December 30, 2020 – Barely Legal Stockies – SEPA Freestoner

Felt like a dirty old man.

Someone paid for these fish.  Well, I guess my TU dues helped pay for these fish.  I should feel slighted, but it is a common occurrence with fall stockies some years.  You can feed them and plump them up, but it appears that you can’t hurry length.  No, you just have to wait.  I had a couple hours to kill this afternoon, and it was not all that cold out, so I took a short drive to the local freestoner.  I had heard from reliable sources that the fish were small, but I confirmed that for myself today.  I landed 8 fish in a couple of hours of walking and exploring, and they were all the same size rainbow, still in parr marks and all of 8 inches long.  Perhaps for practice with the bobber, I only brought a 9-foot 4-weight rigged with a long mono rig, and I slipped on an easily adjustable thingamabobber with a stopper to drift some small bugs.  The fish took either a size 16 brown hare’s ear on the anchor or an 18 frenchie on the dropper.  I rolled one big fish, but since I landed a big sucker a while later, I assume the first fish was also a sucker.  But it might have been a big sleepy trout.  Not that I will be spending much time on this creek this winter, but there is a chance that a couple bonus fish got mixed in with the juveniles?  A couple whoppers with the side of fry?

December 28, 2020 – Sneaking Out Midday on a Monday with a Mitch – Valley Creek

ELove in situ.

Eric wanted to get out this week, and we talked about chasing some stockies close to home at a particular spot he has not fished before.  I heard from the Silver Fox that fish in said spot were all seven inches long, so on a whim I checked the gage at Valley and was pleased to see that the graph was slow to decline.  Decision made, we would poke around Valley and hope to avoid other holiday fishermen if possible (it was not).  Eric has only fished the park with me a few times, so I took him a little further upstream this morning, just to show him around.  There was some construction to avoid on the way, but we finally arrived before 11 AM.  Sneaking up a tributary, we got on the board quickly with 3 or 4 Valley average fish.  The water was pretty clear already, and cold—the gage was saying 42-ish in the park to start the day—but flows were looking promising and there was no shortage of sun to warm things up.  It was actually cloudy to start, so I was hoping for some bugs to hatch, but I only saw a handful of midges late in the afternoon after Eric and I parted ways.  His mother in law was home watching his girls, and she had had enough by 2:15, I guess!  I was hoping for some late day redemption after a rough patch, so I decided to stay a while longer.  I ended up running into other dudes in two spots I wanted to fish, so in the end, I just fished my way back to the parking spot.  I did get to see a little winter sunset, so the second shift was not all bad even if it provided nothing on the fishing front but young of the year and another white sucker.

The old San Juan...

I was having a tough time early with what I ended up diagnosing as a tippet ring with a sharp edge—they don’t really ever hit rocks, but I think sometimes they come off the production line with a rough edge or, more likely, I get them with a nipper and create a rough spot.  Anyway, I lost two snags that should not have been lost before I took the time to diagnose.  Eric picked up a few little guys while patiently waiting for me to get with it.  I got a few fish tighlining an sj worm, and later on a pair of midges/perdigons.  The “best” trout, all of 9 inches, took a single walts in a deep eddy under a small palsa pinch on indicator.  Fittingly enough, after missing a few fish throughout the day, including one I rolled with a late hookset that looked better than 9 inches, I had no problem sticking two suckers in the mouth while tightlining a pair of small bugs.  I am slow to commit to the bobber, but it is late December, so I probably should man up with how light the hits are in this cold water.  Then again, each day is different.  And that is the dilemma sometimes: catch fish or catch them the way you prefer to catch them?  At the very least, I should acknowledge that on days when I have not brought my A game I should turn to the bobber assist.

Eric found some little ones to cooperate.

Today was trip 96 of 2020, but I have not the drive to make it to 100.  Besides some surf fishing and a handful of NEPA trips, I have stayed pretty close to home this year of the Covid, so I am not all that motivated to visit one of the five or six wild trout streams that I have fished all year—as a reader you may even tire of seeing Northampton County Limestoner, no?  I thought I might fish less this year than last because so many more fishermen have had the free time to get out and put more pressure on already pressured creeks (no offense if you are one of them, but I do want my office back!).  I have heard this sentiment from others like me who already fished a lot and quickly grew tired of the crowds this year.  I saw so many more lip wounds and bobbers in trees on wild trout streams!  The upside, however, is that I got to fish with my young protégé Eric a lot more, and I got to show Ward and Jeff the ropes too.  These things would not have happened without the Covid. 

One benefit of staying a little longer.

