Cold Front Conditions End Positively

Tough one yesterday. Brian and I began throwing Chatterbaits, and he hooked up pretty quickly, as if the 15-inch or so bass presaged a lot more to come. You might be familiar with the feeling. It still fools me.

I had fished long enough to switch-out and persistently work a Yo Zuri jerkbait. It never occurred to me to snap that plug onto my medium power 5 1/2 rod, even though it was obvious to me I couldn't jerk it around as tightly on my 7-foot medium-heavy Speed Stick. Maybe that's because I liked the rhythm-retrieve with some jerk to it.

So did my first bass of the year, somewhere around 18 or 19 inches. I wanted to release it quickly, rather than pull out the measuring tape. It struck the plug near the end of a retrieve, and loomed a lot larger in the somewhat stained water.

I continued to throw that plug, while Brian stuck to various Chatterbaits, both of us agreeing the fishing got boring. I felt like going in early, but never opened my mouth on that account. Joe Santiago, of the NJ Multispecies Podcast and Mayhem on Facebook, famously said, "You have to suffer for the fish." I felt willing to do just that, rather than give up, when Brian had said he wasn't giving up. We had been fishing in the wind, which had come up suddenly from the north. The lake is shallow. The graph kept reading between 2 1/2 and 3 feet. Brian had told me its deepest water is 7 or 8 feet. About 150 acres of water in total. That shallow water along the south shore was stirred up and dingy. We decided to get out of the wind and headed north at the full speed of Brian's electric motor. 

We found the water not clear but not off-color. What I call normal. I immediately took my 5 1/2-foot rod in hand, and snapped on a Mini-King spinnerbait, fishing it in full focus, despite the cloud of pessimism I refreshed by watching people on shore closely. People out for walks. Sitting lotus style. And so on. All of which felt more fascinating than watching a movie does to me these days. Relieved the boredom.

Soon, I got hit. The bass jumped and threw the hook. All 10 inches of it. But a bass.

At some point, Brian said, "We'll fish the dusk bite." 

"OK."

His lake, his boat. I wasn't going to be a bad guest. Besides, I've fished for many decades. I have some knowledge of what's possible. You don't give into despair just because you haven't got another bass in the boat for three hours. I suffered despair when I admitted it had got boring. But in the end, the likes of that might make it a more interesting day. 

I was still thinking of what Santiago had said about suffering. People wear T-Shirts with his words on them now. Do I really quote him on my new website? (Once it's up.) The spectre of Ayn Rand was present. "Not any kind of suffering." You never affirm it, according to her philosophy, so what about my own?

Honesty is the best policy. Whoever said that first, the words are popular. My back ached. I had felt despair. Boredom. I knew what the back ache means. Tomorrow at work... Yes, it hurt until near the end of my shift. But it got better. Was it worth it? At the end of my shift, I knew--yes it was. So, honestly. Who doesn't suffer for the fish? But we get better in part because being out there is very, very healthy. People take antidepressants when spending time in nature will do. We also get better because we do nothing stupid in the process.

I once heard a reference to Santiago saying that he said preparing his boat is a pain in the ass. Honesty again. You can appreciate the prep work, but who hasn't felt preparing for a day of fishing takes "too" much time? Even if you get over the feeling in a minute or two, you've felt it, right?

I stuck to the Mini-King. We were out of the wind and in clearer water, so that tiny 16th-ounce spinnerbait fit the ticket, in my opinion. I got plenty of distance casting it on Power Pro braid.

Brian hooked a 10- or 12-incher that leapt and threw the hook. Still using a Chatterbait. With a mouthful of a trailer.  

Again. 

"I just got hit," Brian said. "It was a dink."

Earlier he had said the little ones push it aside. 

I cast to the spot. Brian doesn't mind that. I don't either, if I open my mouth when I get hit, and invariably I do. Nothing happened--until the spinnerbait came near the end of the retrieve. The bass would have measured somewhere around 15 inches.

Fishing is a mystery no one has ever plumbed to the fullest. To ordinary reckoning, why would catching another bass complete my day? Why would a whole new mood of optimism come over me? Indeed, why would I even have caught that bass? 

At sunset, no less. We continued to fish. In a much more normal manner of anticipation. Nothing happened but something had. 

We moderns think we're really smart because we know about chemistry. More specifically, endorphins. I could do a little Google research, but before I might do that, I'm going to point out there must be a link between ecological patterns and endorphins. 

So much for a tough day under a fairly severe cold front. Temps in the 50's for an afternoon high. Even so, in all that sunlight, I wore just a Nasa T-shirt for a while. Most of the time, I had a Woolrich shirt on under a winter coat. When we pulled away from the ramp in the dusk, it was 48 degrees. 

  

The day completed upon sunset.

Different Private Lake

Captain Scott Tarnoski of The King's Ransom

 

Tarnoski is on the left, Brian Cronk to the right, Tyler the mate in the middle. Last July 30th. 

Go Fund Me Captain Scott Tarnoski of the King's Ransom on Lake Ontario is suffering from acute myeloid leukemia, recently diagnosed and by what I've gathered admitted into the hospital for at least two months. Naturally, a charter captain pays a king's ransom for a boat fit for the Great Lakes...and has little money leftover for an insurance policy. But Scott has earned loads of social capital to draw upon and you're in on it, reading these words. Let's face it. All of us who have jobs paying for great benefits are advantaged in a way he isn't. Even a small contribution shows up the notion that we're altogether dependent on corporate structure. And you can hope to go up there someday and tell him you pitched in! A ride on that boat is worth it, not to mention catching the salmon!

