The Connecticut Yankee

636 Miles

2012-01-30T19:01:00.001-05:00

Editor's note: This is another guest post by my long-time friend and fishing partner, Aaron Swanson.

This is a follow up to a story that I wrote for The Connecticut Yankee in August. Normally, I’d make some kind of comment here about how August feels so far away and I can only imagine the humidity in the middle of winter and… blah, blah, blah; truth be told it’s been WAY too warm lately and we’ll be fishing for stripers again before we know it. In fact, if you’re cool with catching sluggish holdovers on soft plastics on jig heads you could be out there doing it right now. You’d probably have more luck than I have through the ice this year! But I digress…

Back at the end of July/beginning of August (literally the calendar had just turned), I caught, posed for photos with and released my personal best striped bass deep in the night at an undisclosed location (wink, wink). To me, the bass was special for a few reasons. One being it was the largest I had ever caught. Another was that it caught from shore (I only fish saltwater from shore – for now). I caught it on my birthday, and lastly, it was a “tagged” fish. Now, this wasn’t the kind of tag your fish and game club sticks on some mutated breeder rainbow trout so your daughter can win her first Zebco push-button outfit. This fish had a yellow research tag implanted in its side marked “Tag# A24736. Reward, return to P.O. Box 769, Morehead City, North Carolina 28557.”

Now, none of these things taken by themselves are special at all. I’m a realist. People catch fish on their birthday all the time. People certainly catch much larger striped bass (cough…Myerson…cough), many of whom regularly catch multiple fish larger than that in a single outing. And plenty of anglers have caught tagged fish and returned the tag to its survey location/entity for their hat or pin or whatever. Some of the “best” anglers are even asked to participate in capturing and tagging fish for research… (I doubt anyone will ever ask me to do that). For me though, I thought all those things lining up in one night was pretty cool and if you don’t think so too then I don’t even know why you’re still reading at this point.

On Saturday, January 29th, 2012, I took a hard skunking on hardwater. I mean “hard” like fishing dark to dark, first one’s there last ones to leave, didn’t even get a flag where more than two feet of line was taken off my tip-up spool. That happens when you only target large fish with big dead baits; for me more often than not. So when I came home I was a bit tired, shot and frustrated that I haven’t been able to land a pike in my four times targeting them through the ice this year. Fortunately, my mood and energy level did a complete 180 when I found two exciting things had happened while I was staring at un-tripped orange flags all day. The first was that we finally trapped and killed the little bastard of a mouse that’s been chewing our place mats and leaving turds around our pots and pans in my kitchen cabinets. It was then, while I was taunting the dead carcass in celebration, that I noticed a large white envelope with the day’s mail on the island in the kitchen. Closer inspection revealed the package to be from North Carolina Department of Environment and Natural Resources’ Division of Marine Fisheries. Awesome! Along with my “reward” in the form of an embroidered hat, was a letter thanking me for my participation in their program and some details about the fish.

Now, for me, I could care less about any reward; but I will wear the hat with pride. The juicy information as far as I’m concerned was the where and when. I was not disappointed to read that the fish was tagged in Roanoke, Virginia in May of 2011 and had swam 636 miles before its recapture 89 days later in Long Island Sound. I really get a kick out of that because regardless how much you read about game fish migrations, unless you’re one of the guys who travels along with it, you tend to contact these fish at your point X,Y, or Z along their route. In short, it makes it real when you can see, touch and feel the tag and consequently read scientific data about where she’s been on her journey.

Again, normally I would be writing about “in the dead of winter” but we can hardly call it that at this point. Anyway, in the dead of winter I find it pretty cool to remember that right now, striped bass swimming and feeding from Virginia to North Carolina will soon be getting ready to make their run into large tributaries like the Chesapeake Bay. There they will feed and spawn before following baitfish to summer grounds from New Jersey to Maine; undoubtedly some of which I hope to make contact with while standing in Long Island Sound come May and beyond.

Cool.

Aaron hoisting his personal best striped bass that traveled at least 636 miles in 89 days.

Note the mark on her belly from where the tag came out of.

The coveted reward and a cool reminder of a memorable August night.

Back in the Saddle

2012-01-21T14:08:00.000-05:00

At long last, ice fishermen are once again venturing on frozen Connecticut lakes and ponds. This has been a trying season so far for hardwater fanatics in the Nutmeg State, but finally there is at least a short list of places to employ our favorite winter hobby. With Mother Nature being very indecisive lately, we must take full advantage of safe ice while it's still here.

The start to our first trip of 2012 was met with extreme cold. There was a stiff north wind that blasted us in the face on the walk to our chosen location. It was 12 below zero after factoring wind chill when setting up in pitch black conditions. Chemical hand-warmers helped bring our fingers back to life after each bone-chilling task. The roomy shelter and propane heaters also came up big, as did the 30-year old Coleman grill that cooked our breakfast and lunch.

While one can argue that it's technically "first ice," the calendar tells another story. It's late January now, way past when we'd normally be first walking on water, so how that plays into typical early-ice action is yet to be determined. Whatever the case, the fishing was good overall for our inaugural weekend considering the species and the destination. Between four anglers, we lowered down two dozen large dead baits with hopes for some cooperative northern pike. The fish did not disappoint; while trophies remained elusive, some very respectable pike were caught and released.

My first iced fish of 2012 (photo credit: Aaron Swanson)

Back down the hole (photo credit: Aaron Swanson)

Prepping for first kielbasa, egg & cheese sandwich of the season!

Chef Swanson manning the Coleman on a brisk morning.

Derrick Kirkpatrick of CT Fish Guides with a nice 38-inch pike that had a huge head.

A good fishing buddy and old colleague made the trek from New Jersey to join us. Matt drove through the night and met us in the parking lot an hour and a half before sunrise. Every time that we hit the ice together he seems to land memorable fish. Over the years, Matt's put in many hours on this body of water so it was great finally seeing her put out for him. He landed a 38-inch northern around lunch time, his largest ever from the lake. Not long afterwards, he topped it with a heavier pike of the same length from the same hole! It capped off a trifecta of 38-inch pike for the first weekend of the 2012 ice fishing season - not a bad start!

Matt with his first 38-inch pike of the day.

The release shot

Matt with his second and heavier 38-incher of the outing.

Not a bad scene to walk off the ice with.

Beach Day

2012-01-08T20:26:00.003-05:00

This should have been a post about my third or fourth ice fishing trip of the season so far, but apparently Old Man Winter has been vacationing in Florida. So like many anglers across the region, I am making the best of the spring-like weather. With no fishable ice to speak of in the entire state of Connecticut, a gorgeous January day along the banks of the West Branch Farmington River was not a bad plan B.

A few friends and I met bright and early at UpCountry Sportfishing in New Hartford, picked up a few supplies and hit the river, which was at a very manageable level; it's lowest flow in several weeks. There were trout surface-feeding on winter caddis as we suited up, yet we were set on dredging the bottom with various forms of nymphing. It was slow going at first, but each of us eventually settled into brief grooves and pieced together a decent batch of rainbow and brown trout. If there was a magic fly that fish were keyed into, we couldn't figure it out. However, a variety of patterns produced, including golden stone flies, pheasant tails, and winter caddis and midge larvae.

Any January outing when winter hats and gloves come off by 10 AM, no hand-warmers are needed, or no ice in forming in guides should be considered a beach day. With the stellar weather, the river was loaded with like-minded anglers as expected. The crowds turned out to be a positive thing, forcing us to fish some water we usually overlook. The highlight of my day was plucking a holdover rainbow trout on my first drift from a pool I had never fished before. We capped off the beautiful day on the tailgate of a friend's truck sipping microbrews and talking fishing.

Unfortunately, the long-term weather forecast doesn't look all that encouraging for anxious ice anglers in the Northeast, but at least we have some great backup options like the Farmington River to keep us at bay while we wait.

Photo credit: Tommy Baranowski

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

California Dreaming

2012-01-06T10:11:00.001-05:00

One of my brothers and his wife moved from Connecticut to southern California about 12 years ago. While I hate not having them around, it gives the rest of our family a great excuse to visit sunny San Diego as much as we can. This year for the first time, the whole clan spent the week between Christmas and New Years on the West Coast together.

We stayed right on the water in a laid back community called Pacific Beach. The piece of ocean in front of our rental was rich in marine life, with boats fishing over kelp beds and pods of dolphins greeting us daily from just outside the surf line. The waves were big enough to draw dozens of surfers everyday in thick neoprene wetsuits for the 58-degree water. Like usual, the weather was beautiful throughout our stay and each day peaked around 70 degrees - not bad considering it was 11 degrees when we landed back home.

Having the family together again was awesome. We enjoyed the perfect mix of relaxation and excursions, including trips to the Holiday Bowl featuring California vs. Texas, a San Diego State men's basketball game, Torrey Pines State Reserve, Cabrillo National Monument, and San Diego Zoo's Safari Park. Naturally, I was also hellbent on doing a little fishing. My wife, being the trooper that she is, joined me early one morning for a half day of bottom fishing off the coast of La Jolla.

A view of the Pacific Beach pier from our balcony.

A small subset of the Pacific Beach surfers waiting for the right wave.

La Jolla surf

La Jolla harbor seals staying alive out of the water.

La Jolla surf

A blanket of fog rolling in over Point Loma at Cabrillo National Monument. Cabrillo was a Spanish explorer

who, in 1542, became the first European to step ashore on what is now the West Coast of the United States.

An eroding plateau at Torrey Pines State Reserve, one of only two places where the Torrey Pine grows.

My brother's backyard is infested with Anna's Hummingbirds (see video below).

Pacific Beach sunset

Fishing the La Jolla Kelp Beds
I had only fished twice before on the West Coast. Once for rainbow trout in Lake Poway, which is known for trophy largemouth bass that feed on the stocked trout. The other time was a saltwater trip one August, where we caught Pacific barracuda and yellowtail on a party boat. By late December, the barracuda and yellowtail have long since left the area for warmer water, but plenty of angling opportunities remain, especially over deep water kelp beds just north of San Diego. So Mosey and I settled on a half day trip aboard aboard the 85-foot vessel, New Seaforth. Next to its dock was a fully outfitted tackle shop with its walls adorned with heavy, colorful jigs that we don't see much of in Connecticut. We rented conventional rods and reels there and picked up one-day California fishing licenses. A shop hand gave us a bag of hooks and 6-ounce lead drail weights to get our baits to the bottom in a hurry. The party boat included about 60 other anglers on board that morning, not my preferred manner of fishing, but an affordable way to get on the water.

A slew of colorful jigs hung on the wall of Seaforth's headquarters

There was a gorgeous false dawn on full display as we steamed out to the La Jolla kelp beds from Mission Bay. One of the mates on board sliced up whole squid into strips for bait while another rounded up the first-timers to give us the lay of the land. We were fishing for anything that was hungry on the sea floor and that could include a wide variety of species. I had been checking the boat's fish counts online leading up to the trip and the most common catches coming over the rails had been rockfish, California sheephead, Pacific mackerel, and kelp bass, all of which Mosey and I had never seen in person. Our rig was pretty straight forward and much like a "bounce rig" that I use while nymphing in trout streams. It consisted of a long leader of monofilament with our weight tied to the bottom. About a foot and a half above it was tied a dropper loop for our hook. Some anglers chose to add an additional dropper loop and hook, but it increased the chances of snagging kelp or tangling with other lines, which can happen often in an environment like that.

Mosey's ready!

We enjoyed one hell of a sky that morning.

Conventional rods and reels resting in notches along the rail.

Although there were sardines and anchovies too, squid strips were the bait of choice on this trip.

As we approached the fishing grounds, the surface came alive with migrating gray whales, pods of dolphins and harbor seals popping up around the boat. There were juvenile pelicans everywhere too, and though cool to see at first, turned out to be a major pain as they tried to steal our bait or fish, sometimes successfully, on its way up. We grabbed a handful of squid strips and a piece of real estate on the port side of the boat. When the Captain dropped anchor, we followed suit and dropped our rigs 95 feet to the bottom. The crew was extremely helpful in giving newbies an idea of how to present our baits properly. There was no jigging involved; we were to keep the sinker right on bottom and our baits steady above it, raising and lowering the rod as needed with the swell. Most of my reels at home are spooled with sensitive braided lines, which would have made it easier determining subtle bites from nearly 100 feet down. With draconian monofilament line, Mosey soon showed everyone how it was done and put us on the board with a nice California sheephead, which, minus its red color, is eerily familiar to our blackfish (tautog) back home.

There was a good crowd on board, but everyone played nice and caught some fish.

Mosey with her catch of the day, a nice buck-tooth California sheephead.

