Sunday, July 31, 2016

July 27, 2016 – Fluke, Where is Your Father (or Mother)? - Nothing but Shorts from the Ocean County Sods

A nice way to start the morning.




















The boy and I took a mini-vacation to visit my parents at the beach on Tuesday and Wednesday.  It was supposed to be a swim, ice cream, arcade, ride or two type of trip, and it was, but you know I had to toss a couple rods in the back, along with some bucktails and Gulp.  We spent Tuesday playing at the beach with Gram and Pop, but after a fun night in town, I got up before sunrise on Wednesday morning and drove to some sod banks on Barnegat Bay.  I wasn’t expecting much, as the reports have been bad from my dad and others, but I had to wet a line for a few stolen hours.

Fluke, where is your father?
As a surf fisherman, I have (perhaps selfishly?) been disappointed with all the dredging and sand pumping that has been happening.  All the striper-holding groins and jetties in Monmouth County are gone, Ocean County had been doing the work even before Sandy, and maybe it’s necessary from an economic standpoint, but I wonder if those multimillion dollar houses need to be there to begin with, and, if so, should public dollars be spent insuring their future when a lot of rich folks fancy those beaches their private playgrounds.  I have seen numerous illegal “No Trespassing” postings in places like Deal, for example, and access and parking on the north end of LBI is just as bad (Yeah, I'm talking about you Loveladies....).  

Homeowners weren’t granting easements to the Army Corp of Engineers because they refused to grant public access in return for “improving” their beachfronts.  To add insult to injury, now all the equipment being used, from dredges, to 5 foot diameter piping that is 50 feet long, to old rusted mooring buoys, all that stuff is parked right off the sods in one of the few convenient public access points, one I have fished quite a bit with a lot of success, from bass to fluke to weakies to chopper blues depending on the season.  With all that ugly nonsense in the water right in front of some prime public access, it took a lot more walking and bushwhacking to get to open beach and sod.  I started the morning walking the dog over some rough bottom, hoping that some small bass or at least cocktail blues had noticed all the bait in the water.  I saw snapper blues, herring, minnows, and rainfish with nothing on them but a very persistent sea turtle. 

One of half a dozen shorties on bucktail and Gulp.




















When I switched to a bucktail and Gulp, I did pick up about 6 very short fluke, the largest being just about 16 inches.  Still, I was happy to hook a few fish as the boy slept back at the house (or was making Gram learn all the details of Pokemon or something).  I broke a rod setting the hook on a 12 inch fluke, so I was glad I tossed a second set up in the car.  I was not really upset, as it was an old Penn that had served me well for 15 years or more, and was probably under 75 bucks new.  Plus, it gives me an excuse to find another 7’6” cork-wrapped stick to toss off the sods next summer without violating my self-imposed moratorium on unnecessary fishing purchases….  Witnessing a nice sunrise, family time, father-son time, catching a few shorts, and taking a good walk on a deserted sodbank, just me and the flies and ticks, things could have been worse.  I am hoping the spike weakfish give me a little action in between these dog days and waiting for the bass to return.  Perhaps if they stop dredging and pumping sand for a bit, those bass will come close enough to shore this fall for me to reach a few!

A very sleepy bay in late July.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

July 19, 2016 – Storms They Giveth and Storms They Taketh Away (or Vice Versa) – Salvaging the Day with Some Trout on the Spinning Rod

Some beautiful wild browns made the morning a memorable one




















I had been looking forward to an inshore fluke charter with the Ward party, who were on vacation in Ocean City this week and had the Adam Bomb booked for the day.  Winds had been bad for a few days, and then thunderstorms moved into the area.  The Tuesday forecast looked okay for a while, but the captain called Ward late in the day and cancelled when conditions changed and it looked like 5 foot seas in a strong North wind—and bad to mediocre fluking all season to begin with.  With his excited nephew onboard, Wardman was disappointed, as I was, but also relieved that he didn’t have to take a young bull out in snot and possibly put him off inshore fishing for a long, long time!  As Ward knows, having fished with me on his boat for 10 or 15 years, I am certainly more at home waist deep in the surf than 30 miles offshore, so I was okay with it too, I suppose.  Nothing worse than getting beat up for 8 hours for very little payoff, so Adam did us a favor, no doubt.  Occupied putting the boy to bed, I didn’t get word, however, until about 8 PM, so I was already packed up for a 3:45 AM departure to Cape May.  I knew I was not going to go to work, but I wasn’t at all sure what to do now!  I could meet my old man in LBI and fish the bay, I could set up and catch kingies in the surf in South Jersey, squint at tricos, or I could just throw a spinning rod and some plugs in the Subaru and wet wade the early morning bite.  Guess what I did?