The best Christmas gifts I received this year, besides a healthy family, were the unsolicited compliments and gratitude from my buddies.  Eric told the boys at the fly shop, all Sam’s fishing pals too, that I was his mentor.  Sandy Dunkin calls me Yoda in texts when he asks my fishing advice.  Ward left me a great holiday voicemail thanking me for getting him out this spring and summer.  The Silver Fox has expressed his gratitude several times in the past.  I don’t think my ego needs this, but I like to fish alone and I guard my spots, so I do like that my buddies acknowledged the sacrifice or selflessness required of a sworn fishing hermit (in life in some ways too).  Social fishing is good for me, however, and even more so this year when most of my socializing was limited to fishing with friends.  I will not say Happy New Year, as I will fish again this week at least once.  There will be more to come before I get back to work, too.  The Silver Fox and I penciled in a trip for New Year’s Day, hoping for some winter brook trout.  I have been in touch with Sam out in State College too.  Weather permitting, I am going to pay him a visit during the first week of January.  The shots of rain that have normalized flows here have also done their part out there, and I am due.  I have not been out to see him since early March of this year, and that is too long!   

Pretty plumper on a single walts.

 

December 24, 2020 – The Fish Were Not Feeling Festive – Northampton County Limestoner

A bit cold and grey, the water not the air.

Once again, my last shot at the surf for 2020 was delayed or indefinitely postponed (perhaps cancelled at this point) by the threat of snotty weather.  Closer to home, it got close to 60 degrees, which is awesome weather for fishermen, but with all the snow on the ground rapidly melting, it was not really a great day for a fish.  I thought I would get up and fish in the morning, beating the rain that was supposed to arrive before noon and possibly some of that frigid snow melt water, too.  I slept until close to 9 AM, so I thought I had missed my window, but the new forecast and radar this morning had the rain arriving much later, like maybe 2 PM at the earliest.  It was actually around 4 PM when I was driving home when any real precipitation began to fall.  I left the house around 10 AM, drove about an hour, and fished until 3:45 PM.  I fished in rain gear the entire time, but I only had the hood up about half of the time.  Besides one other nice and courteous fly guy—he actually asked if I was working upstream or down, a lost civility on some of these pressured creeks—I had the place to myself.  If not for that and the warm weather, I would not have fished for as long as I did for all of three fish.  I think I had maybe 5 hits all day.

One fish.

I thought about fishing a different creek today, but I figured parking would be tricky in the one snowy/muddy/slushy pull-off.  My plan, then, was to drive to this second creek, suit up, maybe prospect, and then be dressed for creek one in case I had to park far away.  When I saw no other cars at the first spot, and I got bounced on my first cast in a tricky back eddy spot, I decided to stay put.  After that first hit, it took a good 45 minutes to land my first one, so maybe I should have stuck with plan A….  I just didn’t think it was going to be happening anywhere today with all the cold water, I suppose.  I worked the same stretch where I caught my first fish a second time because I dropped another one on a sluggish hit and equally sluggish hookset at the end of this stretch.  Doubling back, I actually got another fish.  By this time, I had encountered the other dude, who echoed my assessment that it was a slow, slow day.  I could see the flow rising and getting dirtier, and the two times I had to get my hand wet to release a trout, the cold was memorable.  I was hoping for one of those dreary day hatches of BWOs to turn them on, but I eventually threw a worm for a while before switching back to a bomb waltz and my go-to little brown nothing hare’s ear on the dropper.  The two fish I did land took a perdigon, but I had to work to get two midges down with any consistency, and I didn’t feel like indicator fishing or re-rigging with 6X in the rain.  Lazy or just unconvinced it was going to happen either way, I don’t know.   There are many upcoming weeks of watching midges under a bobber, too….

Two fish, and no pic of three fish....

I did hold out some hope that the later afternoon might prompt one or two desperate ones to eat (magic hour again?) and I had not explored a favorite stretch of pocket water in quite a while, a month or more, so I made my way upstream.  After 3 PM and in a deep pocket, I found my third fish, the best of the day and not netted or photographed!  I was a little miffed, mostly because I got a crappy hookset and knew it might come off.  After a second jump, I was actually surprised I had a chance of giving you some quality content—a 12 inch fish instead of the two 8 or 9 inchers that I did photograph.  But as expected, the fish eventually shook off that little brown hare's ear before I could drag her into a reasonable spot in which to net.  It was getting darker, but probably because the line of showers was actually nearing by now, but I did fish out this pocket water and then return to the hole where I lost the fish, this time with a big attractor, the sj worm.  Nothing doing, and nothing nosing in the flat water upstream either, even with a sign of some midges in the air (finally!) so I headed for home with my tail between my legs.  There are worse ways to spend a warm, drizzly afternoon in December, but there are better ways too, you know?  Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, mitches!

December 22, 2020 – Thank Goodness for Magic Hour – Berks County Limestoner

Just past magic hour.

