Fishing

Although I'm fishing very little these days, I still maintain an interest in the activity. I've been out on the pond a couple of times this month and both times caught a few bluegills. On an evening trip, I took a picture of the sun setting before walking home.

Sunset following a short fishing trip

After noticing rising fish on some evening walks, I strolled down to the pond recently with a fly rod. Spent about twenty minutes casting a dry fly and caught a small bluegill. I haven't seen many trout caught since the stocking. Took a picture of the setting sun before walking home.

Opening day for fishing

After the state stocked the pond with trout, it was closed to fishing for the following week as is the normal custom. During the closure period, I informed four fishermen that what they were doing was illegal, and all of them were apologenic and claimed to be unaware they were wrong. It was nice to see many knowledgable and law-abiding fishermen out on Saturday when the pond reopened.

Millennials

 

 Yesterday afternoon while I was fishing the stream pictured above which is located in the Maryland suburbs, I came across a pool where I spotted a number of nice bass. Although I carefully got to a place where I was partially hidden, the fish were spooky and I caught only a couple of bluegills. While I was deciding whether to change positions or to change flies, a woman came walking along the trail on the other side of the stream with her dog. She stopped at the pool and threw a ball into the middle of the stream, and the dog went bounding in to retrieve it. Of course all the fish scattered for cover.

Rightly or wrongly I decided to just leave without saying anything to her because I was so pissed that I was afraid I'd say something to the old bat (she was probably about my age) I'd later regret. I walked downstream where I caught a few more fish before I decided to pack it in for the day. I was wading across the water through a shallow area when a young man who looked to be in his twenties came walking up the trail. He also had a dog with him.

"Are you fishing here?" he asked.

"I was, but I'm pretty much finished," I answered.

"Is it ok if we come through?" he asked.

"Yes, it's fine. Thank you for asking."

Millennials often get a bad rap. The old woman could learn something about consideration of others from that one. I know that one reason I'm defensive for that age group is because my two children are on the upper range of that demographic. They and their friends are nothing like the negative generalizations I sometimes hear about millennials. They are honest and hardworking and don't whine about the crummy circumstances handed to them by the older generations. Another reason I defend the millennials is that my group, the baby-boomers, were also subjected to unfair and inaccurate stereo-types by some of our elders. Old people have been complaining about the young forever. Those geezers are probably just jealous.

Caught a nice bass and hooked a snakehead

Fished yesterday evening with Capt Mike and Col. Ski at Mattawoman Creek off the Potomac River.

 

 

Although the water contains some excellent bass, Ski really wanted to catch a snakehead which have become for many a desirable game fish. In previous trips with Capt Mike he had hooked a few and landed one. He wasn't having much luck on this trip, but I caught two largemouth bass and hooked and lost a snakehead. Now I understand the appeal of snakehead fishing because the drama of the hit and the excitement of watching the fish leap was memorable.

 

Fortunately, Ski eventually hooked and landed a snakehead. 

 

Below is the larger of the two bass I caught.

 

 

We got rained on for about twenty minutes shortly after this picture was taken. Then he cleared up, but I drove through a violent thunderstorm for much of the way home.

A fishing lesson and an unusual drive home

The fishing lesson was from the charter captain, Capt. Pete, on a trip I took with him and my friend Col. Ski last Friday. There is a basic fishing technique called jigging which I've never felt I was doing right. One reason that I never learned it properly is that the situation comes up with me rarely. There were times Friday, however, when there were masses of rockfish right under the boat, a situation that clearly calls for jigging a lure straight down. Capt. Pete saw that I was allowing too much slack in the line which didn't allow me to detect a strike, and once I got the hang of that I started catching more fish. We caught a lot of fish that day, but they were all just below minimum size. Still, it was a good day.

