January first is the start of the new year but in many ways the years fishing ends sometime around middle November. Yes I fish all winter, heck a couple years ago the years best fish was caught in December. But the cold bundled up fishing of winter blends easier into the cold bundled up fishing of early springtime and in many ways belongs to next year. The sudden abrupt change from great fishing one week to fishing all day for one bite the next seems like an ending of sorts. Few things in life make me sentimental, dogs, my granddaughter and end of a years fishing are the short list off the top of my head.
It's been a pretty special year on the water. If you spend as much time outside quiet and alone as I like to do special things are just bound to happen. Early spring was highlighted by a trip to a little rugged creek high in the mountains of North Carolina. Here tiny brook trout each looking like a jeweled miracle came willingly to a nymph fished on a little 4wt. The little creek more fell than flowed off the mountainside. Stair stepping down in a series of knee to waist high waterfalls and at the base of each one or two perfect six to ten inch trout perfectly in scale. The beauty of the experience was surreal and I'd find myself just stopping, trying to let it soak in so I can remember when I'm too old to climb to places like this. This was also a three day stretch where, alone in the mountains, I didn't speak to another human being, not easy to do in todays world. April brought a halcyon day that had me catching a 25.5" saugeye and a 19.5" smallmouth about an hour apart. What I remember most was being scared wading the riffle to get to the fishing. But a stout stick and going painfully slow got me across the high 50something degree water and to fishing heaven. But so far the year as a whole had been slow compared to other years and I began to think it was looking like a slow year all around. Then the end of April and into May brought a flurry of fine smallmouth fishing almost as good as fall. And I hate to say in my frantic attempts to fish every minute of it the whole experience has blended into one long blur. Lots of great fish including a river crappie pushing 14" but I'm almost ashamed to say no singular moments that stand out now months later. A lesson learned for the future I hope. May into June brought a 19" smallmouth and some swell hybrid fishing on some new stretches of river I'd never gotten around to exploring though it's close to home. Then the agony of high flooded streams, luckily happening after the spawn. I resorted to fishing for largemouth in the ponds of a wildlife area and daydreaming of my beloved rivers. July was everything June was not. The months beginning found my wife and I camped on the beach on a barrier island off the South Carolina coast. The fishing was anything but spectacular, mostly small rays and sharks. But that was more than made up for by being there every morning as the sun rose over the ocean with the sea birds passing overhead and sharing the beach at daylight with a couple small deer. One morning while trying in vain to catch a flounder at a river mouth a dolphin passed thirty feet away hunting fish himself. While not a stellar smallmouth month, July was filled with other great fish. I caught Fish Ohio channel catfish, saugeye, bluegill and crappie and seemingly a FO hybrid every trip. July and August are the height of my overnight camping season too and I spent a night or two camped on either the LMR or GMR almost every week. One of my favorite places involves first about a mile kayak paddle up a slow section of stream to get to. This section is so placid and I've done it so many times I feel safe doing it in the dark. Several times I'd leave after work and end up paddling the river at midnight. Which never failed to be memorable. From the startling slap of an unseen beaver's tail to the beauty of the night clouds scuttling over the moon. The same stretch during the day had a mother wood duck doing a broken wing imitation right in front of me for hundreds of yards as she "led" me away from her hidden chicks. And then on another morning a doe swimming the river, climbing out and seemingly disappearing right into the foggy air. Camping on the river always leads to one of the best things you can do outside which is sit by a campfire staring into the fire listening to the sounds of the night and the river. One of the coolest sounds you will ever hear is the sound of an owl calling at night echoing over the water. Another night was highlighted by the greenish glow of a big meteor sliding in silent splendor across the night sky. July also gave me a few glorious trips when the river jumped up from rains further upstream. Where the clear water of a tributary met the muddy water of the river hybrids and white bass set up in a feeding frenzy. Suddenly baitfish would start to fly everywhere in waves as the striped fish tore into them. Every cast into the melee was rewarded with a strike. Some of the neatest fishing I've ever experienced. Bait was packed so tightly where the clear and muddy water met that as you fought a fish you could track its progress by the minnows skipping away from the fighting fish.
I hated to see July go but August was kind to me as well. Giving me a 30" striper out of a small southwestern Ohio stream as well as some swell hybrids and a 19" smallie. August also had a weekend camping trip that saw my grandson catch his first fish.
September found me with some good friends on the Clinch River. Not used to the glorious striper fishing down south it was amazing just to watch the line steadily peel off as 37 and 38 inch stripers thrilled us with long runs. Then back home for more hybrids and smallies and an overnighter where I caught big channels on a handline wrapped around a pop bottle all night.
From about mid September thru October was probably the best fishing of the year, as it is most years. I caught a huge channel that was one of the years best fish stretching the tape to 29" and had a hybrid trip that had me hooking 20+ hybrids that were 20" or better. But the best part was the smallmouth fishing. I think in a four week period I caught five 19" plus smallmouth culminating in a fat toad that was 20". An oddball catch was a big grass carp out of the river that I hooked right under the chin on a grub. No idea if he was trying to eat it or that was just where I happened to snare him. Warm weather had fishing going strong right into the first week of November when one night a giant shovelhead engulfed my swimbait. The monstrous 43+ inch fish had his way with my light spinning tackle and I think surprised us both by not getting off and actually letting me land him. It just seemed to be the icing on the cake of a year that saw me fish around 150 days. Along the way I met a small army of deer and beaver, pileated woodpeckers and kingfishers, cormorants and snakes. Glimpsed an otter and had a muskrat almost climb onto my boot in the middle of the night. Heard sandhill cranes call thru morning fog and osprey scream. And saw more eagles in southern Ohio than I ever have before as well see fox, coyote, raccoon, and a possum. And weirdly enough found four rubber ducks along the river, each one months apart from the other. Any one else finding rubber ducks???
Now it's bit more hunting and the once or twice a week ritual of putting on every stitch of clothing I own and chasing saugeye. But like I said before part of me feels that belongs more to next year and this years fishing has passed, I'm sorry to see it go. Thank you fishing gods for a pretty swell year...
No comments:
Post a Comment