I was in a holding pattern by mid-morning today, having caught up on my grading but still waiting on a few well-intentioned if disorganized stragglers to submit work before my deadline of tonight.  I had a feeling this was going to be the case, as it often is, so I had planned to fish the surf with Jeff this morning.  He had to bail last minute when a client needed to see him today, but the forecast at the beach had changed to snotty, so we probably would have bagged it anyway.  It was supposed to get milder today, but with snow on the ground, that is a catch 22.  Too warm, and the snow melt drops the water temperature and shuts off the bite right when it should be getting good during the warmer part of the afternoon.  Even with the minor snow earlier in the month, the melt affected the day Jay and I poked around Northampton County.  

More of this soldier below.

With all this in mind, I decided that if I was clear of responsibilities early enough, or I had gotten up and graded what I needed before 9 AM, I was going to head north to a couple favorite limestoners.  I did not finish what I needed to do until 10:30, however, so I now had even more decisions to make.  I got dressed around 11 AM, still not knowing what I would do.  I thought of just catching some stockies close to home, even some wild fish at Valley Creek, but the snow on my roof and gutters was melting pretty steadily.  Around 11:30 AM, I just got in the car and drove west, watching the thermometer on the dash.  It was hovering around 41 or 42, so I decided to visit an old favorite in Berks County that does not get much pressure this time of year.  Some solitude in the snow sounded good even if the fish did not cooperate.  It started out slow, with maybe 3 fish and a chub in the first two hours, but magic hour produced 6 more, even a nice 13+ inch post spawn warrior, so in the end a good winter afternoon of impromptu small stream fishing.

Not a bad winter outing after a slow start.

I think I landed one chub in soft water under a bobber in the first hour or more on the water.  I tightlined a few softer seems, and eventually landed what I thought might be my only trout of the day.  Thankfully, I did not walk past a long flat pool on the way up to two favorite winter holes.  Instead, I popped on a bobber and landed two decent fish on a blue perdigon.  I missed one other too, so my confidence was restored.  I pressed on to my honey hole.  I was shocked that I got no hits slowly drifting small bugs through the deep flat part of the hole, so I added a sj worm with two beads to dredge the bottom, eventually dropping the bobber and just nymphing the entire hole, focusing on deep water and soft edges of current.  I almost didn’t react when I felt a subtle but unmistakable hit transferred through the rod blank.  I reacted late and missed, but the next cast netted a decent little wild brown on the worm. 

Snow, San Juan, and wood.

The next cast also ended with another fish, this one on the perdigon on the dropper.  Four fish!  I worked up the head without any more takers, so I considered hoofing it to one last hole, which is a bit of a walk upstream.  The sun was starting to dip low in the sky, so I chose to save this other hole for another day and just fish this productive hole one more time with more intention and confidence now that fish had been caught.  Good call, because in that magic final hour before sunset, I landed 6 more fish, including the best of the afternoon.  This guy was lucky to be alive!  He was still colored up from the spawn but had quite a chunk taken out of him.  I don’t think it was a spawning injury, at least not from a rival.  Instead, it looked like he almost took a flight in a raptor’s mouth in recent days.  The wound was pretty fresh.  Fish are certainly vulnerable on redds.  The redds I saw on this small, relatively shallow creek were quite exposed in the tailouts, so fish make themselves easy pickings for birds and other predators.  The water was ice cold, so the wound might get to heal slowly.  I have caught other fish in the past with dark, black scars from similar battles, but this was the freshest I could remember seeing.  No blood, but pink flesh clearly showing.  I kept him wet while I took a few pics and then let him go.  Based on his colors I can assume that at least his DNA is in the creek even if he doesn’t make it until spring—tough guy DNA is a good legacy to leave behind.

If he doesn't make it, at least there's tough guy DNA in the creek for the future.

This fish and at least two others ate the worm in the same slow, deep section before the hole slopes to the tailout.  No takers on the bobber the first time through, but now that magic hour was upon us, they decided to get up off the sandy bottom and get a snack before bed.  My muscle memory of similar evenings was telling me to strip a bugger or hop a big jig, but daylight was waning, and I had a walk in order to get back.  There were a lot of new posted signs I noticed on the way in, likely from hunting season, but that still gave me reservations about bushwhacking out to the road.  Instead, I had to hike back in the creek, the way I came.  Of course, I had to try a few spots that did not produce on the way up.  The sun was probably too low by now, so I did not get a touch on the walk back downstream.  Magic hour is short, but that is part of what makes it magical, I suppose.  I fish the morning so often, especially in the spring and summer, that it was a treat to be out in the cold evening light of winter.  There will be more of these afternoon excursions to come now that the winter has officially arrived.

More of a spinner/Covid crowd wound on this pretty one, number 9 of the afternoon.

December 20, 2020 – A Frozen Hose: We Did for All for Dolf – Ocean County Beaches

Not even a sunrise with rain approaching.