Stained and normal flows for this time of July.
The storms gave all the streams in my area a little color, I bet, but in looking at the gages not many creeks looked like they spiked enough to make a real difference.  A couple in the Lehigh Valley looked to be normal for this time of the year, on top of getting a bit of rain, so I took a gamble that they would be cool enough, at least from 5 to 9 AM, so I went to bed with a rough destination, at least.  There was some early morning fog and mist as I made my way to the creek, but the air temps were comfortable enough that I got a chill with the first steps I took in the 67 degree water.  I had temps as low as 66 and as high as 68, but nothing over 70 degrees, and I mostly stuck to fast moving pocket water and downstream of a cold tributary, but 68 was why I quit before 10 AM and enjoyed the rest of the day with my family chasing Pokémon with our phones at the Elmwood Park Zoo…

One or two even before sunrise.
I hooked a nice wild brown on a CD 5 on my third cast, at least 15 minutes before official sunrise.  He jumped 5 times or more!  All the browns I caught today were ridiculously acrobatic!  One at least 13 inches long that escaped his mug shot was the most memorable on a day of memorable trout.  I hooked him in a small, fast and deep pocket, and he shot up so high, so many times that he landed on an exposed rock at my feet at one point.  Needless to say, I was struggling to keep him tight, but I landed him eventually.  Then after all that nonsense, I brought him to hand (I forgot the net today with my quick packing job) and, of all times, the trebles decided to let go.  Someday I will post all my botched photos: my arm, my empty wet hand, an empty net, impenetrable fog, tails with the rest of the fish in the water, or just the splash (out of focus) which is always awesome.

One of two beefy rainbows.




















That was okay, though, because I landed several nice fish and tangled with double that amount.  I was trying to count on the way home, and then determine by the camera shots I had, and I arrived at 11 trout to hand—two brookies, two bruiser holdover bows, and the rest wild browns—an equal number, mostly little browns, shook off after short fights and hyperactive leaping, often towards me, which is not the easiest to manage sometimes yet is definitely exciting!

Many smaller wild browns like this got long distance releases...
I worked a quarter mile stretch of pocket water before I ran into a pair of minks having fun in the sun and water.  I took a short video trying to capture the festivities and managed to capture footage of one swimming at me, turning tail, and heading back to cover in a pile of streamside rocks.  I actually saw a third one across the creek from me as I made my way back towards my parking spot.  There were also at least 6 mergansers swimming in formation, so it’s a wonder any fish survive this stretch!  All it needs is a couple blue herons too.





As I said, the browns were in great shape, and the bows I caught were incredibly fat, strong and healthy, but I knew it was time to quit when a little brookie at the mouth of a small feeder struggled a minute to recover after a short battle.  A bigger, beautifully colored brook trout who probably outgrew the available food in the feeder creek, hit about 15 minutes later at the base of a plunge, his nose nearly in the shallow white water. He was a beauty, and shot back to his cold refuge, but 68 degrees has to be tough for a brookie.

A colored-up brookie




















Around 9 AM, with about 3.5 hours of fishing, I hoofed it back to the ‘Ru, hoping to be on the road before 10 AM.  But I had to stop at a favorite log jam under a cool, shaded bridge.  I tossed the CD 5 into the mess of sticks and logs and dark water, and a brute of a bow violently hit the plug.  No jumping for this slob, who was as wide as a smallmouth bass, but he bulldogged and tried to get into all the obstacles he could before I got my hand under him for a photo.  The pic below is not distorted; he was that wide and fat.  I would estimate he was only 15 inches long, but the rest of his dimensions were very impressive.  What a way to end a great morning, especially after rebounding from the disappointing change of plans and only a tertiary pass at preparation compared to my usual pre-game machinations!