On the way home from the marina on the South River, I drove into maybe the biggest downpour of my life. Many drivers along Route 50 pulled over to the side of the road because the visibility was so poor. Twice, I pulled over, but I decided I felt safer driving along at 20 mph rather than sitting along the side of the road. Just before the Capitol Beltway, however, I saw blue sky ahead, and when I reached the Beltway it was completely dry. It was dry as home as well. The next day the newspaper described that areas of DC flooded in the heavy rain, so the stormed apparently passed to the south of our home.

This week

Tuesday I went with my friend Kurt to the Food and Drug Administration building nearby in White Oak where our mutual friend Donovan has created a farmer's market for his fellow employees. Donovan took us on a tour of the facility where I took this picture:

Thursday I fished the Gunpowder River north of Baltimore. The river was low and clear which made fishing tough, but I was glad I went:

 

Today Stan and I took our regular Friday morning walk, this time along the Paint Branch Creek where I saw this log which spanned the stream. His son's dog, Copley, was with us, and Copley casually trotted across while I proceeded carefully. Stan took my picture.

 

 

 

Went fishing despite missing wading boots

Either I left them at the parking lot at the Daniels section of the Patapsco last October or they're somewhere here in the house. Both possibilities seem unlikely since I've searched the house and my habit is to throw the boots in the trunk when I remove my waders at the end of the fishing trip. I can't think of any other scenario.

Fortunately, I had a cheap pair that barely showed any use, and they proved serviceable for my trip on Tuesday. Coincidentally, I went to the same place on the Patapsco that I did at the end of last season when I last used the missing boots. No trout although the section was supposedly recently stocked, but the bluegills were willing. A nice spring day although windy. Water level at Hollofield was 1.65.

Lefty Kreh- An American Hero

Well, he's a hero to me, at least. Lefty is probably the most well known fly fisherman in the world through his books, instructional videos, and TV appearances. Since he was born and has most of his life here in Maryland, I've been lucky to have met him many times, and the latest time was Saturday on Kent Island.

Saturday was the annual event originally called "TieFest" but recently renamed "Lefty Kreh's TieFest" in honor of him. Before he gave his usual fly casting instructional demonstration I had a few minutes to talk with him and ask about fishing with baseball Hall-of-Famer Ted Williams. I could have asked him about other celebrities because he's fished with many politicians, entertainers, and athletes, but I was curious about Williams who brought the same passion and intensity to fishing as he did baseball. Along with that intensity, he was known to be bombastic and opinionated, so I was curious on how well he got along with the easy-going Kreh.

Lefty said Williams was very pleasant to be with during the many fishing trips they took together. Although he's over ninety, in many ways Lefty is still a modest country boy, and I had to read into his account of his first meeting with Williams. He described how the big, strong Williams first showed off his fly casting ability and then watched Lefty cast. No one, then or now, casts a fly rod better than Lefty Kreh, so I'm guessing Williams immediately realized that he could learn from spending time with him. Williams applied fanatical dedication to anything that interested him whether it was hitting a baseball or fly casting, and he did not tolerate well anyone of lesser dedication. He probably saw in Lefty a man of similar devotion to excellence.

But his ability as a fisherman is not the only reason I describe Lefty Kreh as a hero. He was a WWII vet who fought in the Battle of the Bulge. He clearly likes people and has a great sense of humor, and seems to radiate a pleasant aura. In turn, people adore him. You can see this adoration in the eyes of the crowd as people watch and listen to him explain the dos and don'ts of casting. Lefty has a way of bringing smiles to everyone's faces.

Finally, in an interview I read a few years ago he gave some of the most practical advice on marriage I've ever heard. His job may have been his passion, but writing and teaching about fishing required a lot of travel, and he described the tenderness he expressed to his wife before and during his many absences. They were married a long time, and I've also heard him describe the pain of her death a few years ago.

To Lefty I'm another familiar-looking face whose name he doesn't know, but to me he's a friend. I'm certain I'm only one of thousands who feel the same way.