I have heard an old adage, repeated by Jeff a couple times this fall, that to begin a season with a skunk and end with a skunk counts for something in the good fortune category. I will leave it to an old salt like Reelin Ron to advise whether or not that is true or even a thing. In more practical terms many sharpies quit when the hose is frozen—or hoses are frozen? I can stand the cold, and today was not cold, but when I can’t rinse the salt off my stuff without bringing hot water from the kitchen out to the driveway, well, that is surely a sign. Frozen hose or not, if I quit the surf today, it will have ended the way it began, a skunk. I even had Jeff along for both trips. Today was for Dolf, however. For the second crappy SSW Sunday this fall, we ventured out trying to get the dude on a bass. He’s caught plenty of bass before, just not this fall. I took the guys to one of my spots, and there was bait at first light, even signs of a couple small fish, but the tide was low and water a bit dirty (perhaps snow melt catching up). It was also a tad too sporty for short bass to venture through the cut—certainly not a day for rats on bombers and small bucktails. We tossed 2 ounces of metal and a teaser for a few hours, an SP and Mag Minnow in there for good measure, even a heavy plastic eel, but I had one bump all morning, and I did not connect. It was a long shot this morning with low tide right at sunrise, but it was a legit shot, as I was within a long walking distance of another cut where I tore them up five days ago, and this here cut is typically even better! Regardless of whether the adage about skunks is true, my own rule in December used to be two in a row. To that end, if Tuesday’s forecast for a W wind holds, I have Jeff penciled in as a go. That will be the day we catch fifty while Dolf has to work. I obviously have more faith in Murphy’s Law than the skunk sandwich and/or frozen hose.

December 15, 2020 – Double Double on the Way to a Solo (?) Double Digit Day – Ocean County Beaches

Sunrise and many shorties.

As much as I have fished the surf this fall, I had yet to fish it alone, and think I needed a solo trip today, as I was wide awake at 2:30 AM thinking I should check the conditions online.  The wind and surf looked too good to pass up, especially since the beaches will likely take a beating from a Nor’easter on Wednesday into Thursday—and that may send the fish packing too.  I have a couple spots that are usually productive and have been for several years, and I had not fished them at all this fall.  They are both cuts and sometimes rips that form where there used to be rocks before, you know, the replenishment.  Whether the fish are up on the bars marauding or hanging in and out of the cut, I can usually find something there at the right time of the tide, day, run—I even catch fluke at one of them in the summer because the surf pounds up some clams on a rough day.  Once a season, one of these spots typically delivers a silly one for me, usually on a cold December morning with a W or NW wind.  Granted, the fish used to be 26 to 33 inches, and now they are 18 to 25, but I landed 26 short bass today in three and a half hours with two doubles and one or two dropped fish as well.

Double double.

I used to bring my dad here a couple times each fall because I knew he could catch a mess of shorts on the right day.  He actually passed away last year before the fall run got going, so he didn’t get to take part in a good day I had last year with Dolf, Jeff, and Pete at one of these cuts, but I think he came along and helped me out today.  Having just waxed poetic about how exhausting crowds and spot burning can be, I had the beach to myself today.  I literally could see one buggy a half a mile to the north and three walk-ons fishing bait a half mile to the south.  I caught fish until I got tired, but I probably could have kept picking away once the tide dropped even more and gave me access to deep water again.  I remember two mornings when I was surf sick years ago where I quit at 50 fish, greedy for that tug, especially on a plug.  Working on 3 hours of sleep today, no water or food with me, and eventually a sore shoulder, I kept saying I would quit today at 10, then 15, then 20, then 25.  I did not have 30 in me, and the odds of catching anything larger were slim, so the older wiser me called a soft quit around 9:30 AM—I did prospect some whitewater a couple times on the walk back, of course, so it was definitely a longer late fall morning than normal.  I was working hard hauling in fish from a distance on my little Bomber/SP rod, a Ron Arra 1083, which is my schoolie/rat rod.  Before I knew this was going to last more than the usual hour, I was working even harder to get them in quickly, and I only took pics if they ate something new or showed up in pairs.  I left the only slightly beefier big brother, the 1084, in the car when I saw flat seas and a shore break from the dunes when I arrived and snuck a pre-game piss a few minutes before false dawn.  This light rod and I had to work hard and toss a 2 ounce T-Hex for most of the morning. 

