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.)

The Door

I spent the weekend on the hallowed grounds of fly fishing for carp ...and by hallowed I mean "Dave Whitlock" hallowed.
I've been meaning to go up and fish this water for so may years I've lost count...over 10.  I finally decided it was time.  I shot out some invitations and despite a few "sorry, I can't make its" I got a "yep" from McSteel.

I had the 8's and 9's packed along with a 2 man tent and entirely too many flies.  The plan was for McSteel to meet me on Saturday afternoon after I had already bolted north and spent a few hours scouting the area from the deck of Jon Johnson.   (It will perhaps be our last mission together, Mr. Johnson and I,  but more on that later.)

I spent four hours on the road towing the boat and at hour 3, I started feeling like I was from Illinois.
The spot I'd marked to launch was a few lefts and rights off the beaten path, but when I got to the boat ramp (?) I was happy to find it completely void of any cars or trailers.  A quick inspection of the facility and I understood why.  The steep, buckled ramp emptied into a shin deep expanse of clear water over light sand.  A terrible place to be if you are trailering anything more than a 17' canoe, or a 16' jon boat.

The sun was high and the wind was light as I pushed off and climbed up on my cooler to pole around the bay.  About 30 minutes in, as I was drifting with an increasing south wind, I saw a fish moving toward me and I rattled off 3 shots before it headed east and out of sight and range.   I spent the next 90 minutes alternating between rowing, poling and drifting.  I was still amped about the color and clarity of the water and the bright sandy bottom that I almost didn't care that I wasn't spotting fish.
I figured when I found them, I'd see them.

McSteel jumped aboard at about 2:30 in the afternoon and we shoved off to put double the eyes on the flats.  He spotted one fish as we were rowing upwind in 4' of water but we never got a cast off.  We spent the afternoon, cursing clouds, peering through polarized glasses and scratching our heads.
We couldn't find fish.

At the bar for dinner that night we sat with fingers clutching cold local brews trying to decide the game plan for the next day.   We figured if the wind was going to blow from the south, we'd fish a bay with a north facing mouth.  Luckily there was one located very close to where we were camped.  After a quick nightcap on the camp chairs back at the campground, McSteel climbed into his solo and I decided I'd try sleeping in the back of my Honda Pilot (which, if you have one, I'd now happily recommend).

The alarm was set for 6:30 but I didn't need it.  I was refreshed and ready for day two of our carping adventures.  The good news was that the morning wind wasn't too bad, and the cloud cover was probably less than the "mostly cloudy" report we'd expected.  The bay provide decent visibility but the flats were far less expansive than the bay from the day before.  In a way, we were hoping that this might work in our favor i.e. shallow water with access to deep water nearby.  After a short amount of prospecting McSteel found a decent smallie in 6' of water around some boulders.  It was acting territorial and after fighting the breeze to stay put, we dropped the anchor and McSteel succeeded in tempting this one to eat.  It should surprise no one that knows him that the boy can spot Smallmouth.
It was my turn next, and I too spotted a fish.  The trouble was, I couldn't get it to stay put long enough to taunt it.  I ended up firing a few casts at the quickly departing ass-end of the fish and then it was game over.

Between the increasing wind and cloud cover we were forced to depart from the smallie-zone and headed across the bay to a calmer section.  We never found any carp, but we did find some very big drum.  I'd guess the weight at 6-8 pounds.  Again the wind and light made it tough, but we did get a few shots at fish, including a couple of times when we were pretty sure the drum moved closer to the fly and with mouths wired shut...simply took a closer look.   This critter, the drum, has me intrigued.

The Big Carp Trip ended without much in the way of fishing for carp...a thought that I find depressing as a guy who'd like to hang a few more on my fly rod, but quite nice as a proponent of native fisheries.

It was probably the first of at least a few more trips to this beautiful water to fish, but it was the final mission for me with my trusty boat Jon Johnson.  My new boat is waiting for its new trailer to be built and Jon is heading north to spend some time with TP, a guy who I think will appreciate the understated elegance of her khaki hull, non slip casting deck and dirt-bag mojo.

Winding down

My friend JP drove by the house today and I suggested that he meet me out at the lake for some evening fishing...which he did.  EB was originally slotted for some alternate activities but he had a change of plans and ended up making it out as well.

A well worn old man looked at me quizically or drunkly (or both) when I asked for his blessing in allowing us to wade slowly and quietly through the edge of the water he was spin-fishing in order to get to our preferred shoreline for the evening fish.  I'm not sure what he said in reply, but he didn't seem to mind and it occured to me that if he disagreed with our intentions he was in no shape to protect his real estate from any one of us...never mind the three of us together.  Don't get me wrong, we didn't bully him...I just assumed that what he was slurring was some form of "Yes".

The fishing was great.  Soft breeze, midges in flight, 70ish degrees and a bright waxing crescent moon bouncing light off the rippled surface of the lake.

The catching was not so great.  EB wrangled a walleye early on and few white bass were hooked, landed and released.  My fly was also intercepted by a freshwater drum that croaked when I was working to free the hook from his mouth.  I snapped a quick pic and noticed only after downloading the image from my camera that in exchange for yanking him out of the water...he crapped on my hand.

At 10:30 with very little in the way of fish sign for the previous 30 minutes I decided to call it a night.  EB and JP must have had the same vibe because they followed me out and after shining the shallows from the bank to see if we had missed any fishing opportunities in close, the three of us headed back to our rigs and stowed our gear.

After the shared experience of a relatively uneventful fishing outing, we stood around kicking gravel and burned through another hour (in the dark) in the kind of unplanned BS session that occasionally takes root and flowers when a "Plan A" is less than what you had hoped.   We covered some ground in the conversation but eventually the moment happens when you've made enough casts and shared enough stories and laughed at enough jokes and bitched at enough of the worlds stupidity... and you head home to bed.  It's called winding down,

and it's the best way to end a day.

EB prepping a walleye for release

Drum