There's never a time I don't escape the lethal routine when I go fishing, despite the influence of the former mention on my initial attitude--the resistance to going I always exert better will over to get out there. I say lethal routine, because making a living will only kill you, if you don't counter-act the stress by life-affirming activities like fishing. And anything outdoors is good for your health. A proven medical fact.
What stress? I question it, too, Much of my typical work day is free of it. So I can imagine people out there who experience little or no work stress. Besides, most of my "work stress" is really post traumatic stress. That's not normal stress. I'm like a rescue dog. But when I get out and fish, I get over any of that altogether.
I drove west on Interstate 78 when Brian Peterson from work messaged me. He and his daughter Kinsey needed to be reminded of the meeting point, so I exited at West Portal/Pattenburg, pulling into a convenience store lot, taking note of the sign posted to a telephone pole--Live Bait. (Well we didn't need any more than Brian bought, I figured. Two dozen nightcrawlers, I had suggested.)
I told him we'd meet at the green space between the Free Bridge and U.S. Highway 22 (Phillipsburg). For me, just to think "green space" feels refreshing. Even though Phillipsburg is a city, the bank along the river is wild. I got there some five minutes before they did, not surprised that people's access to open space here has restrictions now. Some 17 years ago, I fished with my son here on multiple occasions. I believe even in the middle of the night with live eels for stripers. I know others fished the stretch at night. I remember even more clearly at present that we did. I'm all but certain Matt and I fished there after midnight. Free parking. No time restrictions. As you can see in the second photo below by clicking on it to expand it, the 30-minute free parking is suggested for activities other than accessing the river. It's like politicians do not want you to be healthy.
There's no money in being healthy.
Well, as we were finishing up our preparations at our cars parked in 30-minute slots, cops drove by. By the time the police unit faced us on its way back out, we walked towards the river entry, carrying rods. Since they did not stop to tell us we were improperly parked, as the sign might be interpreted, I figure they were OK with it, anyhow.
We fished 25 minutes. We lost a few Yum Dingers. Nice depth and the bass have cover down there for sure. Brian caught one, a smallmouth.
He knew of a spot on the Pennsy side. Since our licenses were good on either side of the river, (Brian lives in PA), I looked forward to exploring.
Brian's spot is good water for sure. A long seam between rapids and slow water, a huge eddy, good depth. I had one bass on a Yum Dinger that got off, and I missed two whacks to a Ned Rig. I felt befuddled, because, clearly, bass would stage among those rocks beneath that eddying current. I'm sure they were there, and I told Brian as much.
I began this post talking about the outdoors and health. You're reading Litton's Fishing Lines, so you probably get out to fish. Catching a few may only better that health. As I told Brian, there's an encompassing approach to the river's bass:
These bass see dozens of lures, but it's good to start with one you can fish fast, covering water,
and though for me, that was a Yum Dinger when it could have been a jerkbait perhaps with better results, smallmouths will swim at least a few yards to grab a Dinger dropping by, and besides, you can retrieve it pretty quickly. My first bass hit it as I reeled fast to cast it again. Yes, I had a Rapala on my mind from the very start when I threw that Yum Dinger. Oh, well.
It's a good idea to switch out search baits, though it's a losing game.
Because the bass will see what you're throwing and only become less interested in that offering. Something else might jog a reaction, but then it, too, will get ignored, and so on...
Then you need to slow down, fish subtly to tempt fish that would be turned off by the noise of search baits.
Fishing a Yum Dinger by twitching it lightly in the depths, for example, though that wasn't working.
Ultimately a nightcrawler might out-fish anything else.
The bass were certainly there in this second area we fished, but since they've seen just about every kind of lure we could offer, drifting a live nightcrawler through the currents might have worked.
Brian had got his fishing license at Dick's, which had no live bait. I said, "Check your phone for nightcrawlers along Route 611."
Minutes later, we headed for a convenience store 3.7 miles away.
"I know a boat launch across the street from a cement factory," Brian said.
We cast Yum Dingers and let the swift current carry them well downstream, but nothing hit in the visibly shallow water of three or four feet. I believed if any bass staged in that current, they'd grab a Dinger. We soon left.
The next spot was a park where Brian told me the Belvidere Free Bridge was right around the corner. We didn't see an easy way in, so we crossed that bridge in hopes that the green space my son and I enjoyed there about 17 years ago is still open.
It is. We parked--freely--as I excitedly expressed the fact that I had caught a bass and a little striper. Privately, I thought, "A bass. I would hope for at least a few." When Matt and I fished down below in Phillipsburg years ago, I think we caught seven of them.
We fished nightcrawlers. Something did pull most of one of mine from my hook, but other than that, go figure. Obviously, fishing pressure. Brian had a few bites from something. Kinsey reported nothing.
And...my channel catfish. Nice fish. Twenty-two inches long. Good fight.
We had relaxed and we settled in. You know you've reached that point of letting all the stress go, when you no longer feel anxious to try what's next; when you openly accept all you're doing from now and until you go home. That's a real pleasure, fish or not. After all, you look at the quality of the spot and you know fish could be around. You see that carp or whatever makes a mess of the surface. Kinsey felt awed at seeing, I think, two big fish make a ruckus.
The weather was perfect. A setting sun. Temperature warm.
You feel healthy--directly--and have no doubt it's good for you in the long term.
A boat launch existed nearby. As we walked out, I spoke to someone I had seen launch.
"I didn't catch a single smallmouth bass," he said.
I told him about my catfish.
"There was a guy here mid-day," he said, "Caught a 10-pounder."
I don't target channel catfish, but I might. I'd enjoy catching a 10-pounder on a light rod.
The Second Spot
Belvidere
Belvidere