The fly fishing literary tradition

It's a tradition that is centuries old. Fly fishing is not normally the most efficient method of fishing, so maybe the periods of not catching fish lead to musing about the activity. Then, with the thought processes already going, when success comes it leads to other musings about why. Whatever the reasons, fly fishers write about their avocation. I can think of only two who are accomplished painters but many who are writers, and some of these writers are well known and respected literary figures.

I'm thinking about fly fishing and literature because of a book, Teaching Trout to Talk- the zen of small stream fly fishing, by Stuart Bartow, a professor of writing and literature at State University of New York. In 172 pages Bartow includes quotations from the following:

Yeats
Emerson
Melville
Rilke
Thoreau

He also quotes from William Humphrey, Rick Bass, and Richard Brautigan who all wrote fishing pieces as well as novels. Then there are Harold Blasdell, George Harvey, and Izaak Walton who are known only for their fishing writings, as far as I know. And finally, Bartow quotes from The Odyssey, The Old Testament, Dr. Suess, and a number of Asian Buddhist writers and poets.

With all those literary references, one may wonder if the author has room left to include much about actual fishing, but he does and what he has to say is honest and accurate.

Thinking ahead to next season's fishing

A couple of days ago Pam and I drove to Annapolis for the annual ritual of getting my new fishing license at Angler's Sports Shop. I dislike being without a valid license at the start of the new year ever since a New Year's Day some years ago when the temperature was in the 70's, and most of us fishermen yearned to take advantage of the weather by wetting a line. This was before you could get a license on-line, so there wasn't any way I could legally fish since I hadn't taken action beforehand. I still prefer getting the license at a tackle store rather than using the internet, and afterwards we traditionally drive to Mike's Crab House in Riva for fried oysters.

Taking an inventory of my flies, I decided there were five types I needed to tie in preparation for next season, about a half dozen of each type.

1. Marabou bead-head- Consisting of only a marabou wing and a bead on a hook, it's about as simple as a fly can be. Nevertheless, it is effective for trout and pan fish. Marabou are fluffy feathers whose name comes from the marabou stork. Since those storks are now a protected species, fly-tying marabou generally comes from turkeys and chickens. The fluffy feathers present a life-like movement like a small baitfish as the fly travels through water. Flies that imitate other fish are called "streamers".

 

2. Crystal bugger- This fly is a variation of the popular wooly bugger which in turn came from the wooly worm which was popular when I first began fly fishing 40 years ago but is seldom mentioned these days. The basic design for these flies may go back centuries. I learned the crystal bugger as well as the marabou bead-head from books by Joe Bruce, a Maryland fishing legend. The marabou tail of the crystal bugger dominates the picture below:

 



 

3. Black and bluegill- Another simple fly which I learned about from a magazine article. As the name implies, it was designed by a tier who lives in North Carolina to catch bluegills, but it also is effective on smallmouth bass, and some use it for trout. What makes a fish bite this fly is a mystery to us humans because it doesn't seem to look like anything a fish would eat. We call flies like this "attractors".

 

4. Bend-back flies- Unlike the first three, I haven't yet used this style steamer, but I was inspired to try it because the design allows it to go through heavy aquatic vegetation without getting hung up. There are places I've been fishing lately that this feature would be beneficial.

 

5. Soft hackle wet flies- A few years ago, I read article about using the feathers of starlings to tie these. I tried some with success and would like to get back to using them on trout streams like the Gunpowder River. Wet flies imitate a subsurface stage of aquatic insects.

Speaking, singing, and praying to rivers

A few days ago the newspaper ran a story about a group of Native Americans who were traveling the 405 mile length of the Potomac River to spiritually thank the river and to wish for the health and recovery from the ills brought upon the waters by humans. The ritual involves songs, speech, and prayers and carrying a container of water from the relatively clean section at the headwaters and pouring the water into the more troubled lower part to "give the river a taste of itself."