Each angler was given a number when they signed in that morning, which coincided with a burlap bag on the boat to put the fish we wanted to take home. Mosey's sheephead was put in our bag for an afternoon cookout later that day. Everyone on board also chipped in $5 for a shot at the heaviest fish caught throughout the outing, known as the "pool fish" that adds a little competition to things. Over the next few hours, we landed the occasional fish and enjoyed the sights and sounds around us. Seeing the barnacle-encrusted gray whales migrating passed was worth the price of admission alone. Mosey and I both landed some feisty mackerel, which were sliced into bait strips when the squid ran out. Another wild looking fish we encountered was the rockfish, which is a loose term for a number of species in the Sebastes genus. Eventually, I brought in a respectable sheephead that temporarily had us in the running for the pool prize. We later grilled the rockfish and sheephead fillets wrapped in foil with olive oil, butter and onions. The whole family got to try these fish for the first time, which proved to be very tasty. All in all, the half day fishing trip was an excellent time and further added to a memorable week spent in California. We already miss the company and top-notch weather. Until next time!

Rockfish sure love the taste of squid.

One of the mates aboard the New Seaforth filleting a rockfish.

My California sheephead, which, with its leather lips, human-like teeth, and knot on its head, heavily resemble

our blackfish back east.

The patience and knowledge of the New Seaforth's Captain and crew helped us have a very enjoyable experience.

Season's Greetings

2011-12-25T14:17:00.001-05:00

I am getting on a plane in the morning to spend the week between the Holidays in California with family. That's what it is all about. Of course, I am sneaking in a half day of bottom fishing off the coast of San Diego too. Hopefully Mother Nature gets the memo that it's winter in Connecticut while I'm gone, because I am itching to ice-fish like you read about.

Happy Holidays to all!

Stocking Stuffers

2011-12-23T20:28:00.002-05:00

By this time last year, there was a sheet of black ice on several bodies of water in the northwest hills of Connecticut. Well, Mother Nature can be a sick and twisted lady. Officially two days into winter, there's not a hint of safe ice anywhere in the state and we saw 60 degrees and a thunderstorm this week on top of it. Ice or not, there are still some fine fishing opportunities to be had in late December.

My friend Matt is home from Virginia for Christmas. He is a true fishing bum at heart, but doesn't get on the water much lately, other than everyday aboard an aircraft carrier in the US Navy. With only a short window of time, we settled on a quick trip to a local wild trout stream. The forecast was supposed to be on the gnarly side, but, wouldn't you know it, the meteorologists were wrong and it was a beautiful morning.

When we pulled up, the water flow looked especially sexy thanks to some rain the previous day. We shared one rod between us; a 7.5-foot, 3-weight small stream special. The rigging since my last trip in November hadn't changed; a bushy dry fly serving as an indicator, with a tiny tungsten bead pheasant tail nymh about 18-inches below it. It didn't take more than a dozen drifts to stick a small brown trout and get us on the board. For the next two hours, we hiked through the woods stopping at fishy pools that treated us well in the past.

Thankfully, they were hungry this morning. About a half a dozen wild brown trout came to the hand before it was quitting time. We probably pricked twice as many. It's hard to beat the colors on stream-born trout, even if they are six inches long. All in all, it was great to fish with Matt again. Hopefully when he comes home from his next deployment, we'll do it again on a longer scale.

Happy Holidays, all! Here's to a healthy and fish-filled 2012!

Western NY Video

2011-12-12T07:12:00.000-05:00

The video from our November run up to Lake Ontario tributaries in western New York is finally complete. You can read more about the trip here: Part I & Part II. Enjoy!

Fall 'Eyes

2011-12-07T09:15:00.000-05:00

When I worked at the Inland Fisheries Division's eastern headquarters in Marlborough, CT, there was a poster adorning one of the walls that made an impression on me. It showcased a fierce looking fish with large eyes peering from a dark, craggy rock pile. The text above it read, "Walleye: A Creature of Habitat."

Walleye are predators in every sense of the word. Their large marble eyes allow them to hunt in low-light or dark conditions. They have a mouthful of sharp teeth and they hang out in the bottom part of the water column munching on forage fish and anything else that crosses their path.

Walleye are not native to Connecticut waters. Thankfully, the Inland Fisheries Division stocks them in a handful of lakes and ponds around the state. There is also a population in the Connecticut River. Although they don't successfully breed here, they are brought in from the Midwest as fingerlings and take a few seasons to reach 18-inches, or what is considered a keeper in Connecticut. That's important to know because walleye are arguably the best tasting fish in freshwater.

This fall a few friends and I have been targeting walleye with live shiners and artificial lures like soft-plastic baits on jig heads. The action has been good, yet the large 'eyes have remained elusive. The early morning or late afternoon hours have been productive windows to fish for them. However, when our waterways lock up with ice over the next weeks and months, it will turn strictly to a night game. I am looking forward to finding larger "creatures of habitat" through the ice this coming winter.

Western New York (Part II)

2011-11-28T11:15:00.001-05:00

This is the second part of an early November fishing trip to Great Lake tributaries in western New York. You can read part I here.

Small water, big fish

While fly fishing was the central theme of our trip, good food, laughs and relaxation were in no short supply throughout. To close out each day, we'd hang out where Oak Orchard Creek poured into Lake Ontario. On a rock jetty flanking the mouth of the river, Tommy gave an 'A' for effort in trying to coax any fresh fish coming in from the monstrous lake. If nothing else, it was an awesome place to down a few beers while watching the sunset over a body of water so massive it was hard to comprehend.

A beautiful sky over the 14th largest lake in the world.

Every night at headquarters, a different member of the group was responsible for a home-cooked meal ranging from freshly caught tautog to Hungarian goulash. After dinner, we sat around the table replenishing our fly boxes with sucker spawn patterns that worked well that day. Losing several flies per outing was inevitable due to the craggy stream beds, the foul-hooking of King salmon, or getting busted off on hooksets with pissed off steelhead. Spirits flowed liberally, especially brown liquors which seem to mesh perfectly with cold-weather fishing trips.

The meal Tommy prepared was fresh tautog (blackfish) that he caught while spear fishing in Rhode Island.

On the fishing front, we had our fill of Oak Orchard Creek after two long days and a third morning. The fishing was fantastic at times, but beating the same stretch of water into a froth with anglers on all sides grew old quick. We had thrown around the idea of scouting smaller tributaries of Lake Ontario, but we all knew for them to be loaded with trout was a roll of the dice. A good rain and decent water flow were usually in order for lots of fish to run in the creeks, especially the smaller ones. It had not rained a drop during our stay, but apparently what came before we arrived was enough for some very large trout to wander in a certain stream not wider than a one-way street.

About mid-morning on our third day of fishing, we pulled the vehicles over next to a bridge and got out to have a look. The Fish Gods were smiling on us because there was a fly fisherman tight to one of the biggest brown trout I had ever seen in my life. We all scurried to the trucks to grab our gear knowing where we would be spending the remainder of the trip. It had been four years since I laid eyes on this creek and not much was happening that time around. We were all looking forward to plying "new" water with a crack or two at quality trout.

Despite the small group of anglers killing it at the bridge, upstream was virtually empty, which was a welcomed sight after the mob scene from the previous two days. The water was much clearer and shallower than the Oak, so sight fishing played a big role on this leg of the trip when the sun was high enough to aid us. There were not nearly as many King salmon present in this waterway compared to the last, but there were a healthy amount of paired up brown trout preparing to spawn.

The good flow and water clarity allowed for excellent sight-fishing opportunities.

By drifting egg patterns, the crew amassed hookups with some very impressive specimen. It was mostly all brown trout for two days. Only a couple salmon were hooked and not one steelhead was seen. What lacked in variety was severely made up in size. The average brown was larger than anything we encountered on Oak Orchard. The quality of trout was also much better too because there was so much less angling pressure. Their mouths had less hook marks and there weren't flies dangling from their fins. With the small stream corridor and less anglers to avoid, netting fish was slightly easier here as well. Although, there were at least three instances when big trout ran down sets of rapids with the angler and netter frantically chasing in tow.

The huge fish also put our gear to the test. One of our two nets succumbed to the weight of too many net jobs and snapped its handle off. It must have been comical to watch us net fish with it like a basket for the rest of the trip, but we made it work. Even more ridiculous was when the top half of my 8-weight fly rod snapped like a twig on the biggest trout I had ever hooked. My friends got a hardy laugh as I continued to fight and land the beast with the broken rod tip. To make matters worse, I had left my other rod at the cabin (horrible decision). Tommy let me borrow his truck that was a much smoother ride than the beater I drive back home. I was pulled over on the side of the highway within 20 minutes. To make matters worse, my wallet was in Aaron's SUV, but the state trooper seemed to believe my story because I was donning wet waders and there was a broken rod in the shotgun seat. That didn't keep him from slapping me with a ticket, though it made for a good stream-side story when I finally returned.

My rod-breaking, speeding-ticket-causing brown trout.

Kurt with a King salmon in good condition.

Aaron with a beautiful hen that is dropping one of her eggs in this photo.

There were a few double hookups, including this beautiful pair of kype-jawed males.

This 14-pound male brown was the heaviest of the trip and deserved a (nearly complete) group shot.

At times, the small creek fishing felt like Disneyland for trout bums. It was hard to believe that there were fish that large in a waterway so small. Everyone in the crew got to experience the feeling of hooking and landing a monster brown. The small tributary scouting turned out to be the best decision made over the course of the trip and I'm sure it will play a role in fall planning for years to come. We left early on Sunday without casting a fly, even though it was the nicest day weather-wise of the week. It was a long haul back to Connecticut, but we were riding high. All told, the western New York excursion was a truly memorable one. Five buddies with nothing on their agenda but eating, sleeping and fishing; good times indeed. Stay tuned for the video!

Some broken gear, a speeding ticket and a boatload of memories were what we left western New York with.

Western New York (Part I)

2011-11-18T21:42:00.001-05:00

Oakie Dokie

A salmonoid angler's wet dream takes place in western New York every fall. It starts with scores of huge salmon descending from the Great Lakes into their tributaries to complete the circle of life by spawning then dying. On the heels of the decaying salmon, countless brown trout and steelhead (sea-run or, in this case, lake-run rainbow trout) enter these rivers and streams to spawn and to feast on the bounty of freshly deposited salmon eggs. All the while, hordes of anglers flock to the waterways to capitalize on the incredible opportunity of catching trophy fish in confined places. That is fall Great Lake tributary fishing in a nutshell.

Tools of the trade: a wide array of 10 and 11-foot fly rods.

Anticipation was high leading up to the early November trip, especially on Tuesday nights when our group convened around vises to factory tie sucker spawn patterns and place orders for plastic egg imitations called TroutBeads. It had been four years since I last made the six-hour run to western New York, but thankfully two of our five-man crew had been every fall since, so we had a pretty good idea of where we wanted to be and what we needed to do. Home base for our stay would be a cabin on the shores of Lake Ontario, just a stone's throw away from Oak Orchard Creek, which is highly touted for its impressive brown trout run.

Only the essentials made the cut in Aaron's overfilled SUV.

In a SUV packed to the brim, Aaron, Kurt and I made the trek through the night with help from coffee and energy drinks. We arrived on Wednesday morning with an hour to relax before sunup. On the riverbank, we met Derrick and Tommy who drove up a night early and gave us a solid report of the previous day's action. First light revealed a river running with ideal flows and water clarity; medium high and slightly stained. The Oak's good reputation for both salmon and trout fishing draws big crowds, yet a mid-weekday outing is better than a weekend. In some stretches it can be literally a rod's length from your neighbor on either side. In an attempt to avoid that, we focused on some nice pools resembling water we look for back home and did a decent job of holding them down. As much as you prepare yourself for a crowded Great Lake tributary, the scene can still make you shake your head at times. One must remember that there are few other places in the Northeast where you can find fish that large in rivers so small.

First light in western New York.

Bent rods and anglers lined shoulder to shoulder are common scenes on the Oak.

When it came to fishing style, we were in the minority on Oak Orchard. Most anglers employed the "chuck-n-duck" method, straight-line nymphing with ample lead, and, to their credit, were very effective. We nymphed very similarly to how we would of back home, with indicators. Our basic set up included a long fluorocarbon leader tapered to about 8.5-pound test with a Thingamabobber strike indicator and sufficient split shot above an offering of either sucker spawn or a bead. Like any type of indicator nymphing, the length of leader and amount of weight necessary below the indicator depended on the water depth and speed. Both beads and sucker spawn accounted for their fare share of trout throughout the trip, with some color patterns definitely standing out from others.

Trout food: a King salmon egg (left) and its TroutBead imitation.

For the most part, we were using 10 or 11-foot "switch" fly rods, which can cast like a two-handed spey rod, yet are light enough to be used one-handed as well. These long rods made for effortless casts, helping keep our arms fresh during marathon days. The backbone of the switch rod was another perk when it came to fighting large trout in tight quarters. A good net and competent people to wield it were also very important factors on this trip. We all got our cracks at netting fish for each other and, for the most part, did rather well. I won't name names, but the biggest steelhead of the trip was lost to an unlucky net job and became the butt of endless jokes that week. In the end, he made up for it and then some.

Tommy performing a "Snap C" cast with his switch rod.

The two and a half days of fishing the Oak were great overall. The action came in bursts, mostly hot mornings and afternoons with a slow pick in between. The size of the trout landed were impressive but very relative. If anyone of them was caught in a stream back home, it would have been the biggest deal since sliced bread. However, on a Great Lake tributary, a five-pound brown trout was hardly raising an eyebrow by the third morning. Many of the browns were sporting spawning colors and impressive kype jaws that never got old. Several of the females were fat and laden with eggs. Although mostly known for its brown trout, we also pricked a decent number of nice steelhead, which are praised for their fighting skills and acrobatics.