As wide as a smallmouth!





















Saturday, July 16, 2016

Deep Thoughts #4 – Something for the Dog Days of Summer: The Further Adventures of a Fishing Consumer.

It takes some work to be a good consumer.
Over the past three weeks, perhaps because my trout fishing has trickled liked the creeks and rivers and I have not switched gears to the Jersey Shore during these excessive heat warnings and South winds, I have put the customer service of three companies to the test; and while two of them did exceptionally well, they all did okay this time.  Too many consumers feel funny returning something to the store, but if no one calls out companies on faulty products or bad dinners or botched take-out orders, then where is the incentive for businesses to change?  My wife takes things back with no shame, and I admire her for it.  If expensive, Whole Foods chicken is packaged and supposed to be good to sell until July 17, and it smells bad in our fridge on July 15, then it should go back, not in the trash for the raccoons to find after distributing the packaging all over our lawn.  The return trip and the wait in line at customer service, not to mention filing away receipts, are an inconvenience, sure, and we all lead busy lives, but someone has to do it, and I am glad my wife does—and not just because it saves us money.  She has a 10 dollar gift card waiting at the local taco place because they forgot to put salsa (on a taco, god forbid!) which she didn’t discover until she got home.  On the menu she brought home for me, the first ingredient listed for the particular taco she ordered was, you guessed it, “black bean and corn salsa.”  She really just called to let the manager know that food was going out incorrectly, but I will help her eat 10 bucks worth of taco if they are buying and she’s sharing… 

25 years!
In May of this year, I shared that my 8’3” 3wt rod broke under pretty normal fishing circumstances.  I also shared that I had a debate on a fly fishing forum about returning LL Bean waders several times, in effect holding them to their 100% Satisfaction promise, which to me is a personal metric not one dictated by how long someone else thinks a pair of waders or, in this case, wading boots should last (3 years, even for 500 dollar Simms, seems to be okay for some guys based on several posts I read, but that does not, pardon me, fly with this guy).  Satisfaction is inherently a personal thing, no?  I have also talked about Rapala pretty often, often enough, perhaps, that you are tired of hearing about it.  Ward sends me links to cheap lots on eBay, while I search for the fitting replacement that will end my dependence.  Sure, I could chunk streamers in high water, but I still like a spinning rod from time to time, and I feel that a spinning rod is the right tool for chucking meat.  If you are throwing a 4 inch, articulated streamer made of all synthetic materials, well, you may not really be fly fishing anymore and, therefore, don’t hate my short rod game and my hard baits :)  

So, let’s start with LL Bean, for whom I am a loyal customer, due in no small part to the 100% Satisfaction motto, (mostly) quality products, and free shipping.  Compared to REI and Orvis and EMS, their outdoor clothing is priced well and holds up well too.  I have had bad products, though, and I have returned them with no questions asked.  With a receipt, I have received an exchange or full purchase refund several times over the years.  With no receipt, I have been given store credit or exchanges.  Yes, the retail prices no doubt make allowances for free shipping and for the loss generated by such a generous return policy, but most consumers don’t take advantage of the warranty, so I think they are doing okay up there in Freeport, ME and a mall near you.  

100% Satisfaction
I bought a pair of wading boots from Beans mainly because they were exceptionally comfortable and were the first generation of sticky rubber and limited seams boots designed to curtail the spread of invasive organisms (even came with a brush that I sometimes hear bouncing around in the back of the ‘Ru).  Well, the first pair lasted half a season before the drain-hole grommets popped out and both sets of laces broke.  The studs, which added 30 dollars to the price of the boots, were next to go.  Furthermore, the boots never, ever fully dried, so I am not sure how that would have helped curtail any water-borne organisms.  I returned the boots, but because they were so damn comfortable, I agreed to exchange for the second generation of the same boots (on sale, which at LL Bean usually means not long for the shelves, on borrowed time, you dig?).  This second pair came apart at the soles after 2 seasons of being in the rotation but not my only wading boot.  I tried Shoe Goo for a month, but that too did not hold up in water for too long.  LL Bean no longer sells these boots, which from my long experience with the company means I was not alone in my complaints about the product.  If something is causing the company to lose money and, perhaps, face, it tends to remove them from circulation, which is what should happen, although plenty of wrong color choices, faulty thread counts, and leaky seamless wader designs still bring in some money through the bargain outlets, virtual and brick-and-mortar; so, again, I think they are doing okay in Freeport.