The teaser and the Mag Minnow

I did get a few on a Mag Minnow, but only one of them was part of that 24-25 inch year class; the others were the 18 inchers.  Even at high tide, the slightly better ones, and both doubles that I had to drag in, of course, were at the end of long casts, so the metal fit the bill.  The clouser teaser had not been getting any love this year until today, but if I include the doubles I would say close to a fourth took the fly today.  I did not even throw a plastic eel because the T-Hex was getting eaten so regularly.  I tossed the Mag to give the arms a break or because I saw signs of fish in close—it’s a quiet blitz, the sandeel blitz, but there are signs of breaking fish sometimes.  I had one 18 inch bass leap like a smallmouth after he was hooked, so that was fun and rare for me.  I kept quiet about my success until my 17^th and 18^th fish came on a double.  Then I had to text Jeff and Dolf, and resist the urge to text Pete, who has not been able to fish as much this fall.  Little did I know that 22 and 23 would also be a double, and that was too close to 25 fish to turn back.  The last three fish got smaller and the tide was two hours past high, so at 26 fish I started walking back, thinking about all those cold morning in the past when I thought for sure my mom was going to kill me or congratulate me for losing my old man at sea.  At least I knew if he fell into the rip, I could find a key to his truck in a magnetic key hider under a bumper or wheel well and drive home with a new truck.

December 13, 2020 – Party of Six, Three Shorties – Ocean County Beaches

Fish were caught, one on a bare hook?

If you read this blog a lot, you probably know how much I love crowded fishing.  I almost bagged my plans last evening when I heard the small party of hopefuls I was expecting to fish with this morning had ballooned to five, possibly six.  I had in mind a certain rip in Ocean County to fish, but I like spot burning about as much as I like fishing in a crowd!  Plus, I could feel an expectation to put these guys on fish, and I have not fished the aforementioned area but once this fall.  I don’t mind social fishing sometimes, but that is not my motivation to fish most mornings.  Even on a crowded beach, I take a step closer to the surf than most in order to take the distractions out of my peripheral vision and just enjoy the experience, get in the zone, watch the diving birds and flipping bait, do whatever is required mentally that day to catch a fish or two.  I realize that not all of my buddies feel that way about fishing and some rarely if ever venture out alone.  Fishing provides many things to many different mitches.  This is the way. 

Some whitewater, but mostly shorebreak.

After surfing the possibility of sleeping in or heading out on my own, I finally wrapped my head around the fact that today would be my 91^st fishing trip of 2020, and I have enjoyed the surf more often this fall than in more recent years because a couple buddies who want to learn something have motivated me to take more long drives than warranted by the diminished Jersey surf.  I know I sound old whining about the glory days, but it wasn’t THAT long ago that a schoolie was just under 28 inches not barely 24.  A lot of 24 inch fish get photographed these days, so that must make a four or five year old fish feel good!  Or is it more like everybody getting a trophy in little league!?  Me, I snapped a shot of an 18 incher today, so pee wee league baseball card?!  Anyway, with help from one of those mitches, our boy Jeff, I called an audible on Plan A and decided we should share our little productive cut on another beach in the same county.  With the expected crowds (and this was before we knew how good Saturday had been with the clouds and west wind) I figured we could use the mob we brought with us to our advantage.  We probably looked like a blitz line-up where there was no blitz….  Fish were caught, however, so this little spot has been kind and an awesome proving ground for Jeff, especially.  

The line up and pee wee league for me.

We had Dolf (the Braid Pioneer), Tony (the Squid), Jeff (Sandy Dunkin), his son (Gentle) Ben, Ben’s buddy and Dolf’s daughter’s boyfriend GC (Girl Crush), and me (the poor man’s Shell E. aka Short E. Caris) all lined up by 5:30 AM.  The young bulls were in the cut, but I caught one borderline rat of 18 inches a couple blocks away on the bar just at sunrise.  When the boys got wet and were done for the morning, Jeff got a decent shortie over 24 and Tony got one that size too, also in that cut.  I apparently missed quite a lot hanging down the beach on the edge of the structure, watching from afar: Ben had to rummage for toilet paper and join the foxes in the dunes, just like his Uncle Dolf would have done most mornings.  I also watched a video with play by play commentary of Jeff landing his fish spoken in the tone only a son would use to rib his old man.  Jeff’s fish was landed with only a bare teaser hook in its mouth.  I gave him a tip that if we wanted to get a little more distance in his cast, he should remove the teaser.  My one theory is that he hooked a sandeel or flea on the bar with that hook on the retrieve, and bam when it dropped in the slough.  Basically, the insanity one would expect from a party of 6 among a party of hundreds, and three cooperative fish as far as the eye could see.  

My quiet moment with some brant geese and loons.

It was good to see good times being had, and I was content to fish around the edges and see some fish in our party, especially because none of us noticed another bent rod in sight, and there was no shortage of rods out there, believe me.  I was hoping more fish would come to the beach with 6 sticks in the water, but there was a south to north sweep and a swell that kept most of the short fish that are around this time of the season out in calmer water, I guess.  Apparently, with the rainy morning and a W not a SSW wind like today, many shorties came over the bar on Saturday.  Not good for us today, of course, but that is a good sign for this upcoming week, provided the snow storms and latest cold snap don’t end this thing very soon.  Loons were still bringing up sandeels, though the little bass I landed coughed up a sand flea, so he was scavenging for whatever he could find—they do love those things, though!  One dude that we wanted to get on a fish came up short today, our boy Dolf (and he was even throwing braid) so I hope there is at least a weather window for rats by next weekend.  I will likely scout around this week.  I think Tuesday is supposed to be cold but stable, sandwiched between two storms, so that is my tentative plan for now. A bit cold for trout that day, anyway....