It seems as if everybody in Sodus Point, New York, is aware. They had special events at bars and all else to raise awareness and funds. Here in New Jersey, Joe Santiago is leading the way through Mayhem and the Multispecies Podcast. You get the idea when you realize small contributions add up. Some of us don't need security more than we need to live up to our legend. Where the greater pride lies--legend or corporate earnings--is open to endless debate, but Scott Tarnoski is certainly a legend among the greater regional angling community.

He's someone who believes in offering a life-changing experience for his clients. And he's a passionate and greatly skilled angler himself when he has time. And hunter. I followed some of his whitetail adventures out-of-state on Facebook.

I find his website interesting, so I'm offering you the link to it.  

Last July Aboard King's Ransom

Millington Gorge Passaic River Trout

Millington Gorge has the expected strong currents in abundance, though the river does get some relief here and there where it slows a bit. Water isn't especially deep but plenty to hold trout. And while you may think of the Passaic as a mud-bottomed river where carp thrive, don't expect to catch any carp in the Gorge. Rocks are all over the place, and if you're careless while wading, you'll get wet. 

In addition to trout, Brenden Kuprel, who showed me the way today, says the Gorge has sunfish and largemouth bass. At the time, I was preoccupied with salmon eggs that seemed too soft to have been salted, very frustrated with them, as trout after trout hit and snitched them, so the thought of smallmouth bass didn't occur to me until later. Brenden had already left.

So I will leave the question of their existence for a later post. I could text message Brenden right now but feel there's more class in leaving the question open. 

Smallmouths are abundant in the Passaic near Patterson.

Brenden had invited me last night. We met at 9:30 a.m. in the lot near the railroad tracks. Classic American scene of free-growing and free-flowing wilds. I fear that if we lose such access, we'll lose our nation, too. It will implode like an ancient bag woman who sits against a wall staring at a Time Square screen all day, all night, with a look of infinite appall. 

We each got our waders on, and I believe it was when I reached for my vest, that I realized I had left my rod at home. That is the first time I have ever gone fishing and forgotten the rod. Or rods. Any amount of rods forgotten. I'm told my memory loss is normal for my age. Everyone seems to dance around the fact that both of my parents died due to complications from Alzheimer's. Just putting that out there in case you're wondering. I'm not much afraid of it. I already know from apparently normal memory loss that you can know you're at loss and not suffer. The important thing is that you're beginning to enter the final stages of a full and flourishing life.

That life never was perfect, so what's the difference?

Or, it was never perfect for very long, so what's the difference, when imperfection is what calls upon acceptance?

I got my rod and got back to the Millington Gorge, parking my Honda Civic right next to Brenden's Forrester. I left my cell phone in the car, because I didn't want the responsibility. But you can see that Gorge is down there, by looking at the photos. I got down there and didn't see Brenden. I took a few casts in some slower water, missing a hit. Later, I asked Brenden if they actually stock on downstream there at the tracks. He thinks they do but isn't certain. In any event, we found trout everywhere in the Gorge, and plenty of water remained that we didn't fish. 

I decided to climb back up and call Brenden. He had made his way upstream and said I could park up there. I drove up Pond Hill Road and took a spot from very little space left. A couple of good 'ole boy types, full of foul language, told me they had caught one trout. I later said to Brenden that can mean one of two things: either few trout are there, or they left plenty behind. (Simple minds all round.)

Anyway, plenty of trout were there. I took some home. As I had been saying, I missed hits from fish after fish. Finally, I caught one after I did the obvious thing and tried a different jar of eggs. Then another after Brenden left. (He had caught some on a fake worm under a float, though I don't know how many.) I walked just a little further upstream where Brenden had caught one, and began picking off one after another from that run and yet another run even further up. I ran up a total of 15 trout caught.

The second fish I hooked on further upstream from where I caught the first two, was a real river horse, a trout of at least 16 inches, hooked in powerful current and hugging bottom...so I felt I had control, because slack water is at bottom. You don't work a fish too hard on a microlight rod and two-pound test, but you can put pressure on it, which is what I did, knowing I had to tire it out, however long it would take, and it was taking a while. Instead, the hook pulled free. Oh, well.

"Good fight," I felt.

 

Having climbed almost to the top.

 Basking Ridge Road

Hunterdon County Trout

New Jersey Trout Anglers for Browns Stocked

Brown Trout Petition Surprised to see the petition launched in 2019, but it just goes to show that the sentiment gaining strength now is not new. I guess it's being communicated more. The growing call among New Jersey trout stamp holders to see brown trout stocked again. I know many of us talk about brookies stocked again, too, but that seems very unlikely, now that the new law is in place. That brook trout in the Trout Conservation Zone must be released. The zone dominates northwestern New Jersey. Once a legal precedent is set, it's difficult to go back on it.  

Why is New Jersey special? Furunculosis happens in state hatcheries across the country. A common disease that other states deal with, without discontinuing brown trout stockings. Perhaps more research would serve me well, but since I'm cramped for time, I'll suggest that anyone who wants to know more about why can look for answers online. I just point out, as we all know, that having only rainbow trout stocked makes for a less interesting fishery.

Scott Fisher's petition needs more signatures. It's not that I know about politics in New Jersey. I'm not very informed, because I spend my time otherwise. But anyone can tell that a petition with a large percentage of signatures from among everyone who buys the stamp, is a moving document in and of itself. It makes the difference of objectifying our cause. Whether the people in office do anything or not. They can't help but listen when collectively we become loud. 

I, for one, have felt very proud of Pequest. Just read my article from 2020, which I link to at bottom. I've felt as if New Jersey must be an exceptionally well-stocked state. But when it comes down to division, I'm on the side of the trout fishermen, being one of them, of course. And it's come down to division, already, when we should be a whole community--the Division of Fish and Wildlife and us together. Tom Kean used to say it. "Perfect together." People in the Division don't really want to be left out, nobody does, but maybe the onus is on them to make the difference only they can, through hearing our petition. 