Derrick with a nice hen to start things off.

This magnificent brown was Aaron's first hookup of the trip.

Not large, but a very pretty female brown.

Kurt cradles one of the many quality browns that swam in from Lake Ontario.

"Open wide"

Tommy was the preferred 'net man' of the trip, but everyone had their share of the task.

My best brown from the Oak.

The beautiful fall foliage was an added bonus to the solid fishing.

Tommy with another nice Oak Oarchard brown.

This was the only Atlantic salmon of any size caught during the whole trip.

Showing up to the river on day one with zero sleep led to borderline insanity.

Kurt hoisting up another kype-jawed male.

The most handsome steelhead I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.

So far western New York was treating a bunch of Connecticut boys pretty well, but by day three the crowds and stench of decaying salmon had taken their toll. A group pow-wow led to the decision to move on to greener pastures and we said goodbye to Oak Orchard for final time of the trip. Little did we know that things were about to get a little more interesting with much larger fish in a stream about half the Oak's size.

Coming soon... Part II: Small Water, Big Fish

Trial Run

2011-10-30T22:58:00.004-04:00

Four buddies and I are on the verge of a week-long fishing excursion to western New York. Every fall, large trout descend from the Great Lakes into their tributaries to gorge on freshly laid salmon eggs. In turn, thousands of anglers are also drawn to these waterways to capitalize on the rich fishing opportunities. For the last several weeks, we have been prepping for the trip by tying flies and securing supplies. Andy, a friend who is not making the trek, graciously loaned me one vital piece of gear, a brand-spanking-new switch rod, which can be used with one or two hands and makes long casts seem effortless. Since I had never used one of these tools, I thought it wise to give it a trial run on a familiar piece of water before the big show in New York. I may have looked a little out of place on the Farmington River with a two-handed fly rod, but it was a productive session and I didn't catch a fish. Tommy, one of the trip veterans who has mastered switch (and spey) rod casting techniques, gave me some valuable pointers that I will soon put into practice.

We shove off on Tuesday evening after work and will spend five full days plying some of the most renowned trout waters in the Northeast. With any luck, we'll have some good photos and videos to share upon our return. Until then, follow along on our trophy trout mission via Twitter.

Photo credit: Tommy Baranowski

Note the yellow (appears green) elastomer tag behind the trout's right eye.

Change of Pace

2011-10-30T21:44:00.001-04:00

Just a week ago I was wearing a T-shirt while stocking up on winter bait. Ice fishing season sure felt a long way off before yesterday's record breaking Nor'easter abruptly brought New Englanders back to snow mode. My quarry on this outing were over-sized minnows called fallfish. Through trial and error, friends and I discovered that a number of gamefish we chase have a hard time refusing them for dinner, especially northern pike. Unlike some other baits that we use, these buggers can be taken on a hook and prove fiesty with light tackle. A fun and effective way to catch fallfish is with a small fly rod, as they will attack almost any decently presented fly with a vengeance. This particular outing yielded over a dozen specimen, many in dark spawning colors, though only one was worth taking home. Regardless of the result, it was a beautiful autumn afternoon spent in the woods with good action. Many other wild fish came to the hand, mostly small pumpkinseeds and bluegills. All the fish fell for a tiny pheasant tail nymph tied off the shank of a dry fly. Hopefully there's a few pleasant days on the horizon so I can acquire more free pike bait for the freezer. If this weekend was any indication, winter may be here sooner than we think.

The prized target species; this fallfish at about 8-inches long will be perfect pike bait.

October Blues

2011-10-23T22:31:00.000-04:00

It wasn't what we set out to catch, but this large bluefish kept us from going home with the goose egg on a crisp October night. Its jolting hit was a reminder to fish my offerings all the way back to my feet. I gave up on the retrieve while my live eel was still 10 yards away from me and started reeling quickly to get another cast off. The blue exploded on the bait a rod's length away and an entertaining fight ensued. Conditions were ideal and confidence was high, but we just couldn't get any stripers to cooperate. There are still some good weeks left of the so-called 'fall run' in these parts, although it will go fast. With any luck, I hope to hear the sweet sound of a screaming drag a few more times before the surf season is all said and done.

Photo credit: Derrick Kirkpatrick

Walks in the Woods

2011-10-19T23:38:00.000-04:00

Saltwater species have dominated my fishing time for the last few months. However, there is something about the fall that brings on the urge to stalk stream-born trout in a waterway skinnier than a car lane. Before last week, I had not tied on a nymph pattern since June, yet a size#18 pheasant tail stuck out like a sore thumb in my fly box as I knelt down on the bank. I dropped it off the hook-shank of a stimulator dry fly with a piece of fluorocarbon. The dry fly acted as a strike indicator and went under twice as trout ate my nymph. Getting outside was the goal, but a native brookie and wild brown trout were a welcomed bonus.

A few days later, my family took a hike along another beautiful small stream. No trout were caught, but a few fallfish, often referred to as dace, came to the hand via that same nymph pattern. Fallfish make great bait for northern pike, but these were too small to put in the freezer for ice fishing season. I think Murphy, the family golden retriever, had the most fun of all and spoiled many a good pool by jumping in before I could get a cast off.

The Marathon

2011-10-07T18:11:00.002-04:00

When water temperatures reach their highest point of the year in southern New England, we are payed a visit by a remarkable fish. Little tunny, also called false albacore or albies, highly prized for their fighting abilities, show up like clockwork each September. When they do, many saltwater anglers put everything on hold to chase these speedsters with light tackle. A few years ago, I experienced my first and only dose of this type of fishing, but it was enough to instill a lasting memory and hunger for more. This fall, I was lucky enough to get another shot at them.

Long-time fishing buddies Captain Blaine Anderson and Andrew Nichols partake in a weekly marathon of sorts on the water during the fall season. Mondays are their common day off from fishing-related jobs, which they spend fishing of all things. Their excursions together cover a wide range of species and angling methods, from drifting eels for trophy stripers to finesse-jigging golden pond shiners. Over the last few weeks, their attention has been mostly focused on the false albacore slashing through schools of baitfish in eastern Long Island Sound and beyond. The fishing was really good for a while; like double-digit-albies-per-person-good. They knew I was interested and recently invited me along for one of their Monday marathons. Unfortunately, that insane bite completely shut down just before our outing, but albies or not, we were determined to put some fish in the boat and have fun doing it.

The three of us assembled well before sunup at the Niantic River launch and loaded enough gear in Blaine's boat to outfit an Inuit fishing village. We were prepared for any kind of fish we could encounter throughout the day, especially since albie reports went cold. Through pea-soup fog, we slowly headed across Long Island Sound with Montauk in mind. I had never been to the eastern-most point of Long Island, often referred to as "The End." It's considered a fishing Mecca to many and is often found boiling with migrating bait and fish this time of year. Sadly, there were no wheeling birds and blitzes when we pulled up. There were still dozens of surfcasters dotting the shoreline and one lone wetsuit fisherman bobbing in the water a hundred yards off the beach. Several boats were also drifting for stripers along the rips well off the point. We eventually joined them after searching the inshore area extensively with zero signs of little tunny. After mustering only a few half-hearted hits on eels, the fog began to lift and we decided to locate greener pastures. If nothing else, it was awesome to see Montauk for the first time and I look forward to someday spending time there rock-hopping in the surf.

"The End"

We left one famed fishing destination and headed 13 miles east to another, Block Island. There we drifted along the western side of the Island and began jigging for black sea bass and porgies while keeping our eyes peeled for false albacore. This area is well known for its ground fishing and I could see why on the first drop of my offering. Fish were stacked like cordwood along the bottom in 40-feet of water and attacked our shiny metal lures known as Deadly Dicks like it was their last meal. The hits were explosive and easily felt with our light rods and braided line. It was loads of fun and reminded me a lot like the jigging I do for trout while ice fishing. A few dinner plate-sized porgies and respectable black sea bass came over the rail every couple minutes. We put a few on ice for dinner later that night and motored to a classic albie spot, the entrance to Block Island's New Harbor. Unfortunately, the area appeared liefless - no birds, no bait and no marks on the electronic fish-finder. So next up was the Block's North Rip, which usually has birds working over it, but this too looked like a dead sea. It was time for another big move and to Point Judith we went.

Photo credit: Capt. Blaine Anderson

By this time, the sun had won the battle over the fog and it started feeling like a July day instead of a late September one. The water in Block Island Sound was flat-calm, which aided our travel time back to the mainland. The short trip felt like a wink of an eye compared to what it takes on the traditional Block Island ferry that I'm used to. The specific area in our sights was the West Wall; a rocky breakwall protecting Point Judith's Harbor of Refuge, which also serves as a desirable ambush spot for certain game fish. The West Wall is usually the first spot in Rhode Island that migrating schoolie stripers show up to every spring. It's also one of the Ocean State's most consistent false albacore spots for shore-bound anglers each fall. Things looked promising at first with millions of tiny bay anchovies milling about the area. They are sometimes called rain bait because that's what it looks like when they are balled up and dimpling the water's surface. Unfortunately, we only saw one lone splash that wasn't enough to keep us around. After 15 minutes of waiting and blind-casting to no avail, we hugged the shoreline heading westward.

The inshore cruise along the South County coast was very cool to me as a surfcaster. It allowed me to scope out some of the places that I surf fish at night from a different perspective during daylight. We passed a clan of surfers at Matunuck, then the three well-known breachways, Charlestown, Quonochontaug (Quonny), and Weekapaug, all of which were void of activity. Next up was Watch Hill Reef that had more than a dozen small boats drifting in the rip, each waiting for the same fish to show. One thing that got everyone's attention was a massive U.S. Coast Guard (USCG) vessel that was smack dab in the middle of the Reef, collecting, cleaning, and putting back buoys that serve as vital navigational markers. It was surprising to see how big the buoys were and how much of them we can't see resting under the surface of the water. The USCG personnel on deck looked tiny standing next to them.

We eventually left the circus atmosphere and poked around Wicopesset Passage off the eastern tip of Fisher's Island. The tide was ripping out too fast to anchor or drift effectively, but we managed a few more porgies before noticing a couple birds acting 'fishy'. Blaine hammered down the throttle and we shot around the south side of Fisher's Island where we spent the longest portion of the trip. It was a much more welcoming scene compared to what we left at Watch Hill, with just one or two boats slowly working the area. A few terns immediately caught our attention hovering over the water a hundred yards off the Island. Under the birds was a subtle yet tell-tale splash of a false albacore, followed by another. It wasn't a large pod of fish, but it was the first we'd seen after 100 miles of searching.

Blaine put us in position and cut the engine far enough way not to spook them, but still within casting range. What happened next was like a fire drill; the three of us rushed to put lures in front of the elusive fish before they sounded and popped up somewhere else. My two partners chose soft-plastic baits while I opted for the classic Deadly Dick. Blaine was ripping his bait in with slight twitches when it was pounced on. The next few minutes is what the chase is all about - the fight. These torpedoes make blistering runs and will test the drag washers in a reel instantly. Their speed and strength for their size is unmatched by any fish that visits Long Island Sound. After the pod moved out of range, Andrew and I just watched Blaine play his fish and captured some footage and photographs. Albies are definitely not known for being good table fare, so back in the drink it went and back to the races we went.

Photo credit: Andrew Nichols

The casting distance of a one-ounce Deadly Dick was far superior to any plastic bait on board, but what good was that if feeding fish wanted nothing to do with it. So I switched it out for a new soft-plastic that I picked up at a local tackle shop, cleverly dubbed Albie Snax. The small Connecticut company, Long Cast Plastics, certainly lived up to its name with their denser, heavier offerings that helped reach distant targets. With a quick retrieve and twitches from the rod tip, the skinny white baits darted erratically, mimicking a fleeing baitfish well.

After few more minutes of plying the area, Blaine hooked a large bluefish that followed a Sebile Magic Swimmer right next to the boat. Meanwhile, Andrew and I kept casting to another small pod of little tunny that popped up within range. Finally, something exploded on my bait, which, for a brief moment, I thought could have been another bluefish. That notion was thrown right out the window when the false albacore kicked it up a notch and started dumping line off my spool. It was a classic scene on the deck with a big blue and a bull-dogging albie both doing figure-eights around the boat. After a thrilling fight, I grabbed the skinny section above the albie's hard tail and hoisted it out of the water. Blaine released his toothy bycatch and snapped a photo of me with my hard-earned fish and shit-eating grin.

Photo credit: Capt. Blaine Anderson

It seemed like there were small groups of albies doing laps in the general area. So instead of running them down, we drifted along proven grounds and waited for them to come to us. In between laughs while jigging for porgies and sea bass, we'd occasionally see little tunny breaking the surface in the distance, but it was never lock and load like the week before or, as I'd later find out, the week after. Eventually, Andrew latched on to one of the speedsters, completing the trifecta of each of us landing one of the target species. After farting around behind Fisher's Island for a while longer, it was time to start the trek back to the boat launch, where more work awaited us. I give credit to boat owners on how much maintenance goes into it. Back in the lot, Blaine went to town filleting my dinner as Andrew and I scrubbed down the boat and rinsed all the gear. It was late in the afternoon by quitting time, nearly 12 hours after the trip started, and I was beat! Hats off to those two who do a marathon trip every Monday.