December 11, 2020 – A Tough One on One of My Favorite Creeks Because It Is a Tough One – Northampton County Limestoner

One nice colored up fish.  One.

Jay planned a few days off for late this fall and had asked me for suggestions about where to go.  He mentioned a couple creeks in particular, both of which I have fished quite a lot.  As an avid reader of this blog, he would certainly have known this one if I actually named it on the blog.  It is one of those handful of Northampton County creeks that I frequent.  I have fished the one we visited today since I was 19 or 20 years old, so like the Mighty Brodhead, it is among my home away from home creeks.  I will not bore you with more talk of how I love it because it gives and it takes in equal measure.  There are many posts to that end in the archives.  I talked Jay into the chasing stockies on the Tully last time he wanted to get out fishing because I knew fish were still pretty spawny at that time.  We saw redds today, but no fish on them anymore, so I am confident that once the surf fizzles out, I can fish most of my winter spots now without disturbing anything.  Because Jay had expressed interest in this creek, as many do—more on that below—I prefaced my suggestion on where to go today by saying it will be tough but I will show you around.  Like always, I am hopeful that my guests may see the creek on a good day and gain some of the appreciation I have for it, but it often turns out the way it did today.  She has a mind of her own, or she is jealous maybe?  Let me see: Kenny, Eric, Tom C, Tom H, Ward… There are others I have forgotten, for sure.  We either get whooped, or I get a decent fish or two and my guest gets whooped.  Jay jokes that if you see an ad for his wading school, do not sign up. I counter, that I you see me pushing a guide service in the future, I would proceed with the same level of caution.

Jay in action, Eric's stone, a little color.

It was a balmy 29 degrees when we met up this morning, even though it did get up to the high 50’s midday, albeit right when we were standing in the icy mist behind a set of low head falls and really could not appreciate the warmth.  No icing on the guides early, surprisingly enough.  I did not take a water temp, but it did look cold.  It had a gray snow melt tint to it, actually.  While I was concerned about that color and what it meant for water temp, I was also encouraged by the stain.  Go figure.  I think the cold water won the battle for domination, however.  Neither one of us got more than a tap in the first two hours.  And to top it off, as we approached a hole I wanted to fish because it had been exposed to the sun for while, we watched a spinner guy walk in from the other direction and land a 16-inch wild brown—a fish that is probably dead now, as dude had a heck of time getting him unstuck from multiple trebles!  Ouch.  Talk about insult to injury.  And on a creek where I am intimate with a few of these fish.  We went easy on him because he tried to revive the fish and did not know it was wild, as he had never been to the creek before.  It seemed to register that he had a special fish in his hands for way too long, so we left it at that and drove to another spot.  I catch holdover rainbows at spot two when the browns don’t cooperate, but even the bows were off today.  The water was icy gray and deep, so we lost rigs trying to dredge something out.  When Jay quit the hole to warm up, I figure I’d better be a good host and show him a more hospitable spot.  I was happy to leave the cold spray and to warm up myself if I am being totally honest!   We took a walk to a couple pressured holes on this beat, and they actually looked great.  The stain was not as ominous looking and the sun was getting lower and not lighting up the particulates.  I saved the so-called hot spot for Jay as he rigged up again, and I stepped into a secondary spot.  This will sound familiar to the Silver Fox….  I caught a big rainbow out of this same hole when I showed him around this creek earlier in the year. 

One more shot of the only one.

Well, today it was a beauty wild brown that choked Eric’s big stonefly nymph.  I had thrown small, thrown junk like a worm and an egg, and now, short of tossing a streamer (which Jay did try) I had decided to throw the last trick I have on tough days: dredge the bottom with a big meal.  It works at times, and the golden stone gets eaten sometimes in the winter in places where I can’t even confirm there are stoneflies.  I do believe I have seen adults buzzing around here in the summer, however, so it wasn’t a totally random choice.  Jay finished his knot and ran up to snap a few pictures of the colored up male.  We both said 15 or 16 independent of each other, so let’s say over 15....  If you are only going to catch one fish on a tough day, this was a pretty good one to catch.  Oh, wait, I guess I just spoiled the ending too?  It is true.  I coached Jay through the honey hole that I saved for him, and I even fished it with that big stone after he moved through, and we could not get any love.  I had one more spot a short drive away, but when we pulled up there were two fly guys in the water and another suiting up at his car, so we just took our time packing up in a different parking lot and called it a day.   Add Jay to the list of dudes tricked into coming to one of my favorite creeks, only to find himself snubbed.  At least Jay saw two big browns (one dead now? one alive).  Others have experienced far worse.

