and there was family too. :-)

We drifted around the lake, without much control over our location. The wind was relentless. Every so often, we'd get a tap or two, but nothing strong and no hookups. After an hour or two, I was frustrated. I remembered reading a post referring to Lake Nepessing as "Lake Not-a-thing." I thought about how skunk-tastic Busse Lake usually is, but my persistence has often paid off with big fish.

Eventually we repositioned ourself to be just upwind (I think that's the term) of the weedlines. The wind slowly pushed us back into open water, but finally we were able to land some fish!

First fish of the afternoon! That's Katie in the background

Small, and not especially feisty, but hey- at least we beat the skunk. Caught a few more little guys, but at this point honestly I didn't mind. As much as I claim to love fishing, I actually love catching, and if I don't have a choice I'd rather catch dinks than not catch monsters. Claire landed a veritable monster (it was tiny.. at least it was pretty) but unfortunately Katie and my dad weren't having too much luck.

Another itty-bitty guy

We saw some other boats fishing on the west side of the lake at the weedlines, so we decided to move over there. As we were approaching, we saw a guy on the boat posing for a picture, holding a fish. It looked big. As we got closer, we realized it was really big.

"What did you catch?" I shouted. The guy turned towards me, and we saw the full length glory of what he was holding. It was very big. "27 inch pike" he shouted back.

I won't lie, even though writing a second-hand account like this always provides the opportunity to get away with it. I was devastated. Up until this point, I was happy catching dinky little fish, it was fun, and we were having a good time. I figured that was the best we could do for now, and since nobody else seemed to be catching fish I didn't feel too bad.

But 27 inches of michigan pike, now that's something to be jealous of.

It was on. I grabbed a different rod and rigged a white spinnerbait, something I've heard pike are very fond of. I began to cast feverishly; oh man I wanted to hook into something longer than 3". We were in a perfect position, right at the weedlines, so I cast parallel to the weeds just along the edge. When that didn't produce, I tried casting perpendicular, from shallow to deep water. Nothing.

I switched to a medium diving crank. Did the same thing, and nothing. No follows, taps; nothing.

I looked back at the boat with the master pike-catcher on board. I squinted, trying to see what he had tied to the end of the line. I saw something spinning, reflecting the setting sun. It seemed smaller than a safety-pin style spinner, maybe it was a crankbait? For whatever reason I didn't shout out again to ask him what he was using. I didn't want to seem desperate, even though I was.

I felt a little bad at this point, as I was determined to catch a monster, and had stopped eating and drinking and talking with my family, and gone into fish-finding mode. I scanned the surface, trying to find anything that would belie the location of fish. I squinted through my polarized sunglasses, trying to see any tiny flash under the water that could be a fish, any fish. Nothing.

Eventually, we continued drifting around the lake, trying different spots. I threw everything I could think of- cranks, spinners, wacky-rigged senkos, tubes, minnow-tipped jigs- and nothing. I knew I could have probably landed some more baby fish with some nightcrawlers, but that was of no interest to me at that point.

The sun set behind the trees, creating a beautiful painting of a sky, a really great backdrop to our fishing. I wasn't going to catch a monster today. It would have been nice to catch a nice fish, and it was frustrating to see someone else catch such a specimen, but it was still a great day on the water. When you get down to it, you can't really beat fishing on a boat, on a beautiful day, with family, tons of snacks, and many many delicious beers.

Holloway Reservoir, Michigan

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

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

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

5:30am, Holloway Reservoir

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dive-bombing fish-catching machine bird

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike and the first fish of the day

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

2nd - and last- fish of the day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kayak Fishin' the DPR

the s.s. goby slayer

Yesterday I studied a year's worth of windycityfishing.com posts about the desplaines, boned up on the behavior of pike, and set my alarm for early- I was going to hit the DPR and catch me some of those toothy buggers!

point me to some fish!

Woke up this morning, had my coffee, oatmeal, packed my gear, and loaded the s.s. goby slayer on the car. (That's what I call my kayak, since that is what I seem to be best at catching.) 

Made sure I had all my spinners and crankbaits, cause today I was fishing for PIKE! I'd never caught a pike, and I hoped this would be the day. The impression I got from the posts I'd been reading is that it wouldn't be too difficult to get on some pike, and I was super excited.

Wanted to stop a walgreens on the way to get some bug spray (I've heard the bugs are CRAZY on the river) but all three I drove by weren't open yet. Oh well, I had the little fan thing so it would probably be ok.

