Slow at Bedminster

Sun was bright earlier in the afternoon, temperatures in the 60's, and I knew if Mike and I could fix my front bumper on the Honda in time, Bedminster Pond would be worth trying. That's not to say it wouldn't be worth trying at thirty degrees with a suspending jerkbait, but that I haven't fished for early season largemouths in weather like that in a long time. Tree swallows flew inches above the pond's surface, so it's no longer the early season so much anyhow.

First I hooked on a Johnson spinner what I'm pretty sure was a crappie on the deep side, fishing there because I figured the water's warmed up enough into the low to mid 50's that the northeast side doesn't matter so much with all that sunshine on it. Are there crappies in here? But I went over to that side pretty quickly, catching my first bass on an Aglia Long in the northeast corner where I seem to always catch a bass. I lost another a little way south, and then lost another yet, both fish striking a little short and both bigger than the one I caught, but I judged the fishing slow compared to that day in March, trying the Savko Special, which made no difference, trying a Colorado bladed Blue Fox, ditto.

Before I got to the dual pipes, which clearly seem to have or have had some connection to the river when it floods, I decided I'd walk all the way around the five acres, hoping I could keep to the shoreline edge without a lot of inconvenience, but to the west of the pipes, the beaten path peters out quickly. That says something about the fishing style here for the most part. Go where others have gone before. I made my way through sticks and briars, fishing where virtually no lures scan, but I finally made my way up to the big path along that western side, cutting back down on a well-worn alley, having felt a little impatient and pressed for time since I began working southward. Dusk was coming on, and when I came, I hadn't thought I'd stay out so long, but the effort felt pretty good, despite my upper back and ribs on my right pained from a long shift at the supermarket.

Here to the west the water is at its deepest. I never have counted down to bottom, but it's got to be at least five feet, and from the looks of this place after May--scum algae wall-to-wall--can't be much deeper than that. I worked the Aglia slowly. Elsewhere I had retrieved moderately to quick. Another poppindocker nailed it. This one about eight inches long, two inches or so shorter than the previous, but catching little ones is a lot better than catching nothing, so long as they get a healthy release.

I laid out a few more casts, then tried casting narrowly along overhanging branches and got the spinner caught in twigs. That's what easily happens when a little impatience clouds judgment. I had lost the Johnson to twigs, and now I found myself able to reach the Aglia with a 10-foot stick, knocking it off the twigs, and then trying to catch the treble hook on that stick, my bail open with the rod over to my left about five yards. The maneuver wasn't working, and the Aglia finally wound up getting more entangled, breaking off and dropping into the water as I had continued trying to get it caught on the wood.

So that was enough today.