Whether we're well-stocked or not, we're certainly a state like no other when it comes to attitude among anglers. I've done a little searching out of Facebook trout communities, and I never found another like Trout Fishing in Nj. Now we have NJ Multispecies Mayhem on Facebook, too, and I doubt it's possible for any online fishing community as brash to arise anywhere else. Maybe I could have looked harder, but I doubt it. As we all know, New Jersey is the most densely populated state. That gets us at each others throats, but it also concentrates the passion among us. It makes us the most socially vibrant trout community anywhere in the world, I'll bet.

Pequest Hatchery

Pink Worm Bobber and Salmon Eggs Trout

Brenden Kuprel and I began fishing mid-morning on the Musconetcong River near Waterloo Village, and though the water was high with a strong current, clarity was good, and I got hit pretty quickly. I missed some more hits before I caught two trout on my microlight rod before Brenden caught his first, photographed above, on a pink worm under an arrangement of split shots of descending heaviness on the line under a float. Nice trout with a kype. I hoped the fish would holdover. Soon, he caught another, though after I lost another almost at the net, hits quit coming and we left. 

We tried a few spots near Tilcon Lake, where Brenden caught his third on the worm. It's a productive arrangement for a river. I miss a lot more hits on salmon eggs than he misses on the worm. If I got hit here once near Tilcon, though, it was a very subtle take.

At Stephen's State Park, we separated. Brenden decided to fish a couple of big eddies in front of the parking lot, while I walked downstream an eighth of a mile or so. Flow seemed even heavier, With so much water in the river, fish have far to go if they please. I situated myself far from the stocking point, but surely some of the trout had made it much further downstream. My second cast yielded an 11-incher, and no more hits came after that. I had made the walk with a certain spot in mind, and it was occupied by two fishermen who looked like they wanted to stay a long time.

I marched back to the lot.

Brenden had caught nothing, and we drove off for Changewater. There I thought that with some weight on my line, it was possible to get hit, but that never happened, nor to Brenden. By then I had had it with the high water and Lockatong Creek felt promising. I never got hold of my feelings to realize I could, of course, put even more weight on the line and fish right down the torrent. Because at bottom, the current is slack. Trout hold down there.  

Brenden set a new destination on his mobile device. I believe I've made my way there from Changewater without one, but it got us there faster. Midway, we stopped at Mulhockaway Creek. The water was beautiful. Clear like tap water. I never saw a trout and never got hit. Nice hole six feet deep, too. Brenden never got hit, either, and his float arrangement might have felt out of place to him. He began talking about the appropriateness of microlight method to little streams. I made a mental note to be sure my book emphasizes the fit sufficiently.

I can't remember ever getting skunked on the Lockatong, but my favorite two spots yielded nothing and possibly not a hit, as the three I thought I got were so subtle I'm not certain that's what they were. Brenden cast a spinner for nothing, and on downstream a few miles, taking Federal Twist Road, we tried a beautiful pool full of shale in its depth, and I got hit hard. Three taps followed and then no more, so I figured the trout got fed up on the four eggs. Brenden had a few taps on his pink worm that took some of it, and he thinks they could have been sunfish. 

Enough.

We took State Highway 29 southward along the D & R Canal and Delaware River, getting onto U.S. 202 East above Lambertville. We were near Three Bridges when Brenden remembered Tuesday is the South Branch Raritan stocking day. I shot a look at the clock--4:51.

We got to the river where the hands of middle-aged men standing in a line had begun to turn reels. Right about opening time at 5:00. 

Almost always, it's like taking candy from a baby on stocking days. When you use a microlight rod. Drifting eggs naturally along the bottom. Even when the South Branch Raritan is full of water as it was today. (Though rather clear.) But you do miss hits. Many. And you lose trout almost at hand. (And it's easier to release them by a quick pinch at the hook rather than netting them.) So when you hookup and catch three or four in row--or even 25 or 30 sometimes--that's your reward after all the preceding effort. After all, Brenden and I had spent all day for six fish. No complaint, but effort should eventually culminate in success. 

Brenden did get another on the pink worm. I caught seven more on the eggs. You see the nice one in the photograph below.     

Near Tilcon Lake

Running high

High but clear

Lockatong Creek

South Branch Raritan

Musconetcong

 

Rainbow Trout Early Season High Water

Took a trip to the Pequest Trout Conservation Area. It's not as I remember from 13 years ago. I expected an easy trail to walk and a couple of deep holes with relatively slow water. I really didn't expect the river to be high and muddy yet, either, because the last time I fished in heavy rain, back in January, the North Branch remained in good shape. But I don't really know when the heavy rain began. When I awoke at 10:00 a.m. it was raining moderately at best, if that much, and it was easy to assume not much water reached the rivers yet. I went online and checked United States Geological Survey for the Pequest, too, and the water level had got pretty low since the last rain, having risen only one increment.

I'm looking at the graph now. It still shows that single increment, but after that, the level rises almost in a perfectly vertical line and it's quite high by now as I write at 6:35 shortly after getting home. I managed to get my casts in just in time.

The water had just enough clarity. Back in early March, I confronted much the same of the South Branch Raritan and didn't even bother trying. The thought of getting a winter rainbow to hit in water discolored and high. But now it's spring, and who knows, the water might be three degrees warmer. Any case, my feeling was altogether different. The photo I shot of the spot just after I released my only rainbow shows there was still some clarity. An hour later and the bottom somewhat visible in the photo wouldn't have been visible. And though I did find a spot that proved to be productive...where the water slows somewhat and has at least a little depth...most of the river moved very fast over shallows. I did try behind rocks breaking flow and behind trees in the water, but the only action came here where I took the photo. A nice rainbow of at least 14 inches got hooked there, too, but it leapt high and threw the hook. Using a jig with a barbless hook is a problem because the lead at the head means it can get thrown easier than a fly would get thrown. 