A refreshingly sassy and very competent sales person at a retail store took my return of an online purchase for a full refund, no questions asked, saving me the return shipping costs (and I bought a pair of pants on sale), and the replacement Korkers boots I bought from LL Bean.com, which will also be honored by the 100% satisfaction promise, mind you, were delivered in two days, which did not inconvenience my fishing time in the least (the store in KOP is just minutes from Valley, you see).  Did I like that I got lemon boots?  No?  Do I like the Korkers?  Yes, so far.  Will I continue to buy gear from LL Bean.  Mos def, yo.  Mos def.

Another good one.
On to Cabela’s, who also scored high this month.  I thought the rod I broke was out of warranty, because my research online had the current warranty at 1 year.  However, another reason that I love my wife is that she is organized.  She had stowed the warranty card for said rod with other important paperwork which, after a short search and recovery, revealed that the rod had a 25 year warranty!  Yay, you know?  The rod broke at the tip during a normal backcast situation and was not stepped on, run over, or slammed in the hatch of the Subaru.  I packed the rod in the original tube and packaging in which it was delivered, attached a short note, the warranty card, and the receipt, and in less than 2 weeks I received a shipping notice in my email informing me that I should expect a replacement in the mail by a certain date.  I may have mentioned that I really liked this rod, a LSi in a unique length well suited to dry fly and midges on small creeks, and I was sad that I broke it, especially when I had to land a 20 inch wild brown on my 6’ 6” 3 wt at Valley last month, so imagine how happy I was to receive the rod in the mail, the latest version with better guides to boot and retailing for about 200 bucks (not what I paid).  Now if it would just cool off and rain, I could fish with it…  Will I buy another Cabela’s rod?  Yep.  I was honest about my treatment of the product, and the service folks could clearly see how that the break involved no foul play, I suppose, so I had two good customer service experiences in a short time.  Yay, you know?

The response is softening.
Finally, we come to Normark/Rapala, my sometimes nemesis.   I love how effective the Countdown plugs in sizes 1 to 5 are for trout, but I hate that they break way too often under normal fishing circumstances, sometimes right out of the box.  The company and fishermen differ with what constitutes normal conditions, I believe, as evidenced by the verbiage of a previous letter I photographed and saved, but the message is softening (so start sending them more, dammit!).  This time I packed up 6 broken plugs from this spring for which I remembered to save receipts, and I sent them to customer service, more on principle than expecting any results.  The last time I sent about 8 plugs with receipts, and I received them all back with the letter basically blaming me for mistreating the plugs.  Well, this time I got 4 broken ones back in the mail, but I also received two replacements.  For these two, the service folks deemed faulty workmanship played a part in the plug’s demise.  To boot, the letter shared more about how they determine how the plug may have broken: like bent hooks, scratched paint, cracked bodies, things that would indicate that the plug had done battle with rocks and/or pliers, I suppose.  That is a much better approach than saying I, the consumer, fished them on the bottom or smacked them on the surface to remove grass (I learned not to do that the first year I started using them).  Anyway, I shelled out a lot of money on Rapala CD 3s and CD 5s this winter, and many times before that, and Countdowns cost anywhere from 7 to 9 bucks depending on sales and offers (and eBay lots) but I did get two back, which is something, you know, for the effort.  So I got that going me…  (Insert whatever movie line you please here.)  

