Friday, April 21, 2023
Thursday, April 20, 2023
Explorer Mode
We headed for the dam. Yes, the rocks look like fish magnets, and we marked some fish, too. That's when I cut the electric and put on a Hot 'n Tot to get down to those fish. Just as I was about to engage the motor, though, something good size struck Brian's jointed Rapala on the surface.
We never slowed way down to cast topwaters along the edge. We're in explorer mode. After trolling back along the dam, we still couldn't get any to hit, but we noticed fish dimpling the surface that appeared to be trout out over deeper water. I saw fish backs move along the surface, so I was sure they weren't herring. I put on a Phoebe and we trolled through the area. Nothing happened. Nor did we mark fish on the graph.
A large cove had looked really interesting as we approached the dam, but I had cut across its face, rather than having gone back where I thought shallows might draw in some fish. Now I put on a Rebel Pop-R. I knew I wouldn't have much time with it. Maybe enough.
A small stream enters all the way in the back. I put the Pop-R maybe 20 feet in front of where it must be cool water that flows. Put the plug in shallows of two or three feet. Something smashed it. I missed the hit.
We headed towards the ramp a mile or two away, and soon Brian was fast to a nice-sized smallmouth that hit the jointed Rapala. Over about nine feet of water. He played the fish on an ultralight. His goal for today was to catch one on the ultralight. And on that jointed Rapala, which he had found when cleaning out the center console of his truck.
Moving on, we turned at a right angle around a small point and pretty soon a smallmouth, it must have been, slammed my Mepp's Aglia Long. I felt a fierce pull and then the fish was off. As you can see in the photograph, I had made the mistake of not checking if my snap was closed. Three or four times the bass leapt trying to throw that spinner as we got back underway.
Fortunately, I had a couple more of the same in my tackle box.
I got hit again almost as soon as I had got it out there, but the bass came off. By the way it hit hard, I'm sure it was a smallmouth.
We traveled a half mile or more, before the pickerel I'm photographed with took the Mepp's deeply. It fought with such a dogged resistance, I thought it was a better fish than the two pounds at most it weighed.
After we got out of the boat, and I had waded barefoot up to my knees getting the boat on Brian's trailer, the shakes assailed me so badly I could no longer speak normally. I had waded the same getting the boat in and never put shoes back on, so my feet remained in contact with the cold boat bottom. It was 69 degrees when we got up there but had cooled off very quickly when the sun went down, and as I drove out of the West Milford region, I had 55 degrees on the thermometer.
More than an hour later, after a shower, I still felt cold.
Tuesday, April 18, 2023
No Keepers but a Great Day
This outing's been in the works for many months. When I told Fred I'm really keen on a keeper tog, he listened. And he figured April 18th was the best bet.
We got to the lighthouse by about 10:30. The wind must have been a steady 30 knots from the southwest. The bay, streaked with white caps, loosened up the hold of brown snot-algae from the rocks, the bottom, whatever else. It got all over our lines, sinkers, swivels, bait. We'd haul up eight pounds of the stuff, and we didn't cast back out for long, though we did walk well out and away from the lighthouse, hoping to find a way to fish in close to the rocks where maybe the stuff got pulled out farther.
Never happened.
We tried another spot where inlet becomes more like bay. We got less algae on our lines, but still too much. In any event, no bites.
Besides the green crabs we used hoping to catch tog, Fred had some salted clams. We drove to a spot Fred knows about near the Causeway. Here algae wasn't loose in the water, and we set clams along a channel and on a flat, using three-ounce pyramid sinkers, hoping for stripers.
Lots of conversation for an hour-and-a-half or so, but no hits.
I got the bright idea of going back to the inlet. Maybe the incoming tide would be free of algae.
When we got there, Fred recognized the vehicle of a Friend of his. We found him waiting out the tide with the same idea I had. Fred and I decided to go ahead and fish, even though the tide either continued to drop or the water near the surface moved seaward because of that wind.
Maybe 40 knots by then.
And then, after maybe a half hour, maybe less--I can't tell how long, lost my sense of time--the wind all but quit. The water stopped flowing, too. I got a bite.
I had put my green crab in close on the rocks. I felt it get bit again. Said nothing. Again. And then the strike came and I set the hook. The blackfish I'm photographed with above.
For maybe a half hour, we got lots of bites, but most of them felt the way I'd expect in water of about 52 degrees. Little taps, non-committal. But the other day, Fred caught blackfish left and right.
Today, I ended up catching another tog, Bigger. About 13 inches, but no keeper. Fred caught two, also under keeper size.
It seemed that as soon as the fish began feeding in the calm, the wind began to come at us again but from the northeast. And the water flowed as tide began to rise. And the algae got all over our lines once more. And the fish stopped biting.