Both TCAs--Point Mountain and Pequest--gobble up jigs. I got snagged more than once at Point Mountain, though I never lost a jig, but today I lost three jigs. On the way home I stopped at the Sporting Life and bought four packs of four jigs each pack.

Did I get wet? A little. I guess last time, I put my rain jacket on over my neoprene waders, because water managed to run down my back and get the front of my thighs wet, too. I brought no gloves. Temperature was about 44. Pretty cold. But my wet hands never felt cold. I never felt cold anywhere, but especially during my drive home, after I took my waders off, where I got wet felt uncomfortable.  

Pequest

 

Georgia Dugouts, Glued, Other Boats Prompt Own Appreciation

My Caravelle 17 1/2-foot runabout, which a nor'easter did some damage to, and I used for my clam treading business out of Long Beach Island.

National Fisherman Very interesting article on Georgia boats, originally published in 1980. Same year I began treading clams commercially, and probably the same year I learned of the National Fisherman, reading a little of it. For commercial fishermen. Some business on the island had that magazine for sale, but I can't place it!

Boats are definitely "crafts" and I'd say there's certainly an art to creating the dugouts photographed in the article. Cypress again. I can't quite place that kind of tree, though I've heard of it from boyhood, but I might have seen some and taken note of them while in Florida or Louisiana. 

Nothing beats handcrafted boats, but even commercially molded boats are cool for what they're made of. My squareback canoe is rotomolded polyethylene plastic, and though I can never rid the impression altogether of that being cheap, it's durable stuff and shows no signs of aging after eight years. I did have to buy a plastic welding kit and fix where the bottom rubbed through on the keel, but that worked, so no problem. Flex Seal and the like does not bond to polyethylene. Virtually nothing does, and I judged it best to weld the material. (The weld sticks are polyethylene also.)

I worked on my Caravelle after the starboard side got punched through by a bulkhead, nor'easter winds pulling it out of its mooring, when the top and bottom constructions also separated. Used fiberglass strips and fill, then painted it. Very pleasurable. 

So I found the article's descriptions of epoxy use in boat building interesting. And the mention of composite plastic/wood construction--cool. When the words came to the part about making sure one is doing it right, I felt "aha" because I was thinking the same thing from the moment I read the caption about the glued boat. (I don't always read an article from first word to the last, though I usually do.) 

I still think the coolest thing is the dugout canoe at the article's head. How a boat that well proportioned was dug out of a tree trunk. Wow.

Shore Adventure 

Point Mountain Conservation Area Trout Outing

Penwell Mill

Even though catching a trout today wouldn't exactly count as a fall stocker caught during the winter season, I went after whatever I might catch in the Point Mountain Trout Conservation Area, where the Musconetcong River is open to fishing year round. I came with my four-and-a-half-foot St. Croix, the jig's barb broken and pressed down. I intend to graduate to fly fishing eventually but not yet. 

I followed a trail in that led to a likely spot. Though I judged it a little shallow, I had no doubt about the boulder-created eddies and holes dug out by the way currents must get directed during periods of high water. They must hold trout. Once, I thought I might have got hit--hard. It seemed too hard a pull to have been a momentary snag, given the speed I retrieved, but I felt it probably was a snag. 

Following a footpath downriver from Penwell Road involved parting the way between a lot of briars and bloodied hands. I fished at a couple of spots. One of them, on my way back, presented a nice seam along the opposite shore, so I made sure to fan cast that. It was all shallow fast water, but trout hide in pockets behind rocks. You really can't wade most of it, though. Rocks all over and slippery. Current strong. 

I got way downstream when I came to a rock-created weir extending from bank to bank. Naturally, depth was dug in below it. A series of cuts where flow gets the best of the river bottom. I might have got hit by a small trout. (There are small wild fish, of course.) Again, I couldn't really tell. Even so, the depth wasn't much, but enough for a few fish. 

I also cast out into the middle, hoping for any trout hiding behind rocks, and I got snagged. In the middle of the river where rocks studded the bottom everywhere and knee-deep or better current raced by. I put my camera bag on the ground, took off my vest, took my car keys out of my pocket and put them on my vest, and then I put my wading belt on, knowing that without cleats on my boots, slipping and getting wet was likely. And the rocks were slippery, but I found my boots just pliable enough to sort of grip bottom with my feet as I edge my way. All that for a three dollar jig, but it got adrenaline up a little.

Shallow Flow

Footpath recently traveled

Pequest

 

Morris County Brook Trout Stream

Inspired by John Garbarini's wild trout catches displayed on Facebook, and remembering what Gerry Dumont told me during a recent interview, I decided to try a native brook trout stream that careens down a mountain. 

First, I tried to access the brook from below, from near where it enters a river, but I found residential lawns bordering on it. So I parked in the lot of a county park, realizing I might have to hike well down below to avoid the warmwater influence of a dammed pond. (I caught a 14-inch largemouth on a spinnerbait in that pond some 10 years ago.) Of course, this time of year, who knows? Do brook trout swim upstream?

In any event, from what I've gathered, a quarter mile below from where the South Branch departs warmwater Budd Lake, the river is full of native brook trout protected by myriad springs that keep the water chilly. I figure the same must happen here, but how far down? In the photo above, you see I found a plunge pool I couldn't pass by. But it was maybe 300 yards below the dam. 