In my eyes, the day was an overwhelming success before we even boated a false albacore. I had seen and fished several places that I had never before, I checked black sea bass off my species-to-catch list, I went home with a bag of delicious fillets that fed three households, and I fished for the first time with two highly knowledgeable anglers, both who shared their experience along the way. Last but not least, I scratched the itch of the scrappy little tunny. I'd call that a mission accomplished...

Photo credit: Capt. Blaine Anderson

The 208-foot Thomas Jefferson, a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration ship, mapping the sea floor.

Daylight Delight

2011-09-23T21:13:00.002-04:00

One of the best things about surfcasting the 'fall run' is that it's actually worth fishing during the daytime again. Even just a couple weeks ago, I wouldn't have bothered testing the waters while the sun was out. Inshore water temperatures on summer days are usually too warm for striped bass to wander within casting range of surf fishermen. That's why we forgo sleep on weeknights and look disheveled at the office the following day. Now that fall is here and water temperatures are beginning to drop, stripers are putting on the feedbag and dining in shallow water.

This week a friend and I pricked several nice fish under bright skies in Long Island Sound, on live eels no less. One of the fish that was hooked was in a class above all the rest. My fishing partner Kurt fought it for what felt like an eternity before the fish cut his 60-pound monofilament leader on a boulder in front of us. The bulldog of a bass never showed itself, but we both knew it was something special. Fish like that will keep us going back until there's ice in our guides. Thinking the night bite would be just as good if not better, we returned to the scene of the crime and were shut out two nights in a row. Then on the following day the action picked right up again...go figure.

It's time to change up those summer time patterns and to put your fall thinking caps on. Fish have one thing on their minds and that's fattening up before they head to wherever they spend the winter months. That means that stripers will act and feed differently now than they did in July or August. That also means surfcasters must start fishing for them differently too.

Photo credit: Kurt Daniello

The Longest Day

2011-09-18T18:42:00.000-04:00

I posted this story on CTFisherman.com on November 26, 2007. It's an account of my last surfcasting trip of that season, which was one of the most valuable in terms of knowledge and experience gained. The story was written before this blog existed, but I thought it was worth digging up and sharing here.

The longest day began at 1:30 AM when Paul pulled into my driveway. He wouldn’t let me into the truck without a pair of Korkers, so I knew we were headed a serious fishing destination. We soon departed for Long Beach, NY, to pick up the third & final surfcaster. After loading Chris’s gear into the truck and awing over his Beach Master plug collection, we’re driving over sand in no time.

There was an hour of darkness and a few hours of flood tide left when we arrived at the widow-maker jetty at Breezy Point. I was told that too many good surfcasters have died here and to follow my partners closely. They weren’t kidding – this was by far the hairiest patch of rocks I’ve ever laid foot on. After a 10 minute white-knuckle walk, we were not greeted by the lone angler tossing plugs off the end. With the help of a full moon, I soon glanced at one of the strongest rips, within casting distance of shore, which I had ever seen. The three of us posted up on different rocks and began a rotation of tossing eels, letting line drift in the rip about 100 yards, and retrieving slowly.

As fishy as this place looked, it was slow going. I eventually landed an obese 26” striper, which little did we know it would be the only fish of the trip. At the first hints of daybreak, our live eels were replaced with bucktail jigs. There are stacks of books written on this style of fishing, yet I have just begun to wade into it. From what I could tell, these guys, with their hand-tied three and four-ounce bucktails and pork rind trailers, knew what they were doing. As good as the action at this spot was only a week before, it seemed the fish and bait moved offshore. Soon the rising sun revealed acres of birds working on the horizon in deeper water. The boatmen pouring out of the harbors must have had banner days as we could only watch with disgust.

The rest of the morning we had show-and-tell with our plug bags, made trades and test swam custom lures. I am sorry to say that after several seasons and many striped bass, my Team Daiwa surf rod snapped while making a routine cast with a pencil popper. Our educated guess was there was a hairline fracture in the blank and that particular cast was the straw that broke the camel's back. As horrible as the snapping sound was, the thought of a new hand-wrapped Lamiglas custom rod built by a fellow club member in the near future cheered me up.

After a few more fun but uneventful hours of running the beach looking for bass within casting range we called it a day. On our way home, we stopped in West End Bait & Tackle to poke around. We walked in on local sharpies swapping stories and smoking cigarettes. On the walls of this small shop hung what the owner claimed to be Long Island’s largest selection of custom plugs. Despite the overwhelming selection, I knew what my plug bag lacked and picked up my first Super Strike darter, a yellow over pearl tried and true fish-catcher.

Paul wanted more eels for his tank at home and we were hoping for a few monsters to skin as well. Sure enough with one scoop of the net, I saw Loch Ness stick her head out. She was not alone. In total we pulled out four huge eels, all over 20-inches long and thick as a brick. The young shop-hand said he would skin one for me, as I had never seen it done in person. He dropped in a few cigarettes into a bucket and the nicotine in the tobacco caused eels seizure and die within a few minutes. The sharpie-in-training then skinned the snake and put it into a Ziploc for my ride home.

After our skinning demo, an old timer with a handle bar mustache walked into the shop, sat down and started eating lunch. To no one in particular, he started spewing out knowledge that was hard to keep up with. For an hour we listened to this guy without realizing yet that it was Billy the Greek, one of Long Island’s most legendary striped bass anglers. Once I realized who we were listening to, I looked over my shoulder and saw his book on the shelf called “Night Tides.” That humbling experience was the trip’s icing on the cake and my only wish was to retain the information that was shared in that shop.

After battling choked New York highways and downing multiple Red Bulls to stay awake, I arrived back in my driveway at 8 PM, rinsed my gear and passed out to dreams about Long Island’s south shore. Although the actual fishing left much to be desired, I learned more valuable information in one day than some anglers do in several months.

The $25,000 Fish

2011-09-08T21:21:00.001-04:00

In spirit of this weekend's WICC bluefish tournament, I felt motivated to put a few words and photographs together about the yellow-eyed devils that so many anglers love to hate. Although not cherished or respected half as much as striped bass, pound for pound, bluefish fight harder than any fish in Long Island Sound. Their famous acrobatics and drag-screaming runs help make up for the damage they afflict on terminal tackle and bait supplies. They can reach weights in excess of 20-pounds and are mean sons-of-bitches when it comes to removing hooks after capture. Bluefish are fierce predators that feed past the point of being full and puke up their last meal just to eat more. I think I'm not alone is saying that I'd rather swim with sharks than in the midst of blitzing gator blues.

In September of 2006, friends and I capitalized on a few-week span when giant bluefish ranging from 15 to 20-pounds had a large school of adult bunker pinned against a sandbar night after night. The fishing was stupid good. Anything you tied on the end of your line was coming back battle-scarred (if it came back at all). The largest chopper I caught during that stretch ripped two of three treble hooks off my Atom 40 plug and was puking up full bunker on shore. To this day it still ranks as the largest blue I've ever landed. That memorable chapter of fishing ingrained in me a deep respect for the mighty bluefish.

This weekend's tournament kicks off at 12:01 AM Saturday night and will come to a close at 5 PM on Sunday. All waters within Long Island Sound are open game and the heaviest bluefish caught on a hook and line will earn one lucky angler $25,000. Let me say that again; $25K for a bluefish! The tournament was originally scheduled when Hurricane Irene hit two weeks ago, so blues have had extra time to fatten up on the cornucopia of baitfish in the Sound right now. It would be nice to see some gators on the leader board that rival the heydays of the tournament when 18-pounders were commonplace. I myself have never entered this tournament. It would have a stronger appeal to me if there was a standalone surf division, instead of us directly competing with boat anglers. I'm told a surfcasting category was given a shot a few years ago, but not again since. Perhaps the powers-at-be will try again in the future, especially if they looking for new blood.

Goodnight Irene

2011-08-28T22:51:00.001-04:00

Hurricane Irene made landfall along the Connecticut coast on the morning of August 28, 2011. Even though she had weakened significantly by then, it was still an extremely large system that packed a serious punch here. Strong winds brought down countless trees, branches and powerlines, leaving over 600,000 people in the dark across the state. However, it was Irene's storm surge, combined with an exceptionally high tide in Long Island Sound because of the new moon phase, that wreaked the most havoc along shoreline towns.

My hometown of Milford was directly in Irene's cross hairs. After the worst of the storm had passed, many residents braved the elements and hit the road to survey the damage. It was a pretty wild day filled with scenes that I won't soon forget. Here are some photos and a brief video documenting Irene's aftermath in Milford. Fortunately, it wasn't much worse as originally anticipated. Over the next week, we'll begin to see what affects, if any, that Irene had on the fishing scene around the region.

Photo credit: Michael Mayo

Heartbreaker

2011-08-17T18:25:00.001-04:00

Finding a broken artifact while surface-hunting is more common than coming across a full, intact piece, in this day and age at least. As my uncle and mentor has told me more than once, "There are only crumbs left." This morning was no different, except that I was very surprised when I saw these two broken pieces laying right next to each other. Was this point broken and discarded by the man who made it? Or, was it lost on a hunt and broken sometime in the hundreds or thousands of years since? More likely the latter, but one can only wonder. Regardless, it was a hell of a way to start a Wednesday. Now into the shadow-box table it goes with the other crumbs.

The Pickpocket

2011-08-12T18:28:00.007-04:00

American eels, rocky areas and late tides continue to add up for large striped bass in Long Island Sound. The spots may have changed, yet the tactics and results remain the same. After a recent honey hole dried up, it was time to dipstick neglected haunts for a pulse. Early this week, at a locale much closer to home, one lone 14-pound bass was caught between four anglers. Not the results we had hoped for, but a keeper-sized striper from shore in August can be a small victory in itself.

Last night, we hatched a different game plan. Will, Aaron and I focused on two areas in the eastern Sound that I hadn't fished in two seasons. These were known 'big fish' spots that had flexed their muscles to us in the past. The tide was turning from slack to ebb when we arrived to the first location. The moon was so bright that we didn't need headlamps to light our path along the rocks. Despite the well-lit sky, we could still make out the occasional shooting star thanks to the Perseid Meteor Shower.

Confidence was high at first, but it slowly waned after drifting eels for a few hours with not one hit to show for it. Aaron switched to a soft-plastic bait on a wobble-head tin that looked very sexy in the current. Will ventured off to try other spots within the spot. I added a small egg sinker above my offering to get down a little deeper. None of the adjustments helped the cause. The decision was made to cut our losses. We arrived at spot number two about half way down in the outgoing tide. Will donned the wetsuit while Aaron and I chose waders. The wetsuit let Will get out a little farther than us, but on this night it wouldn't matter.

After he waded through neck-deep water and found his perch, Aaron and I flanked his left and right. I clambered up on a giant boulder, not giving much thought about how I would land fish from it. On just my third drift, something heavy inhaled my eel and I drove the hook home hard. Instantly, it tail-slapped the surface and took off like a banshee. I didn't call for assistance until the fish pushed water for the second time and really showed her size. Will couldn't hear me between the wind and water, but Aaron made his way over to lend a hand. When the bass came close, I used the roost to my advantage and steered the fish into a crevice between boulders. Aaron risked water going over his waders as he clutched the lip of a 44-inch striped bass.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

The fish that lay across my lap was the second longest striper I had ever landed. If it wasn't my heaviest, it was very close. Except for a notch in the caudal fin, it was in perfect shape. The warm water and lengthy fight had taken its toll though. There were a few moments where I thought I would be lugging out the hefty bass back to my truck. However, I didn't give up on her and cradled the bass in current as I felt life slowly creeping back in. It took a full 15 minutes for me to comfortably let go of the fish in the shallows for a trial run. After passing, I brought her out to deeper water where she kicked from my hands. As awesome of a feeling it is to land a nice fish, releasing one is that much more rewarding.

Aaron climbed on the rock where I had hooked the bass and started bombarding the area with casts. After getting my act together, I fished off a rock to his left. Will, unaware of what just went down, continued working the water to our west. For another hour, we covered every inch of the place without another touch. Just one one bump, one fish; right after waltzing in. And as we were walking out, Will finally heard the story and turned right back around for more. With the alarm clock sounding in just a few hours, Aaron and I hit the road after another memorable night.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Potential World Record Striped Bass

2011-08-06T18:33:00.001-04:00

On Thursday, August 4, 2011, a potential world record striped bass was caught in my home waters of Long Island Sound. On Friday morning, On The Water called and asked me to cover the story for them. This is what happened: Potential World Record Striper

Dialed In

2011-08-04T23:50:00.000-04:00

As much as surfcasting is in my blood, it's always a treat fishing productive stretches of shoreline from a boat. Not dealing with taxing walks over rocks is one of the bigger perks. Another is the amount of ground that can be covered efficiently. Some dyed-in-the-wool surf fisherman may claim that catching striped bass from a boat is 'cheating', but I bet my best rigged eel that none of them would have turned down this trip.

