Brian and I were going to fish one of the Newark Reservoirs today. He bailed, so I emailed Oliver. He was up to something else today with family, so I went over to the North Branch with killies leftover from the Island Beach surf Sunday. I got skunked and never posted. Not a tap. Just no fluke there, while they seem everywhere else. Maybe Fred's been catching even more of them. I know Brian caught dozens Sunday at Manasquan Inlet, I think he said, though no keepers, but he lost a big one.
It was really interesting at the 202/206 bridge. Much more interesting than I have time to go into, and I was there only an hour or so. I had a nice smallmouth take my large killie on the first cast. Once in the water, that killie was dancing around with the precision and speed of an insect, but it got caught, and then that smallmouth veered off to my left at high speed. I tightened up quickly and set the hook, hoping not to gut hook it, but I just pulled the killie free. And I kept using it while none of a few other little smallies would take it. I saw a rainbow trout, too. Ninety-four degrees out.
And then a largemouth just blundered into the scene, and I let that killie sink a little into its path. It just opened its maw, took in that big killie, kept going--while I suddenly had become aware my line had tangled on the bail I had opened. I got it free in a jiffy but that bass had dropped the bait, because it felt tension on that line.
I put on a fresh killie as if that would make all the difference. Meanwhile, I saw another, larger, rainbow trout. (I once came upon someone here in August with two rainbows on a stringer.) The fresh killie was, again, quick as an insect, and of course, this was supposed to attract a bass. Eventually, a really nice smallmouth of about 13 or 14 inches lumbered into view and I moved the killie to get it active. Yes, that attracted the bass, which stopped its approach as the killie moved away faster. I got the killie to stop, and the bass advanced again, but then the killie again moved swiftly, and instead of lunging, as you would expect of an oh-so-fierce predator, the bass lazily turned and lazily swam off into the darkness under the bridge.
I cast back under there repeatedly over the course of an hour. I was certain, after the encounter with that nice smallmouth, there were plenty of fish back there.