I went further downsteam and attempted to work a good-looking pool with a seven-and-a-half-foot 6X leader and two feet of tippet. A mess. Not nearly enough control. So I removed the leader and just tied on three feet of two-pound test. Gave me all the control I needed, until I came to another deep plunge pool. Put a BB split shot on and got the #12 Pheasant Tail down there. 

I found the rocks difficult to walk. They were everywhere. I had to climb a steep hill back towards the car. I hadn't much time and did not get very down below the dam. In the open-air Loree Chapel, I sat on a varnished bench that looked new, and I felt deeply moved by the cross in front of me. So I stayed put maybe five minutes. 

I came to resolve I hadn't expected to come to. Down among those rocks, I feared for my lower back, as traversing the terrain required putting it into positions that caused pain. And I never want to get hospitalized for it again as I did last summer. Besides, throw it out down among rocks and I might have a very trying time getting back to my car! 

Well, sitting on the bench I recognized I felt no more pain, my fishing had been successful insofar as its management was concerned. So the problem was less real than complicated by subjective fears. I'm no old man, not yet. I can do this. 

Skunked, though. Again. I see what's online, so I know something of what's possible in New Jersey. I'm proud of the fact that I've caught some natives and wild trout myself. Wild browns and one wild rainbow, besides a number of wild rainbows I caught in the mountains of Georgia.. Native brook trout, I've caught plenty of them in New Jersey, some in New Hampshire. But I'd like to make some outstanding catches, besides once catching four or five native New Jersey brookies as big as nine inches, and today I was trying to gauge how possible it might be, given that my elasticity is not that of a young man now, and I have only so many years. I catch a lot of largemouths. You know? Maybe stick to what I do best. 

But I'm not going to give up. Only a couple of years ago, I felt the same about fall and winter river trout. I had gone after them, had a few on, lost one at my feet, but just could not make any catches. Now I've got that fishing under control. At least with a spinning rod. (First step.)

Speaking of which, I noticed today that the South Branch at Long Valley is running reasonably clear and not very high. At High Bridge, it was somewhat high but on the clear side. My wife and I had taken a hike at Round Valley, our black Lab Loki and my camera along, got take out from Metropolitan Seafood, and driven to Gronsky's after eating at the main launch. I realized I should have taken my spinning rod with black maribou jig along. There's a good spot right above where we sat at a picnic table and ate ice cream. 

Brook's rocks and riffles.

Sort of pool I know from experience can hold a trout or two.

Look at the rocks.

 

You can see Trish in the lower middle.

4.23-Pound Rainbow

Georgia Yellow Perch Has New Jersey Beaten

Round Valley Reservoir

 Southern Fishing News A tie for the Georgia state record yellow perch at two pounds, nine ounces was recently made by angler Emerson Mulhull. The fish measured 16 inches long, and my first impression was that it had to be smaller than New Jersey's record. But I checked, and ours is two pounds, six ounces from Holiday Lake, 1989. Since I'm witness to Lake Hopatcong yellow perch 14 inches long, I figured they must grow considerably larger here. More than 16 inches. 

Put into perspective by the south. 

I'll be passing through Georgia, I hope, in two years from this past January, as I plan my Florida trip. I might spend some time in Georgia, although as yet, I don't know where to fish. I have caught fish in that state long ago, but way up in the mountains, when I discovered a small trout stream while hiking the Appalachian Trail. Caught wild rainbows. Good eight-, nine-inch fish.

I'm certainly interested in catching big largemouths in Florida. Brian Cronk wants to meet me down there, and in addition to fishing the Keys for big saltwater gamefish, try Rodman Reservoir for big largemoths. He's good at bass fishing, but we hope Florida has our big ones up here beat. 

I'm driving down. Brian will fly down and I'll meet him at the airport. Fred Matero is my inspiration for the driving and he would be great to meet at the airport, too. 

Ice Perch

Links to Bass Fishing History of the Northeast

I fished Quabbin Reservoir in Massachusetts with a Hampshire College economics professor. He caught a largemouth as big as mine, photographed here from Merrill Creek Reservoir in New Jersey, but never mailed me the photo I took of him with it. So I have no photos of New England bass. I quit Hampshire shortly after we fished.

onthewater.com 1 

onthewater.com 2 A couple of articles from On the Water, one on the history of largemouth bass in the Northeast, the other on the history in New England of black bass in general--largemouth and smallmouth. It wasn't until 1850 when Samuel Tisdale acquired 27 bass from Saratoga Lake in New York and put them in Flax Lake near Wareham, Massachusetts, that New England had any. 

Both of these articles are good reading for anyone interested in history. And any of us should at least know bass in the Northeast are not native, including here in New Jersey. 

I read James Alexander Henshall's The Book of the Black Bass years ago, but that book got published in 1881. The evidence On the Water presents is that the movement that amounted to making the black bass the nation's most beloved gamefish, which Henshall applauds, as I remember, was already well underway. 

I love the stories I read somewhere. Maybe in Henshall's book. Maybe elsewhere. About smallmouth bass loaded into stream locomotive water tanks in the Midwest and driven by rail to the Northeast, where, I believe, the trains would stop on bridges over rivers and throw bass into the water below. 

How many years have bass occupied the Raritan system? We probably will never know...

Nice One

Grouper Season Restricted

Red grouper from behind Big Pine Key

sportfishingmag.com From what I understand, the grouper fishing in Florida isn't what it used to be, so it's not surprising regulations have cropped up to try and rebuild the fishery for gag groupers. Charters have lost bookings due to the restrictions on seasonal closures, but there're more fish inshore and offshore.