After working late one recent evening, I met Mike & Derrick at the boat launch just before 10 PM. We had to hurry to catch the last of the low-incoming tide, which had been fishing well lately. It was a beautiful, calm night and the dark sky was littered with stars. There wasn't another boat in sight and the shoreline was devoid of headlamps. Things happened fast and furious when Mike cut the engine. My second cast produced the first hookup of the night. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bluefish that severed my leader. Not a big deal I originally thought, but before I had time to tie another rig on, a wave of large striped bass moved in and the melee began.

The captain struck first and by the sound of his screaming drag we knew it was a better fish. After a couple good runs, it surfaced boat side and Derrick lipped her as I snapped away with a camera that usually doesn't see saltwater action. It was also nice having Mike's 60-pound Boga onboard, so we didn't have to ponder the weights of our fish. This one was a clean 32-pounder and a great way to start the night.

Immediately after that bass was released, I went back to tying a Uni-knot when Derrick hooked up on his next drift. The fish pushed a good amount of water on the surface giving us a hint to its size. The blistering runs that ensued gripped our attention as she sped away from the boat. Eventually, as the bass tired and drew closer to us, we were treated to amazing trails of bioluminesence in its wake. Mike soon corralled the leader and buried his hand in the maw of the 37-pound bass, which the tape revealed at just around 46-inches long. The trip wasn't 30-minutes old before two bass over 30-pounds were caught and released.

After some photos and a successful release, I finally had a chance to finish retying my rig. Of course by then things had quieted down, at least in terms of size of the fish eating our eels. The good thing was that a slow and steady pick of smaller bass, ranging from 22-pounds to schoolies, remained for the rest of the incoming tide. All the while, a lack of wind allowed us to make real nice drifts tight to shore without having to jockey the boat around much. After a lull, the captain decided to make one final pass in front of an erratic boulder before moving west a few miles. On cue, my eel was slowly taken by a heavy fish right in the money zone. She was all business right from the hook set and took off like a bat out of hell. My 8-foot rod was bitched and braided line was pouring off the reel at a dizzying rate. Not able to do much other than hold on, my heart sank to my stomach as the 40-pound main line went slack. There was no rubbing or chaffing, the braid was sliced by a rock like a hot knife through butter. As difficult as it is to judge, I still believe that it was one of the larger bass I'd ever come in contact with. Oh well, that's fishing!

Rightfully so, the lost fish kept us around a bit longer before the decision was made to hightail it for a dipstick at another one of Mike's haunts. If nothing else, it would give a rest to the water we had hammered for a few hours. So we left fish to find fish and you may be able to guess what happened next; we came up empty at spot number two. After about a half hour with only a cigar'd eel to show, we floored it back to the original location for the beginning of the outgoing tide. The bass were right where we left them and some larger ones seemed to be around again. I hooked up on what felt like a decent fish, but it didn't really put on the afterburners until it got up to the boat. A close-quarters battle ensued before Mike lipped the bass and I joined the 30-pound club for the night.

Not long after the fish kicked away from my hands, Derrick came tight to another. And again, the noise his reel's drag was making suggested it was a quality bass. Mike and I held off casting to avoid any trouble while Derrick fought her to the boat. After the Boga disclosed that it was 31-pounds, he revived it as I got some photos of the release. That made the fourth and final bass over the 30-pound mark for the night.

I wish the second wave of large lasted longer, but it was over as quickly as it started. After Derrick's last fish, we were running low on eels and the clock showed 2 AM. It was a weeknight and unfortunately, some of us had a thing called work in the morning. Energy drinks were cracked and a few last casts were made before heading back to the launch. It had been a hell of a night with some real nice fish and good laughs. Hopefully it won't be too long before we're back out there again, pitching eels and waiting for a bump.

Good Predictions

2011-08-01T22:55:00.002-04:00

Editor's note: This is the first guest post on The Connecticut Yankee, written by my long-time friend and fishing partner Aaron Swanson.

My fishing partners have been making good on their predictions this year. Right around the time of the herring run this spring, while fishing a tidal river, Derrick proclaimed to Kierran and me that one of us would be getting a new personal best (PB) from one our rocky locales out east as the summer progressed. Last week, Kierran said that before long it would be him on the other side of the camera, documenting rather than experiencing, another personal best. They both turned out to be right.

The July new moon occurred on the 30th this year, but our mid-summer surf schedule has generally carried our nighttime efforts through two calendar days. In this case, the turn from the 30th to the 31st marked my 28th birthday. I caught my first striped bass, a keeper nonetheless, on my 22nd six years ago (after trying for nearly a year) and have tried to make it a point to fish the date with each passing year. While I haven’t caught every year on that outing, I managed the best present I could ask for this time around.

Strategy in the dog days is usually the same. While fishing in the western Sound can be good, the somewhat cooler waters of the east have historically provided better action for us. Proximity to deep water, prominent rocks, current, eels, and foregone sleep are generally the keys to finding some fish in Long Island Sound from shore in August.

The long walk to this spot can be a bit of a drain, but after a quick breather we were in action. My lack of a wetsuit wasn’t as important this time as it was the prior week because the full tide had us pushed up against the shoreline. Kierran continued his hot hand, hooking landing and releasing 2 fish, one in the near 20-pound range before the tide started to crank, moving the current seam we were plying out of our casting distance and taking the action with it. To this point, all Derrick and I could manage were bumps and missed hook-ups. A break for a Red Bull and some discussion of a short walk led us to move a few hundred yards west, where we were able to reconnect with the current that had moved out of our reach.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

We were immediately tuned to the presence of fish as we each had bumps in our first couple of casts. I was first to hook up and land a mid-teen fish before Kierran kept us going with a near clone of his first. This fish was hooked deep and went home to his table. He landed another smaller fish, and I dropped a bluefish before a bit of a lull had us thinking about heading back where we started. We decided we’d take a couple more casts and then move again. Kierran fortuitously told me to “make them count”.

I had a subtle take on my next cast and hauled back but didn’t make great contact. Figuring the fish was coming at me I caught up, felt more pressure and set again for good measure. It’s probably a good thing I did because the fight that ensued would test my tackle. The fish sulked for a while and had me thinking it was probably similar in size to the others we had taken thus far. Then my rod flattened out and line dumped off my spool. The new moon current aided the fish in its attempt to head for Long Island and my rod and braid groaned under the pressure. I managed to turn the fish and we had a standoff before I finally started to move her toward me before trading line back and forth; I don’t know how long it lasted but it seemed like forever. She moved some water in tight and our lights shown on a gaping bucket-mouth. My partners grabbed and subdued her and as we went about getting ready to get a couple pictures I went to wipe what I thought was some weed off of the fish’s flank and found a tag. It was the first time I had seen one of those in person – pretty cool and I’m looking forward to finding out where and when she was tagged. Like a week before, the 30-pound Boga on Derrick’s belt wouldn’t do any good reading this fish so I’ll be happy to stick with the 43-inch measurement we got. She bested my old PB by only a half inch but being as thick as she was I’d venture to guess she had a few pounds over her predecessor.

Photo credit: Kierran Broatch

After a successful release, we probed the area for another hour or so before we lost the tide and depth we needed and we called it a night. After I reached my front door around five in the morning, I realized I didn’t drive home so much as float. I couldn’t have been more thankful to take my turn at a new best, under the circumstances, another year, good friends, enjoying myself in the best way I know how.

Editor's note: I usually release most of my striped bass and it's not because I don't like to eat them. Much of the decision is with conservation in mind; the other part is because it's not fun walking with a heavy bass after fishing all night, then filleting it when the sun is coming up. However, cooking and eating a fish that I just harvested from the sea is a cool feeling once in a while. Having family and friends enjoy it with me only adds to the experience.

One of the fun things after keeping a fish is checking its stomach contents. When I reached into the belly of this bass and felt a large snack in there, I was guessing in my mind what it could be. It turns out it was a partially digested summer flounder (fluke) about a foot long. It was awesome to see the food chain at work - a striped bass sucks down a fluke off the bottom, then falls for my eel, then ends up on my dinner table. The striper steaks were covered in red onion, garlic, butter, and olive oil, then wrapped in tinfoil and essentially baked on the grill until the thick fillets were cooked through. It was delicious.

Night of Nights

2011-07-25T23:06:00.000-04:00

Anyone who's been fishing for striped bass for a long time knows that the word 'fishing' rather than 'catching' is better applied because the act of catching makes up such a small part of the obsession. The hours spent reading, preparing, driving, walking, casting, and retrieving far outweigh the time spent hooking, fighting, photographing, and releasing or filleting our quarry. That is what makes the nights when we do go large that much greater. For me, last Saturday was one of those nights while standing on a rock in Long Island Sound.

The ferocious heat wave that was gripping the Northeast gave no signs of letting up. Fishing during the coolest part of the night made the most sense, yet the thermometer still read 80 degrees as we began our long walk from the vehicles. Wetsuits and water bottles were carried in backpacks and 15 good-sized eels, live but subdued from bags of ice, were brought in two small buckets.  It's well known that fishing eels after dark is a proven summertime tactic and that wetsuits can help reach casting platforms that traditional waders won't allow.

The three of us were soaked in sweat upon arrival to headquarters for the night. After a breather and a round of hydration, we found suitable perches and began casting our eels and crawling them in interspersed with slight twitches. The tide was in its final stages of going out and a light breeze was blowing out of the west. The conditions were perfect for a thin wetsuit and it felt very refreshing in the water. It didn't take long for the first tap of the night. It was a small bass, but it was a good sign; there were fish around. Being Derrick's birthday, I fully expected him to hook a big present wrapped in seven stripes at any minute. However, it was a wave of bluefish that soon showed up and sawed off half of our eel supply in mere minutes.  The executive decision was made for a pow-wow on shore to wait out the blues and for the tide to turn.

It turned out to be the right move. After the switch to flood tide, we again waded out and began peppering the area with eels, and that's when the melee started. The next take of my eel felt like any other bass, but when I lowered the 10-foot rod and drove the hook home, I knew it was a good one.  The initial run almost peeled my footing from the rock I was on and braided line was ripping from my Van Staal in long bursts. It was an excellent fight in shallow water and the few short minutes it lasted felt like eons.  The bass made some impressive runs and thrashes before tiring out and before Derrick put a Kung Fu grip on her jaw. Aaron was landing a teen-sized bass at the same time and came over to snap a photo for me after his release.  There was no scale between us, yet a tape measure revealed it was 42.5-inches long. Even without weighing it, I had safely bested my previous best surf-caught bass by a few pounds.

(Photo credit: Aaron Swanson)

Other than a small chunk missing from one its dorsal fins, the bass was perfect with great color, thick shoulders and a nice belly. After a few photos, I walked her out to deeper water and started the reviving process. Not surprisingly, the fight in warm water did a number on the bass. It took a couple minutes of cradling the fish in current before she kicked away with vigor. My partners went back to their rocks and I collected myself and put on a new eel. We all knew there could be, and most likely were, more and bigger bass where that came from.

Not much time passed before another amazing specimen found my offering. The foot-long eel had just hit the water when it was picked up again, and I didn't hesitate to wail back and set the hook hard. Having just felt the strength of nice specimen, I knew this one was in the same league or better. The mist shooting off my line that was screaming from the reel looked like smoke in the dark. The blistering runs had my rod flattened out to its cork-tape handle. Still out of sight, the fish surfaced and moved enough water to disclose that she was large and in charge. When our headlamps finally shone light on her, Derrick grabbed the leader, lipped the bass and walked it to shore as I trailed behind in awe. The measuring tape read 44.5-inches long and it felt noticeably heavier than the previous fish. It was then when I realized I had broken my all-time best striper caught from a boat three years earlier.

After a brief photo shoot, I brought the fish into cooler water and gently rocked it back and forth, forcing water through her gills. Again, it took several minutes before this fish regained strength and tail-slapped out of my hands. Even though I longed for a 60-pound Boga-Grip to know its true weight, it didn't really matter. I had fought, landed and released a trophy striped bass in the surf and it felt damn good!

You'd have a crazy look on your face too... (Photo credit: Aaron Swanson)

Floored is probably the best word to describe how I was feeling at that moment. I had just caught two of the best fish of my life within 30 minutes of each other with my best friends there to witness and assist. Now knowing a school of nice fish was in the vicinity, they hurriedly returned to their platforms and got back at it. I took some deep breaths and soaked it all in before returning to the rock that produced all the excitement. It was the birthday boy who hooked up next to my right in short order. Wanting to return the favor of landing a fish, I waded over and waited as he played a 39-inch bass to his feet. I lipped the well-fed bass and we went about taking a photo and releasing her. It was a very respectable bass from shore in late July, and on many nights, it would have been the high-hook.

Derrick added a 39-incher afterwards for good measure.

