How Far Do You Go?

In order to get to some of our favorite fishing holes we have undoubtedly walked gingerly through poison ivy, scraped through briars, or stomped through stinging nettles.  We have had to suffer blisters on our feet from wading in the wrong shoes.  We have swatted at teems of mosquitoes and deer flies.  Worst of all, we have had to deal with wrath of our wives or mothers as to why we were coming home late... again.  We suffer, but manage, through many adversities all in pursuit of fish.

The aforementioned conditions are something I have become accustom to.  I have learned to identify potential hazards while out fishing and I try my best to avoid them to prevent any unnecessary pain or discomfort.  This is achieved fairly easily since Pennsylvania is not even close to being on the "Things that want to kill you" list.

So I wandered up my local stream, not worrying about being mauled by a puma or infested with an exotic parasite in search of dumb fish that like to eat small plastic fish (I call them dumb because I have yet to fool a smart fish).  I found a fish willing to eat my offering on the edge of a brush pile which then promptly turned and dove back under the tangle of tree limbs and vines.  I figured it would pop itself off the hook and I would have to drag out a limb to retrieve my bait.  After half a minute of yanking and the fish still fighting, I came up with a second solution.  I could go in after the fish.  I don't recall thinking much on this, so I took my shirt off, dumped out my pockets, and I waded in up to my stomach.  I tugged some more with out any luck, held my breath, and went noodling for an already hooked, thirteen inch largemouth.  I touched the fish, found the hook and did some blind untangling of line.  The fish was free of the limbs and after two more seconds, my hook.

Truly wet wading

Afterwards, I thought I may have gone a little further than most people would have to catch a fish.  Especially after seeing the dead goose floating twenty feet upstream.

How far have you gone, or are willing to go, to catch or land a fish?

Here fishy, fishy, fishy.

Where have I been?  I have only had one real post since June.  A snap of the fingers and the months have flown by and we are almost at August.  My fishing hasn't been much since my last post, my fly fishing less than that, and my fly tying non-existent.  I have worked a little on the list.  This included a muskie following my lure and catching a few minnows in search of a wild trout.  Most of my fishing I have done has been at the local stream and pond.  There was an outing to the shore for some flounder- which I did catch- but the photos have eluded me.  All I've got is a picture of this guy.

Oyster toadfish AKA winner of the squishiest fish contest

There was also some time spent on the James River which only brought a few small smallmouth and fall fish to hand.  The water there was some of the clearest I have ever fished which affected my game I think.  I had many follows but most fish would turn away upon closer inspection.  Even my go to flies and lures were being shut down.  Jackie managed just as many fish as me after ignoring most of my advice (smart girl).  I am proud of her as she picked her lures, caught her fish and unhooked them all on her own.  There's still hope for her.

James River Smally

Toothache

The rest of the shots are pictures from some top water action today.  Most fish came on buzzbaits with a couple hitting a fluke.  It has been a long time since I have actively pursued Perkiomen Creek smallies.  My old fishing holes seem to have filled in and new ones opened in the last two years.  Next time I will be taking my fly rod for that 15+ incher that got away.  The largemouth came from Pickmeup Pond.  It seems as though the average size has bumped up two inches since April.  The trick was keeping the fish out of the weed mats on the bottom and the duckweed soup on top.  All fish didn't hesitate to slam a buzzbait through the slop.

Scoliosis

Maybe my next post will be of the dragon fly pattern I have bouncing around in my head... but probably not.

The Bowfin

Bad case of swamp bass

The bowfin, Amia clava, is a prehistoric fish, over 150 million years old, native to North American waters eastward from Ontario, Canada and southward to Texas.  The bowfin prefers swampy habitats and even waters that are too low in oxygen for most fish to live in, the bowfin can thrive in due to their ability to use their swim bladder to breath oxygen from the surface air.  Varying on region, the bowfin is called many names.  Dogfish, grindle, lawyer, mudfish and swamp bass are among some of the names it is commonly called.

The bowfin mates in early spring at a nest created by the male.  Once the eggs have hatched the male guards the fry for several weeks until the young are old enough to fend for themselves.  During this period, the male becomes a vibrant lime green to attract the female.

Spawning male bowfin

An easy way to distinguish a mature male bowfin from a female is to look for a spot on the dorsal half of their tail.