December 10, 2020 – Fish Were Caught but the Real Numbers Were Just Out of Reach – Ocean County Beaches

Sure was pretty out there before sunrise.

I am glad Jeff and I got out today because, even though the tides are more advantageous by the weekend, a South wind may mess things up pretty good.  Better to fish than wait for the perfect day is my philosophy.  And we caught a few short fish even dealing with full sun and low tide right at magic time this morning.  The water got cold almost overnight.  I saw one buoy reading of 46 degrees, which is probably a 6 or 7 degree drop since the last time we fished the surf.  It has been cold, however.  It is not over if the bait hangs around and the temps hold steady, but 46 degrees is not 50 degrees.  The ocean is still alive for now.  There were signs of life just over the bar at sunrise: birds, bait flipping, a seal having his way with said bait, even two smaller boats just over the second bar beating up shorts just out of our casting range. 

Our boy was sharp today.

If we had a bit more water in the slough provided by a different and earlier point in the outgoing flood tide, it could have been a different morning.  There were still crowds chasing reports to the north of us, and Pete sent me a pic of a buddy’s keeper bass from just north of where we were today.  Jeff and I could actually see them, the concentration of bodies not where it’s been, concentrated further north of us this time.  I hate crowds, and I even felt crowded today after Jeff and I had a little success after sunrise.  Unlike last week, Jeff was on his game, even changed up to a white plug as the sun broke the horizon and hooked up almost immediately.   Taking his lead, I tossed a white bucktail and teaser on my lighter bomber/SP rod, just for a change, and got a couple on that white combo too.  I did try to forge the slough twice to get out on the bar to have a better shot at some numbers, but I had to turn back both times when it got too deep too soon. 

A couple bucktail shorties.

I figured that if it was too deep to wade the first slough, then dammit at least some shorts had to be in there, and they were.  But I am sure if I got out there on that bar, many shorts were to be had. One reason dudes buy kayaks is because they see boats tearing them up under 200 yards from shore.  That was us today.  Too cold and a little to swelly to beach launch this morning at low tide anyway.  It looked like hickory shad and eels still making a splash out there, and birds were on them at times.  I had to ask Jeff to confirm that my eyes weren’t playing tricks when I saw a seal chilling near the surface just over the second bar.  I am sure he scared those dink bass away too, but it is hard to leave bait and fish, and there wasn’t much available real estate on the beach anyway, so we stayed put until after 8:30 just throwing small for a bend in the rod.  Instead of taking a ride to try more spots in high sun and low tide, we decided a few fish was good enough.  Usually crowds trail off after Thanksgiving, but nothing is normal in the Year of the Covid.  I did not even bring my 10-foot rod today, not expecting any fish over 30 inches, but I am convinced that is not over, either.  The south wind this weekend looks bad, and I don’t think that will help water temps that have dropped to the mid to high forties already.  All I can say is, Hang in there, rats and shorties.  I might need at least one more shot at a double digit morning before I devote myself to the trout once again!

December 4, 2020 – The Batting Average Improves a Little and Against the Odds – Ocean County Beaches

Close enough to measure and an action shot.

I met Jeff at 5 AM this morning with hopes of finding some more bass from the surf.  In retrospect, we both should have known he would be in the weeds today.  He was a whopping five minutes late, which is not like him at all, and it turns out he couldn’t find his wallet in the morning.  He grabbed a credit card and some cash and still left for the beach, but when he stopped for gas on the way down, he forgot that credit card at the station, so he had to circle back.  He dropped my rod and phone while trying to photograph our best fish of the day, a fish I actually had to hand measure for keeper status.  Nope, just 27 inches.  The phone was in a waterproof case and the reel was sealed, so both remedied by a dunk.  Apparently, Jeff stumbled in a hole and got wet too.  The tide was coming in until close to 9 AM, and there was a swell, so I think he stepped wrong and then got the backwash beatdown.  I saw none of this, mind you, so when your loved ones tell you not to fish in the dark by yourself, remind them that if your partner is like me, he may not even notice you got sucked out to sea.  My dad used to hide a key in a magnetic case in a wheel well or under a bumper so that I could get home without him if I lost him in the rocks or something, so blame my upbringing?  Jeff may have even had a wind knot right before sunrise?  And the whiteout fish pic above?  Taken with his phone that took a swim with him.  Man, and he still caught fish!?  True grit or true mitch?  A little of both, I think, but mostly grit and a desire to get good at this.

Fish were caught against mounting odds.