I'm all for better fisheries in Florida, where my son, Matt, and I have caught some groupers. As I remember, my first was a 16-inch black grouper I caught from the bridge to No Name Key while fishing a jig at night. That was 2007 and an interesting memory to entertain. I certainly made sure not to miss out on trying for them after dark as well much of the days we spent during a week there. The fish fought as if I had hooked a bull. A 16-inch fish. Almost as hard as a tog fights. Tog you have to horse away from rocks. I remember hooking another grouper, I believed, which I lost. Had to have been four pounds, I figured. 

Matt caught a grouper of unknown kind while trolling from a sailboat in the Keys. He was on a Boy Scouts adventure. Estimated the fish at seven pounds. The two of us are very interested in the grouper family of fishes, although Matt is even more interested in catching a mutton snapper. 

I'd rather catch a keeper grouper. My biggest red grouper during our 2020 trip, 19 inches, missed the legal mark by an inch. They all fight very hard.

Grouper  I caught at Ocracoke NC, possibly a gag grouper.

Matt's black grouper trolled in Bahia Honda.

Not sure which species, but feel free to comment, if you know. We had been catching snappers under legal size and other small fish on shrimp. I got the idea of trying cut bait, which a few grunts supplied. Right away we started catching small groupers like this one.  

NJ Trout Stocking Meeting Thursday

New Jersey Fish & Wildlife Thursday, March 7th, 7:00 PM online. Everyone invited. I've never attended because I've been busy. Thursday at 7 I'll be on the job at the supermarket, but I want to give voice to my appreciation. Whatever some say about New Jersey's trout stocking program, for state officials to invite anglers to meet about the issues is as it should be, I think. 

I know a lot of people wonder if the state will ever stock browns again. I never hear about brookies, because I think everyone understands that with the (relatively) new legislation enforcing catch and release in the interest of preserving native populations, we can let stocker brookies go. I've heard no one protest that new legislation. It seems understood we're doing the best for the State Fish.

I also hear that feeding the rainbows at Pequest Hatchery is becoming onerously expensive. Maybe the price of a trout stamp will have to rise, I don't know, but if costs are becoming too much to meet, what else can be done? 

Any event, like so many others, I enjoy fishing stocked trout in the spring. When I'm doing it, it feels as natural as the stream itself. They're raised in spring water, after all, and none of our public waters is outfitted with feeders. They acclimate pretty quickly. I keep in mind the original trout stockings of the 19th century. The thought of "introducing" trout, essentially an idea in keeping with nature. True, in many streams they won't last until July, but even there, they're introduced for a couple of prime months. 

New Jersey Trout Fishing   

Removal of Musconetcong River Warren Glen Dam

Free flowing Musconetcong River

musconetcong.org   Musconetcong Watershed Association  I don't have a date as to when the project is slated to get physically done, but I got the written press release from the Musconetcong Watershed Association, which has no link to it, but informs us about funding. Quoted below is information about the check itself copied from that release. The two links I have provided for you will tell you more about the Warren Glen Dam and the removal of it coming, as well as about other dam removals the Musconetcong Watershed Association shares critical responsibility for. 

"To advance this project, MWA will present NJDEP with a check for $210,000 on Thursday, February 29, 2024, from 11 am to 12 pm at the MWA River Resource Center, 10 Maple Avenue, Asbury, NJ 08802. MWA received this nationally appropriated funding from the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service for preliminary studies needed to remove the dam, and coordinated efforts with New Jersey Fish and Wildlife, a partial dam owner, to strategize the removal of the dam. These funds will be used to finish an engineering report critical to the execution of the project.

The event will feature remarks from NJDEP Commissioner Shawn LaTourette, MWA President Richard Cotton and MWA Executive Director Tom Dallessio, followed by a presentation of the $210,000 check to NJDEP, symbolizing the mutual commitment to this crucial environmental restoration effort. Attendees are also invited to join a tour of the historic Asbury Mill and Musconetcong Island Park, showcasing the direct benefits of the project to the community and environment," says the Musconetcong Watershed Association.

It's been an exciting decade and some additional years, regarding all of the dam removals and stream restorations. I've done my best through these years to keep abreast of and report on the issues not only in the blog, but for different news outlets, including the New Jersey Herald, Central New Jersey News, and USA Today. I know the work I've done is not as much as some have expressed desire of me to do, but first and foremost I can say I'm proud of the work they and others have done. To be associated with these dam removals at all is a good thing.  

Burnt Mills Dam Removal

Delmarva Fishing Report Nostalgia

Matt Shark Fishes Ocracoke

fishtalkmag.com  Delmarva reports. Nostalgic for me, because I've been riding down that peninsula to Virginia Beach and on south to the Outer Banks since I was eight-years-old, at least until 2018. You never know if you're ever going back, when your son has moved to the West Coast. BUT...once I retire, I can just drive down there. lol. 

It is 13 hours to Ocracoke. Including the wait for a ferry, which can be an hour, and the ferry ride is at least 45 minutes. It is a long way down the beach from Kitty Hawk. And at Ocracoke, that's where the buck stops. The Outer Banks are only about halfway done at that point, but no more highway or roadways exist to take you further south, although there are boats to various island sections. 

But about Delmarva, I have fished the Susquehanna Flats, which these reports call "Way North." The other day, I wrote about being a member of Mercer County Bassmasters. I remember that for our Spruce Run tournament, we stayed at the Sunset Motel, but I have no more memory of that. It is interesting, though, that many decades later, I met a man some 10 years younger than me, a popular New Jersey poet, BJ Ward, lauded with many honors, who had worked as a waiter at the Sunset Motel's restaurant. I told him about that, but if he was awed--as I was--it stayed hidden. He autographed a copy of one of his books for me, joking about how, if you change the "a" in waiter, the word is "writer." One of Ward's books, Gravedigger's Birthday, is endorsed by Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Stephen Dunn. Another greatly awarded poet, Stephen Dobyns, also endorsed the book. 