Although many anglers view the bowfin as a nuisance species, they can obtain a size over three feet long, will often hit live bait or lures and will put up a tough fight to rival any gamefish.  Some anglers incorrectly perceive the bowfin as a threat to a fishery and kill any bowfin they catch.  This is not the case and all bowfin that aren't being kept for consumption should be returned to the water immediately.  Live minnows and crayfish are most often used for bait when targeting bowfin as are any lure that resembles a crayfish.  

I Don't Need Kayak Glue

I'd happily be stuck in my kayak with out it.

Black Lake, NY 2012: Part Three

The largest fish of our trip was landed by my sister.  When I first got a glimpse of the fish in the water I knew it was a monster and started contemplating if I would need a gaff rather than a net.  I positioned myself and the net in front of my sister and told her to not worry about slapping me upside the head with the rod.  The fish would get within netting distance and then take line off of the mismatched rod and reel combo.  The rod was an old, yellow, fiberglass rod from the 1960s and the reel something you would find on a saltwater charter boat.  One of my father's concoctions.  A trait I have somewhat inherited from him.  Push your equipment as far as it will go, and when it gives up, keep it together with duct tape and zip ties.  Although this combination was not the most effective for the job we employed of it; it held up.  After three or so runs we finally guided the bowfin into the net and hauled my sister's largest fish onto land.  The beast weighed in at a respectable 8 pounds and was 27 inches long.  Congratulations Katie!  I hope you beat this record soon.

In awe.

Going back home

The next day we checked the forecast and saw we had heavy rains and wind up to 40 mph on our way.  With that news, we decided to cut the trip short a day and headed home after lunch, pushing the envelope as long as we could.  We tied the kayaks to the roof as the first rain drops were pulled to Earth.  Serenaded by the kayak straps whistling in the wind, we drove back up threw the cow pasture and down the roads we rode on so many times in our youth, unsure of when we would get to take this trip again.  

Black Lake, NY 2012: Part 2

Once we arrived on the island we unpacked and then wasted no time getting to the fishing.  I made the decision to go at this trip without worms or minnows which have always been staples on our past trips to the lake.  We both still wanted to have bait under the bobbers while we fished with lures so our first step was to catch bait.  We tried our normal techniques until I decided the fly rod would be a (slightly) more efficient method.  There were plenty of perch and bluegills caught for bait but the trick was only catching the small ones.  I think this is the only time in my life were I wanted to catch as small of a fish as possible.

Too big for bait...

That's better!  This fish was also Katie's first fish on the fly rod!

After bait was caught we threw lots of lures off the rocks of the island with no success.  The bobbers started to go down pretty regularly however and netted us a good amount of fish over the next three days.  As always with me, there were plenty of fish missed but eventually we started catching more than we were missing.

                            

                                        Full of bull

          

I love those bowfin.  If they hit lures or flies more readily I think I would have a different favorite fish.  They have a distinct prehistoric look to them and are made of only teeth and muscle.  I am planning to do a separate post about them later on for those who may have never caught or seen one before.

Even though we both tried, I was the only one who managed to catch any fish on lures.  The only lure that seemed to be working was a yellow and red Cabelas spoon.  You can see that spoon in the picture with the perch.  It seemed that the pike were moving out of the 4-8 feet deep bay in search of slightly deeper water which meant we needed to try and find them from our kayaks.  Unfortunately, the wind had other plans then we did and kayak fishing was pretty difficult. 

  

I did try a good amount of time to catch a pike on the fly rod and knock off another item from the challenge list.  But, I failed.  The only fish I managed while trying to obtain that goal was a hefty 17 inch bass.  I caught it on one of my deer hair Dahlberg divers with a rabbit strip tail.  Each one of those flies takes an hour for me to tie so I was glad it landed at least one fish.  I did have a few more hits on it and had a hard time straying to a different pattern after I landed this fish on the Dahlberg.

No fish of real size were cau- 

What's that? I forgot about one?  Oh, I guess that fish will have to wait till the next post.

Black Lake, NY 2012: Part 1

I'm home, showered and fed after a great trip with my sister.  Although the trip was cut a day short due to impending inclement weather and only a few handfuls of fish were caught, we both still had a blast.  After a two and a half hour drive, I stopped for the night in Binghamton to pick up my sister.  We loaded up the Yaris with both kayaks and the gear we would need for the next few days.

The next morning we awoke early and drove to the lake reminiscing as my sister wonderfully captured on her blog, here.

Once we arrived, we loaded up our kayaks and paddled to the island where we'd spend the next three days fishing, kayaking, and enjoying each other's company.