Delaware River Fallfish on Rapala Plug and Other Stories

Since we took Matt to NJ Audubon Ridge Walkers camp, Mohican Outdoor Center above Blairstown on the Kitatiny Ridge, I dropped into a sentimental mood somewhat, turning photo album pages for an idea to blog today. Driving home by more and less random directions for the sake of curiosity, my wife and I drove through Warren and Sussex counties after Stillwater, no fishing, just sight seeing and photography, lodging more routes and villages in memory. I had thought I would write on Great Egg Inlet at the end of Seven Bridges Road (reminiscent of the Eagles song) where a girlfriend and I once found loads of fresh, clean mussels, filling whole onion bags. Legally entitled to do this, however, since I had a commercial shellfish license, I'm not filled in on the laws as they exist now, nor do I really remember just what they were for mussels in 1985, but I collected less than my fill.

Since I have no photos and not much story (wow you can get mussels down the Seven Bridges Road), I let that idea fade but there it is in a nutshell anyhow.

In the photo above that's Matt, age six I think, with a fallfish caught on a #9 Rapala, Delaware River, fallfish a kind of minnow. This 14-incher socked that plug! Unexpected for a minnow.

I've used fallfish as musky bait. Had a 20-pounder take a fallfish electric trolled, right off the surface, years ago.

In the other photo he's five, fly fishing, very determined about trying. So I had taken him to the North Branch Raritan River flowing through Bedminster where we live. I wasn't fly fishing regularly at the time--in fact, not at all. I simply informed him of fly fishing. He wanted to know. 

I like how the light in the upper slight left of the picture spills down the rocks and zig-zags to come over the water as if Matt could walk right out the portal he came here from. Only supposing so. But I like to imagine things like this based on factual patterns in the world.

There you are. It's photographed. And you can be plain, ordinary, and prosaic about it. Or you can wonder if we don't go into a realm of light when we die--and return if we want to.

I call this photo The Gateway to Heaven. Notice how the light to the front and above of my son is like a walkway out.