Late Summer Whities

10:00 PM
I was standing near the shore with my camera on a tripod watching the storm roll in, hoping to catch some lightning photos.  The water level was up and the wind was starting to blow.  The first time I heard it I thought a walnut or some tree fruit had broken off and hit the water.  The second and third splash made me think someone was throwing rocks.  It took awhile before my brain switched from photo mode to fishing mode.  I was home and back with a 6 weight in about 12 minutes.  The white bass were clobbering baitfish.
Two nights later I revisited the spot and helped a local spin fisherman fill his bucket.
My conservative estimate was 40 fish caught on what is now a very beat-up streamer. 

I put the call out to the boys and the next night we arrived ready to catch.

Between the 4 of us, JH got the only fish.

Shoulda been here yesterday.

Wally

We did what we always do, my brother-in-law and I.  One guy carries the canoe, the other guy grabs the two rods, a pack of flies, tippet, floatant, bug sauce with Deet and the paddles.  We wear our life jackets and one of us pockets 6' of rope that we hope to use as a stringer.  The drive is paved, then gravel, then bush.  The portage is short...maybe 300 yards. 

The lake is empty. 
As always.

We load the canoe, and shove off and see something out of place.  Maybe we were too quick to assume we were alone.  Its white and moving.  Could be a boat.  Then there are two.

It's early, the hex hatch won't start for at least an hour so we decide to paddle closer to solve the riddle.

It's not long before we know that they are birds, I'm thinking white pelicans because my Mom just told me she saw a couple recently (very odd for this part of the world but still possible), so that's what a blurt out.

The canoe inches closer and I zoom in with my camera...and still, I think pelican.

But no. 

They are a pair of Trumpeter Swans.  When they get nervous from our approach they start up and after a loud, long, thunderous trip down their watery runway, take flight and circle around to land on the opposite end of the lake.

Riddle solved, we put rods together and commit to the fishing.

Years ago I surmised that the hex mayflies that I see getting eaten on the surface could only be a portion of the population sustaining the walleyes.  The fish had to be eating nymphs too. 

Right?

I tied all manner of hex nymphs, copying versions from magazines and fly bins to creating my own.
In the past 5 years or so I've taken to raiding my bonefish fly box for 2" long patterns in tanish, creamish colors....bead chain eyes, dumbell eyes, some with flash, some without. 

One night trout fishing the hex hatch, I didn't get a single fish on a dry but I landed 5 or 6 on a bonefish fly.  I decided right then that I needn't reinvent the wheel.

As the sun started to drop lower I tied one of these bonefish/hex nymphs on my line and sent one via airmail to the bow of the canoe for my brother-in-law to use.  He picked up a couple of small perch on his.  I cast and boated a few of my own perch and one of us landed a northern pike but I can't remember who.

My lapse in memory on this pike is probably equal parts old age and equal parts what happened next.

With the sun dropping below the horizon but still a solid 20 minutes before we expected to see flies on the surface, I cast and began another slow strip retrieve.  I was pulling the fly in short 3-6" strips trying to envision the swimming speed of a hex nymph.  With only 15' of flyline out of the tip-top guide the fly stopped and the rod bent, the water swirled in that incredible upwelling that occurs when a fish turns near the surface.

I was pretty sure it wasn't a perch.  When its head just cleared the water 20' out, I did that instant computation where you figure body of water, species available, fly thrown, weight on the line and visual cues.

I said, "It's a decent Northern!" My brother-in-law said, "No.  It's a walleye."

My Dad started me walleye fishing when I was 5 or 6.  Walleyes are 3/4 of a pound to 2 pounds.  Maybe 3.  I'm 44 now and I've caught some walleyes.

The fish bulldogged and turned.  It bore down as deep as it could go, which, in this section of the lake, was 3 feet.  It came up again and I saw that I had been in error and that my brother-in-law had correctly identified the species. 

But it was big.

And we had no net.

I asked my brother-in-law if he could grab it and I worked the fish toward him as he put his fly rod down and got into the heron position...or at least as heronlike as one can get sitting in the bow of the canoe.  

It took three attempts before the fish's tail cleared the gunwale. 

I said, "I'm thinking about eating that fish."
He said, "You have to, I gave it the death grip to get it in the boat."

I tied it to the stringer and admired it.  The mosquitoes started their incessant buzzing and converged on us and I kept sneaking peeks over the gunwale at my fish on the string.  The hex hatch started and two more walleyes were added to the stringer but I can't recall who caught them. 

I do remember adding them to the stringer because I had tied the first fish on with such a fool-proof knot that took some creativity to add other fish to the rope.

When we got back home, we put a tape to it and it was 1/2 inch shy of 30.

The biggest walleye of my life, on a bonefish fly.