Another decade and some years passed, and BJ and I communicated on Facebook Messenger about pike fishing...at Spruce Run Reservoir. He was going with his son? Or was it a friend?

In any event, it's one of those cosmic connections that keep repeating themselves. Trying to get a message through. We think we think in the head. But something else thinks us. 

But here's what I was getting at. Mercer County Bassmasters not only held a tournament on the Susquehanna Flats; it was the most memorable tournament for me. I might have caught a smallmouth bass. I know one was caught. The water is big. Wide. Bay-like indeed. Biggest bass caught was an even four pounds, but there were some others. We stayed at a motel, and I distinctly remember playing cards. 

Amazes me how long ago that was. Going on 50 years. And to have living memory from events that long ago. I had passed that region while traveling south to Washington DC a number of times. Havre de Grace. 

I kind of like having a Delmarva fishing report I can find online. 

Big One

Santee-Cooper Bass Tournament

bassfan.com Major League Bass Pro Tour is holding a tournament on South Carolina's Santee-Cooper Lakes from this past Tuesday through Sunday. "It'll still be cold..." I read, and a lot of rain has fallen, possibly rendering some of the lake unfishable, though pre-spawn tactics are anticipated, some of the bass to be caught in the trees. Santee-Cooper Lakes are "full of cypress trees." Click on the link if you care to read an informative article about the event.

Cypress trees must be cool to see. I never forget the first time I drove past the lakes on the way to Florida in 1984. When you're only 23, age 18 seems a lifetime ago. At 18, I gave up on fishing bass tournaments. I began fishing B.A.S.S chapter tournaments with the Mercer County Bassmasters when I was 16 and could still dream of becoming a tournament pro. No pie in the sky. I took trophies from guys twice my age and older. Next to me, the youngest club member was 23. He proved to be the best at the game, too.  

I had a chance and Tim had my back better than anyone else did. The guy who was 23. But I was also writing about fishing for magazines...and reading novels. You know what happens next. A conversion happens and the ambition changes. I wanted to become a novelist. 

But when I saw the sign identifying Santee-Cooper when I was 23, even though I was infinitely wiser than I had been at 18 when I fished my last tournament on the Salem Canal, Cumberland County, New Jersey, I felt a rush of recognition like none other the whole way down to Grant, Florida. I read Bassmaster Magazine religiously during my teens. Santee-Cooper was like a household name to me. So to actually pass by the lake, that was quite the rush.

I know. What is a 16-year-old doing with a bunch of older bass fishermen? Drinking beer in strip clubs, at that? Those were the 1970's. A free world. I looked 23 anyhow. Talked like it, too. And placed in bass tournaments. Won one of them.    

Wading to Where I Expected Trout

I caught the trout where I expected to catch one. For months, I've thought of going to Neshanic and making my way downstream. There's a spot I know about from way back. All this time, I've imagined finding trout there.

I didn't expect to go to Neshanic today. There's another stocking point from where I would have walked well upstream. With the snow on the ground, though, I didn't find any parking. 

Beginning elsewhere, however, was an interesting exercise I decided upon as I drove from Bedminster. A spot where I've never got skunked. Today, I waded out, got into position, and then I noticed the brown of flood detritus and bare trees looked distinctly rust-colored in the sun. That was really quite unexpected and it surprised me, my emotional response lowering my anticipations even deeper into realism, everything about the trout seemingly brought low as if none held in the currents now. The sap of life gone like a rusted car body, and I got not a tap. 

Then I drove from there to Neshanic, where the water above the white bridge is very interesting, but nothing hit. Another guy came down. We talked for a few minutes, and then he took position a hundred feet above me. 

I started wading downstream. 

My lower back has been giving me trouble today, and it wasn't entirely comfortable out there for that reason. Temperature got up to at least 39, and I never felt cold. Not my bare hands, either, except for my left hand after I released a sucker I had snagged. Never troubled with gloves. It did take effort wading my way downstream, but it was a pleasurable way to release mere convenience. I cast as I went, aware that maybe there'd be a trout my black maribou jig would cross paths with. It wasn't until I got a cast right on the spot where I expected trout, that I got hit, and I played the fish patiently. It put up a good fight on my four-foot, six-inch St. Croix ultralight, but was only about 15 inches. A couple of casts later, I hooked another, but it got off. 

I might have got a foot or two of better reach with a five-and-a-half-foot ultralight, and I have one by Shimano, and another I built from a St. Croix blank, but my casts pretty much got where I wanted them to go. I was aware they were a little short sometimes. I like that little rod, though. The fight of the sucker I snagged in the back was a lot of fun. I thought I had a smallmouth. 

It wasn't, I believe, true that I "had" to do some trekking to catch trout. I know people today suspect everyone is lying, but the guy I spoke to seemed an aboveboard character. I decided to come back his way to tell him of my catch. He also told me of his!

"It was only five minutes after you headed down that way," he said. "It was 18 inches. I put it back."

"Good to know there's some fish."

Told me he caught it on a worm. Another reason I don't believe he lied.

There's a line you cross between the online world and the real world. But what is the online "world"? Everything that has become routine within its parameters. This post is part of it, but it does point to what lies beyond, and that's a world very similar to the world I lived out during the 1970's. A world in which I felt free, except when I was in school. I got beyond school every day, fishing, and otherwise. A world exists that the online cannot capture. It's always moving. It can't be caught. It can only be lived.   