The first was very accusatory.
Listen, if you use these plugs, maybe even because I sold you on them (!) save your receipts and pay the $1.75 to send them back in a padded envelope or something.  The return form is easy to find on the Rapala website.  The only way Normark/Rapala will come around and try to improve the plastic lips of these plugs (or use the old material that broke a lot less often) is if they start seeing more of them returned and/or the bottom line is somehow affected.  The same goes for any product selling at top dollar that does not perform to your liking and your liking alone.  Satisfaction implies a personal comfort with the product not consensus.  Also, don’t forget to try Dynamic Lures HD trout (thanks Kenny!) if you like plugs for trout.  I have also seen a guy in Croatia or Serbia making wire-through wooden trout plugs, including a 1.5 inch jointed one (!) and selling them on Etsy.  His are 8 bucks, too, but handmade!  I will be getting a couple soon for fall and winter fishing.  I am not doing much but sitting in the pool or the central air until it cools off, though.  These dog days are harder for me than those short, frigid winter days.


Thursday, July 7, 2016

July 6, 2016 – One Last Trout Tour before the Heat Wave(s) – The Manatawny Creek

Good flow, decent water temps, and HOT in the Oley Valley.




















I had the morning free, but with the heat expected this week, options were limited for trout.  I may have one or two more early morning trips in July on deck if it cools off or rains again, but otherwise it is time to give trout a break until late September or early October.  On Tuesday night, I was trying to think of options that would not be too warm, especially options that I had not fished yet this year.  I have not been to the Oley Valley since the winter, and at 4 AM, it’s less than an hour drive to some nice cold creeks (usually) along some quiet country roads and quaint small towns. 

Small town charm (and humor) on the underside of a covered bridge.
The Manatawny’s headwaters and tributaries have some springs and limestone influence, and the Oley Valley seemed to be one of the places that got hit with more rain on Tuesday than my area.  The gages looked good, and when I arrived the creek was downright muddy and reading a decent 66 degrees.  I brought the spinning rod in case of high water, and so I left the fly rod in the ‘Ru for the first round.  I was comfortable wet wading even at 5:30 AM, so I knew it was going to be as hot as advertised today.

A lot of 8 to 10 inch wild browns fearlessly attacked the 2.5 inch plug.




















I quickly picked up a few small wild browns on the Dynamic Lures HD Trout in an awesome black pattern.  The lure suspends, and doesn’t run as deep as other similar plugs, but it is very effective in shallower water.  I even catch fish when I work it like a jerkbait, but a straight retrieve downstream, just like a Rapala or spinner, works better most of the time.  I also caught a mess of smallmouth bass, but not one was over 4 inches long; it was almost like they had stocked fingerlings in there.  

A holdover rainbow liked the Dynamic Lures HD Trout too.




















Working my way up to a couple deep runs and holes where I usually have luck with larger fish, I dropped a decent wild brown of probably 12 inches.  The very next cast, I thought I hooked another one until I saw that it was a holdover rainbow, also about 12 or 13 inches.  He took to the air twice and put on a good show, running behind me and into the bank a couple times before posing for a quick pic.  He went back to his lair in good shape, but I decided to take another temp reading just in case.  It was still a few clicks below 70, so I pressed on upstream, hoping the water would get cooler in the shaded sections above me.  

An average one this morning, small but awfully pretty.




















Once the sun was up over the trees, it was very hot.  Humidity was bad at 5 AM, so adding the heat made me glad I was standing in 67 degree water!  Fishing slowed down as the temp rose, so I walked back to the car and grabbed the fly rod and my pack.  After some water, a banana, and a call to home, I started round two, targeting a couple deep holes with a variety of midges.  Caddis were pretty active, and the little bass and chubs were all over them even if the trout weren't, so I finally settled on a cased caddis nymph, and that proved effective.  It also weeded out many of the chubs and other small fish harassing my every cast with midges.  At the base of a tree root,  after landing another small wild brownie, I coax one more decent holdover rainbow to come out and play.

A few on the fly rod too.  Too many chubs to count, though!
By 11:30 or 12 PM, only spots in the shade were bearable, and those spots were shrinking by the minute, so I decided to call it quits.  The full power of the heat hit me when I came back up onto the road and smelled the livestock in all their glory.  Needless to say, I was happy to join my family at the swim club, and I slept from 10 PM to 8 AM without even getting up to use the bathroom (rare for a man of 47, as you may know).  Fluke in my future, perhaps some bass, but it is too hot for trout, man, too hot.