I probably would have a little more remorse about killing such a great fish except it was absolutely delicious.  My wife and two kids said so too....two nights in a row.  

Meow

JH has been hitting the white bass beat.  Sometimes with me, sometimes without.  It's been kind of a bust year as far as white bass go.  I heard recently that they go through population cycles.  Maybe that's our problem?

At any rate, we were out again tonight, hoping that we might meet head-on, the massive schools that we've seen in the past.

Instead of white bass, my first fish was a drum.  A drum eating a 3" deceiver a few inches below the surface.  Pretty Cool.

The second fish was a walleye.  Same fly, same drill.  Also pretty cool.

The 3rd fish walloped the fly so hard it kind of startled me.  When it stayed on the bottom and pulled line through my fingers, I started to mumble.  Once on the reel it pulled line back out and bent my 8 weight severely...that's when I started to curse. 

I thought maybe a decent pike or musky clobbered the fly and that I had hooked it somewhere that the sharp teeth had not yet made contact with my 15 lb tippet.  I tried to play it gingerly at first, but the scrappy nature of this fish made me doubt my assumptions.  After what seemed like 10 minutes (which is a LONG time to be fighting a fish when you were planning on white bass) I got it in close enough and switched on my headlamp.  It stayed deep and swam circles around me. On one pass I lifted and saw the fish about 15" down. 

"A walleye?  No.  What IS this thing?"

The Channel Cat's head broke the surface.  I was a little stunned, pleased and confused all in the same moment.  By this time JH (at my request) had waded over to assist.  He offered to lift it out of the water for a quick measurement and a couple of photos.

Later that night, when I got home I held a tape up to the mark on my rod and figured it to be 26 1/2".

A quick internet search and I came up with a conversion chart showing that the fish was probably between 8 and 9 lbs.

I'm now trying to figure out where I can catch these on a more regular basis.

(Big thanks to JH for being the hand model and for the assistance in landing this one.)

Saturday May 28th 2016

May is almost over.  I've watched 44 Mays come to an end and it seems that this one might have been the swiftest expiration of them all.  It is a long weekend and a rare one as we stayed at home and didn't load up the car with too much stuff, drive too far and come home late with too little sleep.  Just a mellow weekend...and this Saturday was a good day to just watch, look and listen.  And cast a few flies.

When the sun started to drop low, RS, JH and I made the trip to the lakeshore and waded out.  I picked up a smallmouth on one of my initial casts and thought that maybe I was in for a long evening of catching.  RS was posted up 30 yards off my left shoulder and JH was posted up 30 yards off of his. 

It's nights like this I am glad I carry my camera because the two of them stood mockingly and pulled in white bass after white bass while I went blank.  I changed flies, waded left, shot a few neighborhood casts their way and yet...nothing.

I suppose that this could have gone on for some time except that a lightning storm started tracking our way and we unanimously voted not to die tonight.  The fishing was cut short but the light show and lack of rain kept me on my camera for another 45 minutes after their departure.

I'd guess that they were both a little disappointed that the fishing ended.  I, on the other hand, was happy for the reprieve.

Albino House Finch at my feeder

Daisy Fleabane by the river

Backwater largemouth bass running daycare

RS hooked up

RS trying not to rub it in...this was his 3rd or 4th.

Lightshow 1

Lightshow 2

And again, and again.

May 27th and May 28th.
Things are starting to warm up and the bass are starting to show.  JH, RS, JP and I have been keeping a fairly constant vigil.  The fish are starting to come in in larger schools and they are certainly feeding on top.  They seem to have a fair amount of disinterest in our standard offerings and changes to other patterns haven't been successful.  So far the steady and rythmic casting at rise forms has coughed up 1/2 dozen or so fish to the fortunate.  I'm a little intrigued at why some years they smack the fly like they are in the hot lunch line and this year they are being picky.  More to learn I guess.  Still, it's pretty laid back and mellow fishing, comfortable temps and easy wading.  Close to home.  Easy.

Try, try again.

It's only been a day since the last foray out into the blackness for the shallow water White Bass bite but it already feels like things are starting to warm up.  The Whities aren't yet in in the masses that signal "the show" a few fish here, which shouldn't be read as a complaint.  The nights are comfortably cool and the mosquitoes have yet to show...plus there is always non-target species.

Morone chrysops

It feels like it could be starting any day now.  The water is just a little too cool but the rest of the signs are there.  Tonight we came and gave it a shot. 

Establishing a Baseline

The local white bass bite is getting close enough that a few of us, RS, MK and JH, decide to spend the evening on the water.  Daytime temps were in the mid to high 50's and the water was in the early 60's. 

The telltale midge hatch never transpired but flies were flung all the same.

JH ranged far and wide covering a lot of water while I stood in one spot and hoped that luck or chance beat exploration.