I have spent time on all sections of the Potomac but have never thought to speak to it. While near some small streams which ultimately empty into the river, I've sometimes felt they were speaking to me, the often described "babbling brooks", but I've never been able to understand any words. The river has given a lot to me, wonderful hours of fishing, boating, and kayaking, and maybe it would be a good idea to thank the waters myself and hope that it understands. Maybe the river communicates best with the Native Americans in their language. I certainly wish them the best in their river ritual because the Potomac can use any help it can get, spiritual as well as scientific.

The Potomac is one of the rivers I know best. The other two are the Patuxent and the Patapsco, and I spent yesterday afternoon fishing for trout on the Patapsco. The trout were unwilling but the bluegill were receptive so I had an enjoyable day, and next time I'll try to remember to give thanks.

Body, Mind, and Spirit one week later

My favorite fishing, using my kayak to get to my favorite wading spots for smallmouth bass in the Upper Potomac River is, unfortunately, physically demanding, and I wonder how long I'll continue to be able to do it. I try to listen to my body, and for a few days following my last such trip a week ago my body seems to be saying to ease up. That day I fished for less than two hours while ten or even five years ago I would have kept going for five or six hours at least. Even so, the following days I tired easily, and a soreness in my neck that probably resulted from loading or unloading the kayak from the car is just now going away.

Fortunately, my mind and spirit from that fishing day are healthy. After each such trip I check over the rod and reel and clean the fly line, and these chores seem to prolong the experience. Since then, my mind occasionally wanders back to recalling the feel of the river current on my legs as I cast and the sensation of the tugs of the fish on my line. It was a good day fishing, and these memories will remain stored in my memory to be recalled on a cold winter day or a time when I'm physically unable to make such a trip.

Good morning for smallmouth bass

Fished just over an hour and a half this morning in the Potomac at the Mouth of the Monocacy. In that time I hooked seven smallmouths and landed six as well as a couple of bream, all on a surface slider. Walked back upriver to the kayak where I had lunch and then paddled up to the next gravel bar. I tried a couple of casts but didn't catch anything there which was fine because I was more than satisfied with the action I had.

Day was in the upper 80's, very humid, mostly overcast, and still. Water levels were 1.4 at Point of Rocks and 2.9 at Little Falls.

Another pleasant evening on the Chester River

As on the June trip, Stan, Jay, and I shoved off from Jay's dock on Kent Island at about 4 yesterday and stayed out until sunset, pictured below:

I seem to be taking a number of sunset pictures lately. Yesterday, I mostly had my hands too occupied with bating hooks and then soon removing white perch from the hooks in addition to smoking cigars, so I didn't get around to taking a picture until we were ready to head back.

 Great fun.

Good hike but not so good fishing

Since I decided to skip my usual walk in the park to go fishing, I decided to combine fishing and hiking by driving to Pennyfield Lock on the Potomac and walking up the C & O Canal trail to Seneca Breaks rather than driving to Violets Lock which is right on the Breaks.

For a while on the walk up this morning, I thought this plan might not be a good one for a man approaching 70 on a day with a forecasted high of 96 degrees, but the length of the hike, about five miles round trip, turned out not to be excessive. The water looked good for smallmouth bass but produced only a couple of small bluegills in about an hour and a half of fishing. I cut it short because I didn't want to press my luck by going too far into the heat of the day. I stopped briefly a couple of times on the way back and took this picture at Mile 21 just below Seneca Breaks looking downriver:

 

Just as well I cut the trip short because a couple of heavy rains have come in soon after arriving home. Water levels are 1.54 at Point of Rocks and 3.1 at Little Falls.

A mess of fish...

Went fishing on the lower Chester River off the eastern side of Kent Island yesterday evening, and the fishing was great for white perch. Although we were generally using clams and blood worms, I caught a couple on artificial lures.

My friend Stan isn't a very experienced fisherman, but he's enthusiastic and, after a slow start, managed to catch a few.

 

I've gotten to know our captain Jay through Stan. He was happy to have company and certainly was successful in putting us on fish. He gave his wife credit for suggesting the spot which was in only four feet of water.

