Litton's Fishing Lines: 2023-12-03

Tuesday, December 5, 2023

Great day on the river with Fred Matero. I had planned on a few hours, but Fred didn't need to be back at my house until four. He had arrived at 10 a.m. Once we had driven to a second lot, it didn't take long for me to fully agree with spending that time. Not because I had caught the big one. That didn't happen until we were on our way out to soon drive off for the third lot. It was because I got into the fishing and let all else go.

We began by parking in a South Branch Wildlife Management Area lot. Another friend, Noel Sell, knows about that, and I fished confidently because of two things. For one, it was evident the stretch out in front there was stocked. No matter how hard hit--and maybe it hadn't been hard hit--many of the trout wouldn't have been caught. But the water was very shallow. So secondly, once I found waist-deep water, I understood I was in a good spot.

Fall stockers spread out. For example, you hear about big trout caught at Duke Island dam. It's not stocked. You also see photos of trout at Island Farm Weir at the confluence of the Millstone River and the Raritan.

Not all of the trout spread out. And they don't necessarily situate themselves in deep water, but if you can find some water maybe a foot or two deeper than the rest, you're in a good spot.

We had fished water new to both of us. Actually, I never asked if Fred is familiar with the second area we fished. We fished a spot where I've caught trout before. Fred got in the river before I did, and as I was going into the water, he pointed out a rise on the surface. Since he didn't immediately move in that direction to position a cast, I said, "I'm going to catch that trout."

Nothing happened.

But I edged upstream not by much, where I felt a tug just out in front of me, pulled back, and thankfully, my eyes keyed in on whatever was happening there...to see my line moving rapidly downstream not by a snag but a fish. It still didn't feel as if I had been hit, but my mind knew that had to be it. I cast again. Wham! Again, right out in front of me. Missed the hit, but that it definitely was. I could tell by the way it pulled in the opposite direction rather than stayed in place as a snag does.

We kept trying before we got out and hit the trail to go further downstream. Once again, we found a situation like the previous--deeper water amidst shallows. This time, though, it might have been more than a foot or two deeper. Maybe three feet deeper. But in any event, while from where we began the stretch on downstream looked good, it proved to be too shallow. We were in the right place immediately up above...where, again, I thought I had hooked something inanimate, like a stick, but I looked sharp and saw the trout turn near the surface as it came off the hook.

As we headed back, we came upon the first spot we had tried, and I said, "Do you want to try for that trout again?"

"Sure."

(I'm sure more than one trout existed there, but one thing at a time.)

I said to Fred, "Why don't you get out in front of me? I feel guilty for stealing your fish."

"That wasn't my fish. Do you really think the one that hit you was the same?"

"I don't know. I'm sure there's more than one fish here."

I cast straight out in front of me and after a few turns of the reel--fish on. "Fred," I said.

"That's like a three-pounder!"

"Feels like it."

Soon, he said, "Look at the size of that fish. That's a five-pounder," as he tried unsuccessfully to net it.

After a long while, I did get the trout in the net. To have attempted to pull it up on pebbles using four-pound test and an ultralight might have meant a lost fish. I didn't have to unhook the jig. The connection was that tenuous.