In the end exploration won in the form of a walleye that JH said was about the "size of a marker".

These forays are always valuable, as much for what does happen as what does not.

It was too early for the smash and grab white bass bit, we established that baseline.

It was also too early to fish with nothing but boxer shorts inside your waders.

MK established that baseline too.

JH and RS heading to the "other side"

JH, sundown prowl

RS changing it up. Low light, zoom and shivers make for interesting photography

Happy 3rd of July!

We rolled into the in-laws this afternoon.  I was running though the Independence Day weekend itinerary with my brother-in-law and it was decided that tonight would be the only shot at hex'n for walleyes.  Normally we miss dinner and hit the lake early, sunburn in the heat of evening sunset and wait for the mosquitoes to drop in.

Tonight, dinner was on the table at 7:30.  We dined on walleye (what else??) potatoes and salad.

By 8:00 we were on the road and we were sliding the canoe into the lake at 8:35.

Perfectly still, calm, perfect.

I've found that certain flies tied with bead-chain eyes and intended for Bahamian bonefish work as a passable Hexagenia emerger imitation in Northern Minnesota.

A passable 3/4 pound fish agreed with me and swallowed my fly shortly after the sun dropped below the horizon.

Though I have done this many times before, the wait for the hatch is always a little nerve-wracking.  It always happens a little later than I remember and there are times when it doesn't happen at all.  Tonight, as if on cue, the sky darkened as the thrum of mosquitoes signaled the end of the comfort and the start of the show.

The first hex popped and stalled on the surface.  The second came a few minutes after.  Then it became a forgone conclusion as big bugs popped and struggled to unfold their wings and take flight.

There is a moment in fishing a hatch, especially an after dark hatch like the hex, when you have to commit to the dry fly.  After the second small splashy rise in the failing light, I snapped on my headlamp and replaced the bonefish fly with a spentwing spinner, or as I was a hoping the fish would consider it, a crippled emerger.

We spent the next 45 minutes getting small rises to our offerings but didn't hear any big gulpers.  We one hand paddled the canoe toward the most likely splashes but the eaters didn't seem to be around.  We opted for a change of location which is always the last ditch effort while fishing a hatch that might last an hour.

We finally heard a good feeder to the southeast and paddled toward it...it came up once, then twice.  In what is probably best described as location through sonar, we triangulated its position until the moon betrayed the rise form.  I dropped the spinner close and waited 3 beats before the next gulp took my fly down with it.  I set and felt the throb and deep bend of a decent fish...

...but just for an instant, before the line went slack.

The 476th mosquito bit my unexposed skin, above my buff and below my hat.

I cursed for a couple of good reasons.

Vertigo OR The Art of Poling After Dark

KZ was kind enough to make the 45 minute drive to my hood for a guaranteed night of fishing for I don't know what.  The largemouth were in spawn funk and the big gills never showed.  We had about 10 minutes of solid dryfly carping and then we rolled into the darkness.

Standing on a poling platform in a skinny Mod V jon after the light is gone with the first hatch of mosquitoes buzzing and dive bombing flesh is a new thing for me.  Thankfully I never fell off as that would have been (A.) humiliating and (B.) mostly painful.

KZ teased up a smallish pike which was nice because it gave us a name for whatever the hell it was we were doing.  After he took the pliers to force the hook out of the skull of that feisty (but smallish) pike...it dawned on us that we were night fishing for pike.

We did this until the mosquito blood drain caused enough dizziness in my head that I was fearful I might lose balance and fall of my perch.

Luckily, KZ approved of my decision to return to the launch and get gone....

Mama mallard and her lil'uns

KZ on the pole.  Quick study.

Nice evening on the water

Carp...taunting us.

KZ in the nose gunners position

Airing it out

Evidence of a hatch 1

Evidence of a hatch II

Posse

With last night's success, it was a foregone conclusion I'd be out again tonight.  It was an easy sell too..."hand cramp" from so many fish isn't a bad pitch.

JH, RS, JP and later, Mr. T all waded out and started firing streamers into the evening water.

JH hooked up first and then RS.  JP followed shortly before JH and RS each hoked their second.
The light was still bright and I couldn't help but notice that the bite was early and also that I was the only chump who hadn't hooked up...

It turned out to be decent night, not blisteringly good , but everybody caught and released fish.

RS and JP took leave about the time that Mr T showed up in shorts and wet waded into the darkening water.  The three of us, JH, Mr. T and I fished to splashes in the darkness and the combination of short strikes and auditory confirmation of our quarry kept us out until almost 11:00 o'clock.

This was a special night.... not because the fishing was noteworthy, but because 5 guys rallied around a common interest and had a hell of a good time.

It was like white bass poker night.