By this point of the night we were down to our last few eels. And as quickly as they left, another wave of bluefish moved through and ended our night sooner than we would have liked. They were so hungry that after being left with a cigar of an eel, I casted out, hooked up and was broken off on the next cast. After the last eel in the bucket had been used, Derrick resorted to his lone Slug-Go, which soon fell victim to the teeth of another yellow-eyed devil. He and I retreated to shore and watched Aaron stick it out for a while longer hoping for another cow-sized bass to swim past. It didn't happen. Regardless, we collectively had one hell of a summer night of surfcasting in Connecticut. As always, it was a team effort and before long it will be one of my partners who have the night of their career with me behind the camera.

Eel Karma

2011-07-21T00:01:00.001-04:00

For the last five years, I've been lucky enough to work for an organization that is devoted to protecting and improving one of my favorite places; Long Island Sound. My position revolves around outreach and volunteer coordination, which, from time to time, requires public speaking and education about Sound-related topics. Last Saturday, for example, I staffed a small festival in New Haven. It was a celebration of the West River and an opportunity for kids in an inner-city environment to learn about their watershed through various organizations and activities.

Save the Sound is working on a major habitat restoration project along this river, which entails replacing three of 12 aging tide gates that will greatly increase tidal flow and fish passage. To tie in the project and fish passage for the kids, I purchased eels from a tackle shop and brought them along with me to the festival. The vast majority of them had never seen an eel up close before and learned all about these resilient creatures. Afterwards, they named each one and released them into the river with a second lease on life. It was a cool moment on a hot day for all those involved, especially the eels.

Later on, I made plans with Derrick and Kurt for a night of surfcasting for striped bass. Captain Mike from Reel Cast Charters fished the same piece of eastern Sound shoreline by boat the previous night and was rewarded with a 35-pound striper on what else but an eel. Derrick picked some up on his way home from fishing the Farmington River and we soon drove east with a bright moon overhead. After a good walk in waders on a warm night, we were drenched upon arrival to the chosen spot. The three of us set up shop in close proximity, casting and retrieving for an hour without a sniff. I eventually broke from the pack and got my first bump of the night, which turned out to be a small sub-keeper bass. Another 20 minutes went by before my next strike, but this time it was a better fish. A nice fight and a few peels of drag soon led to a striper around 18-pounds. With the warm water temperatures, it took a good time reviving it before she kicked off.

I was pretty stoked by this point. I had two more hits on the same eel before it was rendered useless and I had to walk back to the group for another out of the bucket. Derrick had released a small bass too, but when I told them about the four I came in contact with we all walked the hundred yards back to the large rock I was fishing from. A few drifts later with a fresh eel, I felt a nice take, but not a lot of pull. The fight was rather uneventful until it got very close to me and kicked it up a few notches. It was pushing much more water than the other two bass I landed already, so I had a feeling it was decent-sized. And it was. A healthy striped bass somewhere in the low 20-pound range was hooked deeper than I would have liked, which explained the poor fight. I immediately cut the line and after a quick photo, she kicked off stronger than any other fish that night. The way hooks rust in a saltwater environment, I'm pretty confident that bass will be hook-free in the near future.

That proved to be the last action of the night and I was flying high the for the long walk then drive back. The safety Red Bull wasn't needed after that trip; the adrenaline would get me home wide awake. I had the hot hand that night and I think the eel karma from earlier in the day payed off!

Photo credit: Kurt Daniello

Brotherly Guiding

2011-07-19T00:26:00.001-04:00

The more time that I spend on the water, the more I want to share my experiences with those around me. One of my brothers has lived in California for the last decade and more. It's crazy for me to think about how many times that I've run up to the Farmington River since then, yet he'd still never fished there. So when the stars and moon aligned during his most recent visit home, we didn't hesitate to jump at the chance.

You could tell it was a weekday when we arrived to a popular stretch after 7 AM and there wasn't another soul around. It was already warm out and the cold river was cloaked in a morning fog. It had been well over a month since my last trip and everything was now much greener and jungle-thick. The trout's primary food sources and patterns had changed as well. First, we took a sample of the stream bottom with a seine net to see what was on the menu. The predominant insect found was a fast-swimming mayfly nymph known as the isonychia. An appropriate match was tied on, along with a heavier golden stonefly as an anchor, and I began to teach my brother a little about nymphing for trout.

The next few hours flew by, but not before leaving their mark. The fishing was admittedly hard, but Gavin caught on quickly and was presenting good drifts in short order. After getting his bearings in a fast, thigh-high riffle, we moved to the head of a small pool that was running slower and gin-clear. I scaled back his tippet size and put on a lighter anchor fly. The initial pass came tight and quickly went slack, yet not before he felt his first trout on a fly rod. Then a few drifts later, Gavin latched on to one that gave him an idea of what big Farmington browns are all about. It made a B-line downstream, gave a few violent head-shakes and ultimately severed his line - all in about four Mississippi's. Hooking a fish of that caliber alone is a small milestone for an introductory trip, so we were both psyched and pissed in the same breath. I knew we may not see another chance like that so I beat myself up until I remembered why we were truly there. We cut our losses (no pun intended) and moved downstream so he could see more of the wild & scenic river.

Photo credit: Gavin Broatch

The tough fishing continued at the next two stops, although a small rainbow and brown trout came to the hand during instruction. Gavin would eventually hook and land his first fish on a fly, albeit not the target species. It was a lively Atlantic salmon parr; the product of a wildly successful trout-feeding program. Not the least bothered by the lack of our own success, we soaked in every bit of our time on the river. The air was extremely warm by quittin' time, but the water kept us cool and revealed leaks in each pair of my waders! On the way home, we stopped at renowned, old timey hot dog joint for a pickup order and ate a solid lunch with the family to round out the experience. It then dawned on me that, God willing, it would be at least another year, maybe more, before my brother and I would fish together again. Nonetheless, it was a day well spent and one that won't soon be forgotten.

Good times...

Any Given Cast

2011-07-15T00:40:00.002-04:00

Block Island is are arguably the pinnacle when it comes to all-time striper fishing grounds. Peter Vican's recent 77-pounder, while certainly the most notable, is just one of countless historic catches from her waters. And since Block's fabled boulder fields are only a 14.7 mile ferry ride from Galilee, Rhode Island, which is a reasonable 100 mile drive from my door, trips on short notice are doable. With positive surf reports and a new moon phase ushering in, the decision was made for an all-nighter over 4th of July weekend. Some contacts had done well plugging from the surf earlier in the week, so hopes were high as the trip neared.

Two friends and I reserved spots for the last high-speed ferry over to the Island on a Friday night. Leading up to the one-night binge, hours were spent rigging eels, changing rusty hooks, and tying new leaders. We were eager and prepared. Between bikes and wetsuits, we planned on moving around and fishing hard. When the day came, we gave ourselves more than three hours to make it to the dock, which normally takes about 90 minutes normally. However, with Friday rush-hour coinciding with a holiday weekend, we rolled into Point Judith just in time and zigzagged between vacationers with only enough gear to last 12 hours. Without a 4x4 vehicle, there was no need for the traditional ferry. The high-speed boat cut more than a half hour off our sailing time, which sounds a lot better on the way home.

The extra $9 for the high-speed ferry out of Point Judith is worth every penny if you don't need a vehicle.

Upon arrival to Old Harbor, the area was one big party. There's something amusing about knowing that you're there for a completely different reason than 99.9% of those around you (it turned out that we saw only four surfcasters all night). A good meal was in order before the night of fishing that lay ahead. We chose a window seat at Mohegan Cafe & Brewery that allowed us to watch our gear left outside. The beer board on the wall read: "Striper English Ale" - it was then that I knew we walked into the right place. A round of clam chowder hit the spot, then we wolfed down large burgers and nursed our beers, as we hatched a plan of attack.

After digesting, we hopped on our bikes and rode out of civilization towards the southern half of the Island. It was a 15-minute ride to our first stop and much of it up hill. At least that would mean the way home would be easier. The sun was just going down as we arrived and the fading light allowed us to sort of get our bearings before the very dark hours ahead. We locked up the bikes and changed out of our civilian clothes into wetsuits that we brought in backpacks. While were weren't planning on swimming, the seal skins would allow us to reach rocks that traditional waders would not.

What a better way to start a Block bass-hunt than a Striper English Ale?

It quickly turned into a dark night and I could barely make out the silhouettes of my partners in the same cove. It wasn't a heave, yet there was definitely good surf rolling in. The tide had been going out for an hour by the time I let loose my first cast with a black needlefish. Derrick hooked up right away using a sinking eel-skin popper that is better known for its swimming. I couldn't tell at the time, but it turned out to be a bass in the low teens. He and Mike soon landed a few more of similar size on black needles and the eel-skin while I struggled tossing the same things. The biggest of their handful of fish was 17-pounds, but the numbers and size were not enough to keep us much longer as the clock was ticking. We walked back to the bikes, turned west, and left fish to find bigger fish. After another 10 minute ride, we rolled up to a classic south-side spot.

Up to this point, we had been fishing for a few hours and I had not experienced a bump yet. I was getting a little frustrated with myself, but settled down and was finally snapped out of a trance by the jolt of a striper. The keeper-sized fish whacked an eel-skin stubby needlefish that had never produced for me before. It felt great to get the "skunk" off my back and now the group had encountered life at both spots. We hit another point and cove for a while, changing between plugs and rigged eels without much to show for it. Finally, another fish of comparable size latched onto a steadily retrieved 12-inch black Slug-Go. Our soft-plastics received a couple more half-hearted takes before it was decided to hightail it out of there.

A bike rigged for fishing can really be an aid to surfcasters at places like Block Island.

Unfortunately, by this time, it was already 2:30 AM. In reality, we had one more good crack at a third and final spot before false dawn. So we opted to head towards the ferry instead of moving farther away. After a nice downhill cruise, we stashed the bikes and bushwhacked down an unexploited trail along the east side of the Island. The lesser surf here presented easier opportunities to wade to good casting platforms. We rock-hopped and went through our plug bags for two more hours with only a handful of hits from small bass. The writing on the wall was starting to show. Sure, you can bang the best bass of your life on any give cast on the Block, but it just wasn't "happening" that night - all around the shoreline for that matter, as we would later find out.

As the spectacular celestial show gave way to the first hints of dawn in the east, our group switched to top-water offerings hoping for redemption. My eel-skin popper was crushed multiple times on consecutive casts around first light, though the bass were small and had trouble finding the hook. Boats started pouring out of Old Harbor and probably fared much better than us in deeper water drifting live eels. It didn't matter, the big yellow ball started peaking over the horizon and we witnessed a sunrise that was worth the price of the ferry and more.

Bubble weed and big surf can make traversing Block Island boulder fields a taxing proposition.

When the sun came up, we stumbled upon two buddies that we last saw while boarding the ferry over. They had very similar results to share, which kind of hurt and helped at the same time. A few text messages to another friend on the other side of the Island revealed better action, yet the same size class of bass. We gave up on the uneventful first light window and coasted into what felt like a ghost town. The breakfast joint wouldn't open until 6 AM, so we hung tight for a few minutes as delirium set in. After the eggs and coffee gave us our fourth wind, we shot the shit at the ferry dock until it showed up at 7:45 AM. The ride back was a little spacier and we all grabbed our own booths and slept for what felt like a minute. The short ferry ride that we payed for was exactly that. The boat let us off and we rode with our gear one last time to our vehicles, all the while passing people heading to the Island for a wild time. I cracked open a Red Bull and listened to a few classic stories from the parking attendant before leaving Galilee.

In the end, we pulled the trigger and put more time in on Block Island. Even though we didn't bottom out a Boga-Grip, the outing unlocked a few more of her secrets. On one of these trips, we will hit it just right and have the night of our fishing careers. You just don't know until you go.

A sunrise like this one is worth the price of admission.

Yak Attack

2011-06-25T11:44:00.003-04:00

Before this week, the only other time I've fished from a kayak was for roosterfish in Costa Rica. Well, that all changed Thursday when I spotted "bunker drunk" bluefish and striped bass just out of casting range from shore in Long Island Sound. A major thunderstorm had just passed the area, but the radar was now clear for the evening. I flew home and hastily put my father's ocean-going kayak into service. This sit-in beast of a kayak wasn't really made for fishing, but it would have to do under the circumstances.  A buddy helped me launch it and also used binoculars from shore to assist in locating the traveling melee.

Using a weighted treble hook, it was hard to miss while snagging through the schools of bait. As soon as my hook penetrated a bunker, I would let it swim around, all the while bleeding and attracting predators. It didn't take long for customers to find my baits.  However, I missed the first few takers, most certainly bluefish, as my bunker came back missing their lower halves. While you always hear anglers say "don't leave fish to find fish", my buddy yelled from shore that he spotted a much larger pod of boiling fish about 150 yards away. I put down the rod and picked up the paddle and got to work.  What the kayak lacked in maneuverability, it made up in speed. I reached the next spot in no time and was in business as soon as my line hit the water.