Full summer mode.  Time for a break from trout until a change in the weather/season.

Friday, July 1, 2016

July 1, 2016 – Persistence (or Stubbornness) and Good Health Pay Eventual Dividends – A Challenging NEPA Trout Day

A beautiful 15 inch wild brown eating a classic wet fly pattern!




















I met Kenny at his house before 4 AM this morning, and he was coughing and wheezing. He informed me that he’s been sick for nearly 10 days, but he thought it was nearly over… I only slept from 11 PM to 2 AM, but Ken was lucky if he got any rest.  He was still a go, however, so we stuck with the plan and headed up to the Poconos for a few hours of trout before the heat and thunderstorms kicked up.  We made good time and, after a short hike, we dropped into the water, which was very low but a very favorable 61 degrees.  Kenny and I were both unsteady on the slippery rocks, slime covered and rolled round by the normally swift current on this mountain freestoner.  I even had studded boots on, and I still was getting frustrated trying to keep a comfortable foothold.  I had too many close calls, and the alternative of billy-goating from boulder to boulder had its own potential perils.

Some of these on the rocks.
Some caddis were in the streamside vegetation, but nothing was on the water but midges and a few stonefly cases on the rocks, so I started out throwing a big streamer, hoping to duplicate my success of a few weeks ago when I had some early morning streamer fun on a similar stretch of water.  Kenny quickly switched to the spinning rod.  After an unproductive 45 minutes, only scaring one fish, I stuck with the long rod, popping another reel on from my pack and tying up a nymph rig.  I was stubborn or patient enough to know that I could pick some pockets and white water plunges in this low water with some heavy flies and some high sticking.  I decided that I needed to move slowly and stealthily as possible (on the verge of falling at any moment) and tight line a large caddis or stonefly and midge dropper.  I got one bow on a big stone, but the rest came on a combo of caddis larvae and a classic wet dropper.  On a whim I tied on a royal coachman, of all things, trying to double my success by swinging the fly after it passed me.  It tricked at least one of the browns, so there was that.

High sticking with a lot of weight finally broke the slump.




















Ken definitely overestimated his health, texting me before 9 AM that he was heading back to his car to rest up.  He skirted the skunk, landing a fat rainbow on a trout magnet, so that probably sealed the deal.  Okay, I can sleep now, he probably thought.  I promised to be back by 10 AM (yeah, right!), but it was 10:50 AM when he picked me up on the road a half mile upstream.  I appreciated the understanding and trust that he would have done the same thing if I encouraged him to do so.  I still felt a little bad, but I was finally catching fish, so I couldn’t quit until I salvaged the morning just a little more.  Salvage, I did.  I only got 5 fish before I finally texted him back saying I would meet him for a pick up if he was ready.

A very tired and/or serious face with gorgeous, buttery brownie.




























I landed two healthy rainbows between 12 and 14 inches with good fins and bad attitudes, fingerling plants from last year or earlier, but it was the three great brownies that really gave me hell.   The biggest one, photographed in the net, was 17 inches and took all my wits to land in fast pocket water with plenty of obstacles to use in his favor.  After a downstream chase and a lot of side pressure, I finally got his head up in a shallow eddy and slid him into the net.

This one measured out to 17 inches (also on the coachman!).




















All my drinking water was gone, Kenny was texting me wondering where I was, and I had tallied 5 fish, all good ones, and I even used a massive boulder as tripod for some decent self-fish shots, so I hoofed it back to a spot where I could hitch a ride with Ken, quickly hopped in apologizing, and did a quick change in a parking lot in town, so we could get home early-ish.  I drove his new Subaru Crosstrek home, which was a joy, even in wet pants and tired bones.  We made good time, with 15 minutes to spare for me to get the boy to a long-needed haircut.  With the pre-holiday traffic, I definitely cut it a little close (Sorry, honey!), but it is hard to quit on those bad mornings.  Despite the pictures to the contrary, it was a tough day that ended with a good flurry of activity, enough to make it worth getting out of bed at 3 AM, maybe.  If Ken gets some sleep tonight, maybe he will agree.  Maybe.

Not many and hard to come by, but they were all quality fish this morning.