Something was in the air.  I was not all there either.  I got all of two hours of sleep and, after catching one short bass in the predawn hours, dropped an additional two decent sized shorties.  A better one I hooked with my 9 footer on a bone SP minnow got off because I still had a loose drag setting following last week’s hose down and clean up at the house.  Rookie mistake.  It was in the air, I tell you.  Another nearby buggy got stuck in the sand to the frame too.  Jeff provided some boards, and I took a short shift with the shovel until we determined dude had buried himself too deep for us or any other fellow surf guy who stopped to help or coach to remedy—especially Jeff and I today in our comprised states!  And yet, it was not a bad morning.  We tangled with fish in some fishy looking surf.  The wind kind of sucked out of the SSW, and the water looked a little dirty when the sun got up.  Add a south to north sweep, and it was deceptively sporty, had been all week, I guess, and another blow is coming this weekend.  It’s too early to expect the bass to vacate after a storm, especially since plenty of fish plus those rats are still coming south, but I hate when we get a steady progression of snotty stuff in December.  I have more confidence in lighter surf and West wind while throwing small for slot fish on a sandeel bite, and I always fear the next storm will be the last of the fall run.  I am not yet feeling that scenario looming, though.

Looked fishy, yeah?

As I mentioned, I had one fish that fought like he was in the keeper range, even on my 10-footer, and he measured over 27 using the reliable hand measure, so that was fun.  In order to get eaten, Jeff and I both ended up dragging eel teasers above a 3 ounce THex.  I fished a black needle in the dark much the same way.  Drag and pop, drag and pop.  The 2.5 ounce needle really needed to settle in that swell and sweep, so the metal, while more work to toss and retrieve, got down quickly and was not as easily dominated by the sweep.  With the size of the fish we landed and saw, I would have preferred tossing an SP or small ava and teaser in close, but we took what we were handed.  I had to text Jeff when I started drafting this and ask him, “How the heck did you catch fish today with all that going on?”  He was not deterred, sick with it, and gritty as hell.  If not for Jeff and Dolf, I would be trout fishing instead of putting my body through this crap for short bass, but it has been fun and fun teaching a mitch what I remember from the days when I too had the sickness.  Because of these guys, I am sure I have a few more long, pre-dawn drives in me before I call it quits for the season.  Eric beat up on some local stockies on Thursday, so there is that too on the horizon.  I am actually thinking of meeting up with Sam before the holidays too, maybe even next Tuesday, as most fish are off the redds out in Central PA by now.  I am sleeping in on Saturday this weekend, however….

Until next week?  Although Sunday is technically next week...

December 1, 2020 – A Lot of Short Strikes and Some Short Trout – Valley Creek

A long skinny one liked Eric's custom bugger.

I thought I had a lot more grading to do this morning than I actually did, and I thought it was going to be a lot colder and windier following the storm on Monday too.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have another fishing window until Friday if I am lucky, and it was hardly calm and balmy today, but I was able to enjoy a few stolen hours on the water close to home.  Valley crested in the roads during the height of the storm on Monday, and it was stained all day even as the levels dropped slowly.  I wanted to swim a few of Eric’s bugger creations, and I caught the best fish of the afternoon on his ice dub, hot spot bugger, but it took small and black to get takers.  They were hitting really short or just swiping, and sometimes I had to work the bugger so slowly that the grab barely registered as any more than an errant leaf.  The 11 or 12 incher I landed was post-spawn skinny, and I only saw two other 12 or 14 inchers swipe at the streamer all afternoon.  Based on the 10 to 12 small to average fish I landed, I think the grownups are still in spawning mode or were resting deep post-spawn. 

Cold chocolate, so black was the call.

I only brought one rod, an 8-footer in a soft 6 weight that I found in my dad’s shed this summer, so I was committed to the streamer.  Persistence did not pay off with any big fish, but the last hour of daylight, maybe 3:30 to 4:30 PM, aka magic hour, did provide a lot of action and 75% of my fish landed.  The egg sucking leech, a black bugger with a hot bead, in size 6 or maybe even 8, was the high hook.  I did have more than one pounce on one of Eric’s buggers tight to the bank, but the fish seemed to be missing.  It is also possible that I needed my usual streamer rod in my hand to be a bit more effective.  Either way, I saw a lot more fish, all but a couple small, than I actually stuck.  At least while throwing a streamer, I could stay out of the water near any potential spawning areas.  That was a key reason why I fished here today, and I actually caught most of my fish intentionally targeting soft muddy holes and wood.  That slower, dirtier water can also explain the tentative bumps and swirls.  I was not alone out there, as I saw at least one other fly guy and two gear fishermen.  On paper it looked like a potential day, but not every post-rain bite is the same.  While cloudy, the temp was dropping and the barometer rising all afternoon, so they may not have been feeling it even if their minds were not still on the spawn.  It was also a lot of rain, and some water was still flowing in all the little rivulets coming down into the valley.  Conditions were probably better than what tomorrow will be, however.  Not that I will know since I am in Zoom all day Wednesday and Thursday this week. Fish were caught, and I am only three trips away from hitting 90 for 2020 with all of December still waiting.