The next two hours were a bloody blur. There were gator bluefish demolishing bunker all around me and occasionally you could hear the tell-tale suck of a bass that was picking up the scraps. I hooked, landed and lost enough 10 to 13-pound bluefish to last me a season, but it was the bass that I was really after.  During one hook-up, a heavy fish was fighting back unlike the rest. Instead of violent head shakes, there were steady bulldogging pulls toward the bottom - I knew it was a striper. Sure enough, after a good battle I had a respectable linesider boat-side and I let out a victory whoop that no one could hear, as I was the only angler in sight. A few sailboats circled me enjoying the show, but I couldn't believe there were no boat anglers cashing in on the blitz.  Tired, smelly and without sufficient lights, I left the fish biting as dark settled in. I made the paddle back to shore for a hero's welcome from shore-bound anglers who could only watch. I was a happy man and was sold on the kayak. Without one that day, I too would have been chomping at the bit from the beach. I will own a yak in the near future, that's for sure.

Not only did this trip make me realize that I need a "fishing" kayak, I could also use a video camera that mounts to a hat or helmet. Here's the usable footage that I captured with a hand-held camera during the craziness. Turn it up and enjoy (for HD quality, switch to 720p and wait for it to load)!

Surfcasting from a Boat

2011-06-24T12:04:00.000-04:00

A large swath of Connecticut's shoreline is privately owned, which can make things tricky for surfcasters on Long Island Sound. A big thing in our favor is the public trust doctrine, which states that the area below the mean high tide line belongs to everyone. However, accessing this area can still be tough in many places. One way to get around the shoreline access issue is to fish from a kayak or boat, and I was lucky enough to be invited for a trip on the latter this week.

A friend and fishing guide, Captain Mike of Reel Cast Charters, is a surfcaster at heart, yet equally as knowledgeable about boat fishing. He trailers his Steiger Craft to reliable striped bass and tuna haunts all over New England, though eastern Sound is one of the closer areas that he covers. Three of us launched at dusk on the longest day of the year. It was an hour before slack low tide when we arrived to a nice stretch of rocky beach in front of multi-million dollar homes - not somewhere you would just waltz into on foot. Right away, Mike stuck a small bluefish on a Lordship Agitator just as it went dark. Then we threw a variety of offerings towards shore that were neglected, including eel-skin plugs, rigged eels, Slug-Gos, loaded Redfins, and bucktails to name a few. Mike switched to a live eel and eventually hooked up with the first target species of the night - a decent bass of 13-pounds. We all soon made the switch to live bait and started a slow and steady pick of stripers that continued through the night.

Mike brought us to a couple favorite way-points in his GPS and we found willing fish at each stop. At the tip of one rocky outcropping, there was a rip where we drifted through and hooked enough bass that it warranted changing back to plugs. Eel-skin poppers got the attention of a few fish, but live eels still culled out the larger of the bass caught. In all, we landed six keeper-sized stripers up to 20-pounds. Not an epic night, but certainly a fun-filled trip with consistent action. All pretty spent, we arrived back to the dock at false dawn and made the hour drive back home for some needed shuteye. Now I'm already looking forward to my next boat trip.

Photo credit: Mike Roy

Family Outing

2011-06-22T17:18:00.000-04:00

Unfortunate circumstances brought my brother home from California over the weekend. Nonetheless, it was the first time our immediate family was together since October. So on Father's Day, my brothers and I took our dad to a local stream for a good dose of quality time and fresh air. The lushness of the woods and sounds of the flowing water were good medicine for us all. My brothers, who admittedly don't fish as much as me, happily pitched Rooster Tails into choice pools for sunfish, largemouth bass and, the catch of the day, a feisty rainbow trout. The patriarch of the family was content with his binoculars and dipping his feet in the stream. It was a couple of hours well spent. The family will be together again in a few weeks for the memorial Wiffle ball tournament that we throw for my late brother each summer. Hopefully we'll be able to sneak out for another outdoor outing then too.

Bad Timing

2011-06-19T22:40:00.000-04:00

Timing can be so critical when it comes to fishing. In the weeks leading up to a recent Cape Cod trip, there were numerous reports of large striped bass gorging on mackerel in the Cape Cod Canal. In addition, the extensive flats of Cape Cod Bay were offering excellent sight-fishing opportunities for smaller stripers. I don't know if the fish were tipped off that we were coming, but it was like the bite shut off as soon as we crossed the Bourne Bridge.

We planned a backyard camping stay with family only minutes from the "Big Ditch" and a short ride up Route 6 to good flats fishing. With customized fishing bikes, we pedaled up and down the Canal for two full nights and mornings. We bathed in Deet, chugged Red Bulls and retrieved hundreds of casts for one small bass between the three of us. During the day, we covered miles of flats despite a north wind and overcast skies that made sight-fishing virtually impossible. We put a lot of eggs in one basket for this trip and were dealt a bad hand. With buckets of rain on the way, our sleep-deprived decision was made easier and we cut the trip one night short.

Bad timing or not, we gave it our best shot and gained valuable experience and knowledge about fishing the Canal and Bay-side flats. Both fisheries are challenging and enjoyable in their own right and we still have a long way with each one. I didn't expect to waltz into epic action without donating some hours to the karma bank. Maybe next time...

Sand Eel Invasion

2011-06-18T17:00:00.001-04:00

Western Long Island Sound is paved with millions of tiny sand eels; a favorite meal of striped bass and bluefish. There are literally acres of the small baitfish lining our beaches and river mouths, which should help draw in predators and, in turn, give us some great angling opportunities. I recently ventured out at first light armed with a fly rod and sparse sand eel presentations; my favorite way to capitalize on this type of action. There were so many sand eels in front of me that I was snagging them during my retrieves. Micro stripers were crashing on the surface all around me, sending the bass candy into the air. Every drift produced at least one strike, so I eventually put down the rod and picked up the camera and just watched the feeding frenzy. That would have been tough to do if the striped bass were any bigger in size. It was a fun morning regardless and one that I hope to replicate many times in the near future.

Jackpot!

2011-06-09T18:51:00.000-04:00

Sea Lice

2011-06-07T14:42:00.000-04:00

After a brief lay off, a friend and I found some fish during the low incoming tide last night. Derrick was first up with a gator bluefish that tipped the scale to an impressive 13-pounds. The next taker was a welcomed striped bass on my line; not huge, but the target species indeed. The bass was covered in sea lice - a sure sign that it recently arrived from the Atlantic Ocean. Sea lice are marine parasites that hitch rides on host fish for a meal ticket. This poor bastard also had a rusty hook embedded into one eye. We figured removing the hook would only do more damage, so we let it be. I wish I could say more bass cooperated last night, but the last hook-up of the night came shortly after and was another heavy bluefish. If nothing else, the lice-covered bass was a positive sign that fresh fish are still arriving in our area. That being said, two friends and I are hitting the road this weekend, bound for the Cape. On tap is sight-fishing the flats by day, plying the man-made Canal by night and sleeping in sweltering tents inbetween. Hopefully I have some good stories to share upon our return. Tight lines...

Photo credit: Derrick Kirkpatrick

Steamers

2011-06-01T09:08:00.000-04:00

I have always been a seafood lover and shellfish are near the top of my list. With last weekend being the unofficial start to summer, I set out to harvest some of my favorite treats from Long Island Sound. My first experience digging clams last year yielded a decent appetizer, but nothing like what friends and I uncovered during two recent low tides. The amount of soft-shell clams for the taking was quite impressive and kept our time on the rocks and mud to a minimum, which was a good thing as the digging and bending over can take a toll on your back. The best method for us was using a pitch fork for breaking the hard surface, then a smaller claw for fine tuning through the mud and rock piles. We took home 60 on the first trip and broke triple digits on day two. Needless to say, both sides of my family ate well over the weekend. Steamers always taste great, but they seem that much better when you dig them yourself.

Photo credit: Alex Moe

May Mayhem

2011-05-28T18:02:00.000-04:00

Atlantic menhaden have made their way into Long Island Sound and are now finding themselves pinned in harbors and tidal rivers by striped bass and bluefish that are getting fatter by the night. This happens every year in late May and I find it difficult to fish with anything but the real thing when bunker are here in impressive numbers. Snagging the prized baitfish and chunking a fresh head piece is one of the most effective methods for big bass and blues out there. The last few trips have produced stripers in the low 20-pound class and feisty yellow-eyed demons up to 12-pounds. During one wave of action, we had a triple hook up of bluefish over the 10-pound mark. Their drag-peeling runs and shallow water acrobatics has been wild, yet their sharp teeth are taking a toll on our tackle! Hopefully the bunker schools stick around for a while and some larger stripers join the party soon.

Happy Memorial Day Weekend!

Buckle Up

2011-05-20T10:34:00.000-04:00

Every angler has their priorities and, right now, mine is striped bass. Big bait and ensuing stripers are showing up in full force across the region. The next 30 days should be some of the best striper fishing of the year. I'm glad I got my fill of salmonoids this spring, because I may not see a trout stream for a while. Instead, I will be plying tidal rivers and open beaches in search of Marone saxatilis. Here are some recent catches from friends and I.

Photo credit: Derrick Kirkpatrick

Rainy Day Gold

2011-05-17T10:00:00.004-04:00

Say what you will about them, but not many fish pull harder than carp. Along with being exceptional fighters, they are not heavily pressured like trout or striped bass. They call almost any body of water around here home and can reach crazy proportions. I tried a new spot yesterday and went one for one on run-offs. There are endless amounts of baits one can use for this type of fishing, yet good old canned corn did the trick for my first carp of 2011. I hope to put some larger ones on the bank soon.

Hot & Heavy

2011-05-13T15:14:00.001-04:00

As I write this, the hendricksons are in full swing on my favorite river. Much of the allure about these aquatic insects is the surface action surrounding their hatch and subsequent spinnerfall. When the duns pop off the water around 2:30 PM, you can be hard pressed to find an empty run for miles. On pleasant evenings, and occasionally mornings, crowds can be equally as bad for those seeking to cash in on spent spinners dropping down to the river. On many May mornings, however, when hendrickson nymphs are their most active, you can sometimes find yourself alone in the heads of pools and really hammer trout that are keyed in on these crawlers.

Photo credit: Todd Kuhrt

After a few outings where we had to really work for our fish, it was a nice change of pace to have hot and heavy action. On two consecutive mornings, anything resembling a hendrickson nymph stood no chance in the water. When your first three drifts of the morning come tight to fish, you know it’s on. Don’t get me wrong, a few thousand fresh trout stocked by the CT DEP certainly made things easier, but it felt good to weed out some holdovers from the fray. I was mostly fishing a two-fly rig, with pheasant tails nymphs as both my offerings. In one fast run though, I had to switch to a heavier anchor fly and chose the farthest looking thing from a hednrickson nymph, a pink Vladi worm. The pheasant tail dropper was responsible for over a dozen stockers and the Vladi took the only quality fish – it was a big food item and one that stood out from the rest.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

As good as the mornings were, I experienced two mediocre afternoon hatches and no real spinnerfalls. I later found out that I missed a good evening spinnerfall, but I was spent myself from a full day in the sun and skedaddled early. The afternoon hatches were short lived, but each day quality trout were looking up for quick stints. I was all alone in a pool on day one and stuck a large female brown trout on a hendrickson emerger pattern. She had my old school Fenwick 5-weight bitched and put up a fight that I wish others got to witness. I attempted to capture a self portrait with the brown before releasing her and could only laugh when I played back the photo afterwards - bummer! The dun hatch on day two was also rather uneventful, save for a 5-minute stretch where two nice trout were rising sporadically. I plucked one of them on the same emerger pattern from the day before and had another great tussle on the dry fly rod. It turned out to be a Survivor stocked last spring that was caught several river-miles downstream from where it was put in. The morning nymph action, afternoon dun hatches and evening spinnerfalls will still go on for a couple more weeks on the Farmington River, each day or two progressing slightly upstream. Between work and life, I may get one more crack at them before the 2011 hendrickson hatch is all said and done. It's been fun so far!

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Here We Go

2011-05-02T22:52:00.003-04:00

May is one of my favorite months for fishing in Connecticut. What's not to love? Overrated or not, the hendrickson hatch gets the attention of some of the best trout in our rivers, migratory striped bass from the Hudson and Chesapeake return to Long Island Sound, and post-spawn carp put on the feedbag.

May 2011 started on a high note for me. AaronS and I spent the better part of Sunday on the West Branch Farmington River. The flow was 550 CFS and dropping slowly. We were nymphing by 8:15 AM and I broke off a heavy trout on my third drift. Aaron jumped in, pricked something and came back with a scale during his first couple drifts. Then it slowed down...big time. Knowing the caliber of trout in this run, we worked it hard for a while without another tap while nypmhing under yarn. The switch to Euro nymphing was made and I hooked a nice fish on midge larvae pattern as the dropper fly. The 20-inch brown was the highlight of a surprisingly tough day on the water considering the calendar. It was a left-yellow Survivor that is celebrating its third year in the Farmington this week. Closer to hatch-thirty, we moved downstream to water where we (I) thought we had a better chance of seeing rising fish. Aaron knew it wasn't going to "happen" where we were going. The nymphing was tough pre and post hatch and there were few fish looking up despite the copious amount of bugs pouring off the water. Like always, it's tough to have a bad time while fishing, especially on that river. Anyday now, all hell is going to break loose and I hope I'm there to witness it.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

This healthy 20-inch brown was passing a semi-digested fishfly larvae during the photo shoot.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Trout crack a.k.a. hendrickson dun

Day of Firsts

2011-04-26T10:27:00.004-04:00

Long overdue, I brought my wife to the West Branch Farmington River recently for her first taste of fly fishing. I wanted her intial experience on the river to be a good one - warm sun, moderate flows, cooperative fish...but you know what they say about the best-laid plans. Conditions were tough. It was a chilly morning and the river was higher and colder than normal due to a dam release from the swollen reservoir. We went over basic nymphing mechanics and Mosey got the gist of it pretty quickly. With a few backyard sessions and another trip or two to the Farmington, she will be giving Joe Humphreys a run for his money. The fishing wasn't easy that day, yet Aaron scored a nice Survivor brown trout on a homemade golden stone after we left and Tommy captured a great underwater photo during its release.