Got to Irving Park and Desplaines, where there was supposed to be a kayak launch. I saw a forest preserve entrance and a parking lot, so I figured that was it. I parked, and checked out the river. Lots of bugs, lots of rocks, lots of mud, and a pretty steep drop to the river. Well, I guess this is the kayak launch, let's do it!

Got the yak down to the shore, almost fell in about thirty times on account of the super sticky mud, but I was ready to launch. Pushed off, and I was on the water. I had this crazy idea I would start getting some bites- it was a little cloudy, there was a storm coming, the pressure was falling, it seemed like everything was good for fishing. Apparently, not the case.

where I should have launched

I paddled upstream, so once I was tired I could coast back with the current. Soon after I paddled under the Irving Park bridge, I saw what was clearly the actual kayak/canoe launch. Looked like a great place to launch, no steep incline, and much less chance of falling in! Awesome. Remember that for next time.

There was a ton of fishy-looking spots, lots of submerged timber, fallen trees, overhanging branches; lots of those pools and eddies I've heard so much about from river fishermen, the places that hold fish. Things were looking good to find some fish- the only problem with so much cover is figuring out which were the best places to hit.

There was also more trash and debris than I have ever seen on any body of water, even Busse! Seeing all the beautiful pictures of the river online, I was not prepared for the onslaught of waste that filled the tree branches and banks. Things you might expect, like plastic bags and some bottles, and other stuff like a condom in a branch that made me scratch my head. How!?!? 

Under the Lawrence bridge I saw some homeless dudes, and I have to say it really weirded me out... I wondered what they thought of this yuppie dude with many $'s worth of fishing gear hanging out in a kayak while they struggled to avoid the elements and feed themselves.. I could go home to my air conditioning and shower and fridge full of delicious food; they didn't have that option.

shouldn't there be some fish here?

Every so often I would stop at an especially fishy spot, tie a line to a branch or stump, and cast away. I mostly threw 1 oz. (I think) white spinners, and some crankbaits. Amazingly, in the course of the entire 3 1/2 hour trip, I only lost 2 lures! It's a lot easier to get your lures back when you can paddle out to them and unhook them. 

After a while I needed to get to the shore to take care of some business... As soon as I stepped out of the kayak, my foot went straight down and the mud came up to my knee! When I pulled my foot back up, my croc was gone. I reached my arm deep into the mud, and two minutes later pulled up my shoe. Awesome!

hangups aren't so bad
when you can paddle to them

No bites, no nibbles, many hangups, but so far no lost lures. I kept paddling upstream, every spot looking fishier than the last. After a few spots with no bites, I started to get discouraged. What the heck! There are supposed to be fish here! I saw a lone carp looking for a snack in some shallow water. In one particularly promising spot, where the current was mostly blocked by logs and branches, I thought there must be fish here.

I was right! I found a bunch of tiny minnows, and there were a few slightly larger fish chasing them and eating them! I'd never seen this before, and it was pretty cool. This spot had tons of cover, a change from shallow to deep, a change in current, lots of forage in the form of baitfish and crawfish I saw along the bottom; how could there NOT be some pike or bass nearby?

I hung out there for about a half hour, and tired a few different lures. I even busted out my magic green tube jig, hoping for at least some bites. Even without bites, it was cool to be on the river in the s.s. goby- every five minutes or so a plane would fly overhead.

this one flew right over me

I started to hear some thunder... My lovely wife texted me to suggest I'd better get a move on, the storm was coming. Crap! I looked at the radar and it wasn't looking good.

yikes!

I turned the boat around, and headed back down the river. The sharp eruptions of thunder were getting closer together, and it was freaking me out! I started to see lightning.. I wondered if my paddle was made of metal...

Little drops of rain started pinging the water, and I intensified my paddling. I had been casually casting my white spinnerbait as the current pushed me down the river, but now I stowed my rods and paddled in earnest. My arms started to burn- I'm not used to this much physical activity! The rain started to fall harder, and the breaks between thunder and lightning got shorter. Oh jeez!

After what seemed like a very long time of what seemed like paddling very fast, I made it to the kayak launch. (Turns out I was only going 4 mph, but that was much faster than I had been paddling.) About that time the rain started to fall like crazy, and I decided to land there, and bring my car around. Hopefully nobody would steal the s.s. goby slayer.

Walked quickly to the car, made it back to the launch, and loaded everything up in record time. Almost as soon as I got in the car, the sky opened up! Good timing. Thanks wife! I was soaked, my arms were burning, my legs were covered in mud, and I didn't catch so much as a bluegill... I was pretty frustrated I didn't even get a hit from any of my pike or bass friends... but I couldn't wait to get back on the water and go fishin'!