 

 

This was typical of the catch. We baited two hooks on our bottom rigs and caught many doubles. Jay suggested a slow retrieve after casting out, a suggestion I found surprising, but he was certainly right.

 

 

After about five hours on the water, it was time to call it quits, and we had a nice sunset to view back at the marina.

 

 

The total catch was about 3 dozen. Stan didn't want any, and Jay took only about a half dozen. I had a lot of fish to clean this morning.

 

 

 

 

Truman's Big Fish

For trophy rockfish (striped bass) season in the Chesapeake, my friend in Virginia's Northern Neck, Capt. Dave, organized a trip out of Ingram Bay for eight fishermen last Wednesday, May 11. Shortly after arriving at Capt. Dave's the evening before the fishing trip, I met Truman, one of the few I hadn't fished with previously, and based on his appearance I might have thought he was in a biker gang. However, I learned a long time ago that the old saying of not judging a book by the cover was true and, besides, Matt had brought him. I had fished a number of times with Capt. Dave's fishing buddy Matt and knew him to be about as solid a guy as I've ever known. Anyone who was ok with Matt was ok with me.

I soon learned that four years before Truman had a bad fall off a roof which caused a severe head injury which affected his memory and made necessary an internal shocking device to prevent seizures. What he could do physically and mentally was always a challenge for him since. After I heard the story of his accident and what he'd been up against since then, I couldn't help but pull for the guy. He had no self-pity and an innocence about him. The morning of the fishing trip, he and I walked together to the marina and he spoke of his excitement of this new experience of fishing salt water. He lived in Western Kentucky, and I don't think he had ever been on water as big as the Chesapeake Bay.

On the boat when we drew cards, Truman got an ace that give him the first shot when a fish hit. I wasn't optimistic about my chances because from my card I was to be last in the rotation, but I was feeling good about Truman's luck. During the hours before the cry of "fish on" went out, I strolled about the boat chatting with everyone as it was becoming increasingly likely to it shaping up as a slow day for trolling. Many of the other guys expressed the same thought that had gone through my mind- that it would be nice if Truman, at least, caught a fish.

When finally a fish hit, Truman struggled to reel it in, but he was able to land it. The rockfish was a big one, 47 1/2 inches. Everyone on the boat was grinning, and Truman was smiling and at the same time looked shocked. I don't think I remember any trip being so satisfying even though the fishing was poor.

April Ritual

Just as the cycle of the natural world bring the anadromous fish from the salt water up into the freshwater rivers to spawn, it brings me out to fish for one species, the shad. For this, I seem to have settled on Fletcher's Boat House on the Potomac in recent years.

Wednesday morning, the man at the counter looked vaguely familiar to me and I guess I to him because he didn't ask for a driver's license when I rented a row boat. He was unusually pessimistic about the fishing and suggested I try upriver where there was more current. The river levels are lower than usual at this time of year because of the lack of recent rain.

Always like the look of the Virginia shore from the river at Fletcher's Cove:

As usual, many boats are visible at any moment, so you have a sense of how well other anglers are doing and no one seemed to be catching much. I have to admit some smug satisfaction about my success which was slow but steady. In the end I got about a half dozen shad, all hickories, mostly on the spinning rod but a couple on the fly rod, in about three hours of fishing.

Came home and fished at the pond where I caught my first bluegills of the year. They were good size and I should have kept a few.

First fishing of the year

Although "opening day, for trout fishing was Saturday, I didn't get out because I wasn't feeling well. I was feeling better on Sunday, and caught a trout and a largemouth bass in about an hour of fishing. I used a spinning rod and a Mepps in-line spinner. I got another trout the next day, so we had enough for a fish dinner that night.

Then yesterday we had one of the few days lately of light wind, and I took advantage of it to try the fly rod. Using a marabou bead-head, I caught a really pretty good-sized crappie which I probably should have kept or at least photographed. I then caught another trout which I did photograph. It's indicative of the other two I've caught so far.