January a Year Ago

 

Califon Dam Removals and River Restoration

 

Sluiceway down below the dam in the town of Califon. This spot is now posted. According to Dumont, it "always holds fish." My son and I failed to catch any on that March day I photographed Matt trying. We tried and tried. Interestingly, sunlight singled him out when I shot the photo, so he was overexposed. He alone, which is kind of cool, even though it destroyed the photograph for any large print use. You can tell because his face and hands are grey. I compensated by reducing highlights in Lightroom, but the overexposure was too much.

I'm writing an article for The Fisherman about the South Branch Raritan River. Should be published in June. I interviewed one of the many guides working for South Branch Outfitters, Gerry Dumont, gathering information about the river. I always collect a lot more than I can use, which got me thinking this time: I can use some of it for my blog. Information I can't use for the magazine. I felt inspired by what I will relate to you as too important not to divulge. 

According to Dumont, "We're gonna have a little bit more trout water--what I consider trout water--by, not this trout season, but the following one. We're expecting in June, at least the dam above the shop, I'm pretty sure that's coming out this summer. And we're hoping that the other dam below the shop--the big dam in town--that's planned to be coming out, too, and they're going to restore, it's got to be close to two miles of river. That will lower the water temperature in the (Ken Lockwood) Gorge three or four degrees in the summertime." 

So that's breaking news from a primary source. Stuff online about dam removal in Califon is very little and requires--besides what I screenshot, below--passing a paywall.

As I began to say in the caption to the photo above, we've lost some water between the town and Hoffman's Crossing Road just above the beginning of Ken Lockwood Gorge. As Dumont put it, "Some areas are now not able to be fished. With COVID, there was a lot of problems. Some places got posted." And he added, "Things happen, things get closed," but with the dam removals and the restoration, water worth respecting will become available. We don't expect another mass exodus into the outdoors as COVID inspired, so we can probably keep the newly flush riverscape.

With lower water temperatures and improved habitat brought about by river restoration, it's easy to imagine that the numbers of benthic organisms and their insect hatches will improve, and that, naturally, so will the wild and native trout population.    

(newjerseyhills.com)

Califon

Sedge Island for Youngsters--Excellent Adventure

NJ Fish & Wildlife 

NJ Fish & Wildlife (Two links to separate dates)

Every year, I post about the Sedge Island experience for youngsters grades 7 through 12. On an island in Barnegat Bay behind Island Beach, they stay in rooms in a research facility. Click on the links to get an idea of the deep educational value New Jersey Fish & Wildlife offers students. 

When my son did Sedge Island two consecutive years, the program began with kids who had finished 6th grade. I guess that's what they mean by 7th grade. (After 8th grade, Matt went on a Boy Scout sailing adventure in the Florida Keys.) For Matt and the others with him from throughout the state who did Sedge Island, it wasn't all science and research. They fished blues, and I believe fluke and some other species. They ocean kayaked. They treaded clams, and judging from what he told me, the clamming was pretty good. 

Currently, youngsters from grade 7 to 9 get to explore, in addition to the biological life of the bay, Barnegat Bay history, and that's interesting to me. I read The Bayman by Merce Ridgeway, which goes into Barnegat Bay history in depth. Ridgeway was a clam raker, coming from a family long in the tradition. Treaders are the new wave--or were. I haven't heard of anyone treading NJ bays commercially since 1993, but I have heard that the clams are coming back.

I think of the hard clam as the bellwether for the decline of the ecological health of a bay. Someone on Facebook pointed out to me recently, however, that the clams were never lost altogether in Great Bay, because the volume of transfer between inshore and marine brine flowing through Great Egg Inlet is so much the greater than in the bays behind Long Beach Island. Behind the island, most or all of the eel grass was lost to excess nitrogen and phosphorus leached into the water. Clams depend on eel grass, because once they hatch from eggs, they swim freely before attaching themselves to that grass until they mature enough to fall off and take hold on bay bottom. 

Let's hope the best for the bays, and for the youngsters who get to experience Barnegat Bay firsthand. It's truly an excellent adventure for them.

When We Shelled It Out 

Roscoe New York Trout Town USA

roscoeny.com Outdoor writer Jim Stabile sent me information on the Two-Headed Trout Dinner event at Roscoe, New York, in April. "Trout Town USA." That immediately made me think of my wife, because I had--fairly recently--spoken to her about the possibility of a future trip up there. I knew nothing of the dinner that celebrates the opening of fly fishing season. I had thought of the other attractions the town offers--little shops and restaurants--that might appeal to her. The dinner incorporates businesses in town, so there's more to it than trout fishing. Even so, in the final analysis, it's almost pointless for me to pitch the dinner as an event to attend, although she might like the town as a Bed & Breakfast destination.  

More than a decade ago, my son and I visited Roscoe, staying at a campground at town's edge. We actually camped beside the Beaverkill. That's where our allotted space happened to be located. It was August, and our main plan was to fish Pepacton Reservoir for smallmouths. The owner of the campground persuaded us to try for big brown trout, too, lending us a couple of rods rigged with color-coded weighted line and silver trolling spoons. We also rented the rowboat from him.

We caught no trout, but my son did catch a little smallmouth, and I caught a channel cat that looked like a trout. We jigged both of the fish, and many rock bass, besides. The water is so clear that the catfish was almost white, except for black spots. 

We had time to fly fish the Delaware River East Branch after lunch, catching nothing. We also checked out the confluence of the Beaverkill and Willowemoc, noticing some persistent rises, but the water felt about 70 degrees to me. Too warm to catch and release trout, so we didn't fish there. The West Branch was cold. 

What I remember best of all is getting up before first light the first morning, feeling how fresh the 48-degree air felt in August, building a fire, boiling water, making coffee and getting started on it, all before my son awoke. That might have been the best coffee I've ever had.

Roscoe Trip