No fish here? Really?

New water, no fish

This morning I got up slightly early so I could check out a body of water near my house I haven't been to yet. It happens to be near the metra station, so it's almost on the way... Almost!

Rode there on the bike (Claire's bike), pulled my 5 piece collapsable fishing rod and reel combo out of my backpack, and got a white spinner in the water. I was probably too late for the early bite, and I probably should have varied up my lures... But I only fished for about an hour, so I stuck with my trusty white spinnerbait.

bike fishing!

I saw lots what I think were carp very near the surface; they almost looked like a pack of sharks the way their dorsal fins were breaking the surface. I've never seen carp that active; I don't know much about carp, but most of the time they seem pretty chill. Then again, who knows if it was even a bunch of carp... I'm notoriously bad at fish identification! A couple of months ago I ran into some jumping carp, and id'ed them as walleye.

I moved around quite a bit, doing what I think is called "fan casting"- systematically casting in such a way you cover a lot of water in a short time. I didn't really think I was going to catch any fish, but I'd rather be fishing than not fishing.

Apparently there are a ton of birds at this body of water, and I saw the biggest heron I've ever seen! I took a bunch of pictures, but only one of them turned out, and you can't really tell how big it is... But I would estimate a wingspan of 5'. (Keep in mind my length estimations are also completely bogus. No sense of what a 12" actually is... )

big heron

I don't feel too bad not catching anything there this morning, as I haven't studied the contour maps too much, and didn't really hit that many spots.... And only used one lure! I know there are some 15' holes within 30' of shore, combined with a very quick drop from the shallow water- I will be locating those next time. 

It's a very pretty body of water, filled to the brim with a variety of wildlife. That's one of my favorite things about fishing: even if you don't get a single bite, there's always plenty of cool stuff to see.

Skunked at Busse!

Woke up extra early this morning to get some fishing in before work. Had a great time in Cleveland, and really enjoyed fishing Lake Erie, but I wanted to fish my "home lake" and get some bass!

Got to Busse a little before 6am, and parked in the line of cars that always forms to get in in the morning. In theory all Cook county forest preserves open at sunrise, but it seems to be one dude who has to go open all the gates, so in practice you're lucky to get in by 6:15am any day.

Seriously Pretty

Went right to my favorite spot, which has produced many large bass this year.. I was really excited to get into some serious fish this morning! It was a seriously pretty morning, steam was rising from the water, herons were flying all over the place, and I think I woke up a duck moving to my spot. It didn't seem to care, and just flopped into the water and went back to sleep.

I immediately proceeded to lose all 3 lures I had so carefully tied on my 3 rods around 5:30am this morning. Tube jig? PING! White spinner? PING! Senko? PING!

Ok, fine, I know there are lots of sticks and logs down there, it's a veritable lure graveyard.. But that's where the fish usually are.

Some plants by my spot

I took a breath and looked around, getting my composure and tying on some new lures. It really was a great morning, just cold enough to need a sweatshirt. Lots of great photo ops, so I pulled out my phone and grabbed some.

Lures tied on, I was ready for round two. Over the course of the next hour, I lost 2-3 more lures on branches and rocks, and didn't get a single bite. I worked my way along the shoreline, as patiently as I could, and nothing. I saw some tiny minnows real shallow, and then some bluegill... A father and son were pretty regularly catching sub-legal bluegill on another side of the lake, but other than that nobody I saw was catching fish.

I wondered if the storm last night shut down the bite. I'm still new to this fishing thing, but everything the internet tells me is fish don't like thunder, and it can freak them out for a day or two after.

I kept working the shoreline, trying to find where all my big bass friends were hiding. I didn't want to hurt them, just pick them up, say hello, and send them on their way! I thought my new senkos would do the trick (I tried both texas rig and wacky worm style) but big fat NOTHING. At one point I cast the senko out on my new 5-piece collapsable rod, and a bird's nest like none I'd ever seen engulfed my rod and my senko went flying into the air, free from it's monofilament leash.

Some deer

It plopped on the surface, sank a little... and then WHAM something surfaced to eat it.

Really!!??

I whipped out another rod and cast to where my senko met it's end, but to no avail.. I wasn't going to be catching any fish this morning. I hoped whatever got my senko enjoyed it (and could digest it or spit it out), and would be there to be caught another day.