(Photo credit: Aaron Swanson)

The orange elastomer tag over the left eye indicates that this brown entered the river last spring.

(Photo credit: Tommy Baranowski)

We had better luck out of the water. On the walk back to the Jeep, a spring delicacy revealed itself - fiddleheads were poking out from the detritus. I've heard my uncle talk about how tasty they are, but I've always found them too late. Fiddleheads don't just grow anywhere and their locations are closely guarded for good reason. There is a small window in New England each spring to harvest the ferns before they unfurl. I snipped a Ziploc-bag worth for a family dinner that night. We cleaned, blanched, then sautéed them for three minutes in a little butter, garlic and olive oil. It was only a small serving, but everyone around the table ate their first fiddleheads that day. They were extremely delicious and tasted that much better knowing where and when they were picked.

Opening Daze 2011

2011-04-19T23:21:00.001-04:00

As the smell of campfire smoke still lingers on my gear, I'm trying to acclimate back to reality. My favorite weekend of the year has come and gone once again. I had a hell of a time along the Farmington River for three nights and four days with good friends. The underlying reason we go on this annual excursion is for the traditional opening of Connecticut's trout season, yet fishing usually takes a backseat to camping, relaxing and eating like kings - and that's just fine by us. I sometimes joke with my wife that when we have kids someday, she should pray that they don't enter this world on the third weekend in April, for I'll have a tough decision to make. For me, the tradition stretches almost 20 years now. For my uncle who started it for us, it's almost double that. The group is close-knit band of anglers that, come hell or high water, get together every year on this weekend.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Thursday was spent stacking fire wood, making camp, catching up, relaxing, and shopping for food and any last-minute fishing supplies. The weekend meals started strong and never looked back. That night we had a great codfish, rice and asparagus dinner and told lies around a well-stoked fire. We had a hearty breakfast in the morning, rigged our rods and were on the water by noon. Fishing was restricted to a catch and release area on Friday, but at least we knew there were quality fish in every run we hit. Without consisent surface activity, it all nymphing all the time. Action wasn't on fire by any means. My uncle lost a beast of a brown after a long fight and the group scored a handful of stockers. Aaron salvaged the afternoon by nymphing up two nice holdover brown trout from fast water.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Back around the fire that night, the Guinness and single malt flowed generously as we rehatched the day and planned the next. The annual cheese and cracker spread and fresh top neck clams from Long Island Sound were tough acts to follow. However, the showcase dinner of the trip was next and consisted of fire-grilled steaks, steamed brocoli, and baked potatoes that were buried in hot coals for an hour. Rightly so, good food and drink are such an integral part of the weekend.

On Saturday morning at 6 AM, I was woken by the official siren announcing the start of the season. We wouldn't be on the water for a few more hours; there were bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches to make and a camp that needed tightening up before the forecasted monsoon coming our way. The river was still where we had left it and we weren't bound by a catch and release area anymore. To our surprise, there wasn't a soul at the familiar run we visit every year on this day. The fishing remained spotty, but a handful of feisty rainbow trout fell to a smattering of nymph patterns like golden stones, pheasant tails, princes, and green caddis larvae.

We soon changed locations and found a pod of fish that sealed the deal for an epic weekend. One small pool produced five trout in a relatively short time, and three of those hadn't seen a stocking truck in a while. Aaron was up first and got a stocker rainbow out of the way on his first drift and lamented that he wasted his turn on it - he was right. I was up next and stuck a holdover brown on my second drift using a size #16 pheasant tail, mimicking the hendrickson nymphs found in our seine samples. It turned out to be my best fish of the weekend and I was more than happy. Derrick's turn produced a rainbow trout unlike any other we caught over the weekend; it was in top notch condition. My uncle then plucked another stocker before the next few anglers lost rigs to structure. When it was my uncle's turn again, he hooked what he briefly thought was a log until it started to move. The fight that ensued was a heavy weight battle that lasted for a couple long minutes. Derrick eventually netted the beast that was dubbed 'Tollbooth Willy'. It was a phenomenal brown trout that had a great story to go with it. It was not only the best fish of the trip, but of the last several opening days. It was an awesome moment to have the whole group experience the catch and release of a specimen like that with no one else around.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Rain started to fall and everyone knew it wouldn't stop until morning. We pressed on to yet another pool void of anglers and Derrick came tight to a fish that had been in the river for a while. It was a beautiful brown trout that ended the fishing portion of the weekend on a high note. The weather however, soon took a real turn for the worse. The thermometer fell into the 30's, the wind started to howl, and the rain came down in buckets. I won't mention names, but it was gnarly enough out there to make two of the group leave camp, and then there were three. Natural casing hotdogs cooked over a 40-year-old Coleman grill was the last dinner of the weekend. We kept the fire roaring and hunkered under a pop-up tent that was worth its weight in gold. The last of the scotch gave us false warmth and a little after midnight, we crawled into our tents and hoped they would be up to the task. By morning, it had rained over two inches and rendered the river unfishable, even though that really wasn't on the docket anyway. Some water infiltrated the tents, but we were in good shape considering. Drying our gear, slowly breaking down camp and eating the rest of the food filled our last day of the trip. Each of us spends a good amount of time fishing throughout the year, yet not nearly enough camping. There will be plenty of all-day benders on the river over the weeks to come, but it will be another year before we have a weekend like that again. That's why we savor camp life.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

In situ

2011-04-11T09:11:00.002-04:00

I was lucky enough to stumble upon a small triangle point made of white quartz over the weekend, and snapped an in situ photograph before picking it up. In situ is a Latin phrase which means 'in position'. Usually I'm so stoked when I see anything that resembles an artifact, that I pick it up before I can take a picture of it as it were found. I saw this piece as I was walking back to my Jeep for the day, so needless to say it made me stick around a while longer. So far this spring has been to good to me in terms of finding artifacts - let's hope the luck continues.

Shaking The Rust Off

2011-04-08T23:41:00.003-04:00

With our annual 'Opening Day' camping and fishing trip rapidly approaching, today was a prep and scouting day of sorts. Frankly, it's been a while since I was fly fishing for trout with any consistency; months of surf fishing then ice fishing will do that. Anyway, it was about time to shake the rust off. In short, the trip was a success - Aaron and I weren't at work and we were catching fish. We plucked several fresh stockers and a few better trout on a couple different nymph presentations. In addition, there was a ton of food around, with midge coming off in the morning, stoneflies and caddis throughout the day, and a bounty of Hendrickson nymphs in our seine samples. Water temps are on the rise and the flows are at a good level. The river was very crowded, but that's to be expected on a Friday. It will be nice to get a bit of breathing room when we can wander the rest of river next weekend. As far as Dydimo, we didn't see any of it where we fished today, but we weren't exactly looking for it either. In any case, the waders and boots I wore today have become Farmington or saltwater-use only. My old, slow-leaking backups will serve me just fine on other streams.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Heron attack survivor?

Hendrickson nymphs galore

Aaron's beauty taken in fast water

Good Looking

2011-04-08T22:47:00.002-04:00

In our heavily developed state, it's not easy locating spots that still yield Native American artifacts. Many of the fields that gave up museum-quality tools to our predecessors are now sub-divisions or shopping malls. And most of the places that we do have left, have been picked over for centuries. Dont' get me wrong, there is a ton of stuff still out there and, occasionally, we do stumble upon something nice. Derrick and I have been doing a lot more "looking" than fishing this spring and it's starting to pay off. I found this intact quartz beauty last week. The caked mud on it made it blend in well with the other rocks. It's a great feeling when you find a full piece after picking up so many crumbs. If nothing else, this will serve as a great incentive to keep looking.

Sign of the Times

2011-03-31T15:13:00.002-04:00

Troubled Waters

2011-03-29T11:20:00.000-04:00

Perhaps it was only a matter of time, but troubling news reverberated throughout the local angling community last week. An invasive type of algae, Didymosphenia geminata, or didymo for short, was positively identified in the fabled West Branch Farmington River. This is the first confirmed report of didymo in Connecticut waters, but it has been plaguing trout streams in the Northeast since 2007. Didymo has earned the nickname 'rock snot' because when it blooms, it can form thick mats of brown gooey material that coats the stream bottom and could potentially smother aquatic insects and plant life. The CT DEP admitted today that, once didymo has spread, there’s no practical way to remove it from a river. What we can do for now is try to contain it and that requires public education. In short, this is extremely disheartening news for the Farmington River, but it doesn’t have to be for all Connecticut trout streams.

An extreme example of what didymo can do to a trout stream
(Photo credit: Biosecurity New Zealand)

The following paragraphs were cut and pasted from an official DEP press release this morning:

Humans are the primary vector responsible for the recent spread of didymo. Anglers, kayakers and canoeists, boaters and jet skiers can all unknowingly spread didymo. The microscopic cells can cling to fishing gear, waders (felt soles can be especially problematic), boots and boats, and remain viable for months under even slightly moist conditions. To prevent the spread of didymo to additional waters, DEP asks that anglers, especially those who also fish the Farmington River or streams outside Connecticut, and other users practice CHECK, CLEAN, DRY procedures.

•CHECK: Before leaving a river, stream or lake, remove all obvious clumps of algae and plant material from fishing gear, waders, clothing & footwear, canoes & kayaks, and anything else that has been in the water and look for hidden clumps. Leave them at the site. If you find any later, clean your gear and dispose of all material in the trash.

• CLEAN: Soak/spray & scrub boats and all other “hard” items for at least one minute in either very hot (140°F) water, a 2% bleach solution, or a 5% dishwashing detergent solution. Absorbent materials such as clothes and felt soles on waders should be soaked for at least 40 minutes in very hot water (140°F), or 30 minutes in hot water (115°F) with 5% dishwashing detergent. Freezing thoroughly will also kill didymo.

• DRY: If cleaning is not practical, after the item is completely dry to touch, wait an additional 48 hours before contact or use in any other waterway.

ICE VIDEO

2011-03-22T13:16:00.000-04:00

Despite a few inches of snow on the way, spring is officially upon us. This past ice fishing season came and went like it always does, in the blink of an eye. Good times were had, new anglers were introduced to the sport, and a few nice fish were caught and released. The open-water gear has been dusted off and the ice gear put away until next November. But before we get caught up in spring fever and the madness of migratory stripers and mayfly hatches, let's take a look back at the 2010/2011 ice season. We hope you enjoy the recap...tight lines.

(To see in HD, switch to 720p and give it time to load)

Maine Humble Pie

2011-03-21T10:07:00.001-04:00

An ice fishing road trip that I pencil in every season is to Maine's Sebago Lake. Good friends of my family have lived next to this massive body of water since I can remember. Every February for the last several years they have hosted me for the Derbyfest. This annual two-day tournament draws thousands of ice addicts from all over New England to Maine's deepest lake to compete for the heaviest lake trout, also referred to as togue or lakers. Coveted prizes like boats and snow mobiles are given out to top finishers, which normally require a trout well over the double-digit mark. To up the ante this year, a $100,000 reward was posted for anyone who could topple the state record togue, a 31-pound beast caught in 1958.

Aaron's new fishing mobile received baptism by fire on this trip

Derrick, Aaron and I met on a rainy Friday morning and packed Aaron's new truck for its inaugural fishing trip. What a better way to break it in than a run up to Maine in gnarly weather? We packed as "light" as we could, yet still needed to strap three sleds and a pop-up shelter to the roof just to fit everything. We made it to Kittery without issue and stopped for some fine New England sea fare at Bob's Clam Hut. After getting back on the highway, we soon crossed the rain/snow line and the road conditions instantly turned treacherous. An oblivious driver in an FJ Cruiser sped past us in the fast lane, lost control and hit a snow bank, causing the vehicle to barrel-roll three times. Thankfully, it landed right side up and looked relatively unscathed, though I dialed 911 and a few other cars stopped to assist regardless. We continued on at a snail's pace shaking our heads as to what had just happened.

After another long hour on the road, we pulled up to Jordan's, a rustic lake-side general store that's always buzzing come Derby time. This is where we stocked up on bait, live white suckers and rainbow smelt, as well as picked up our Derby registration and three-day licenses. Next stop was Wayne's house, our headquarters for the weekend. After a big Maine dinner, we sat around the wood stove catching up, tinkering with new gear, and hatching a game plan for the next morning. With a fresh foot of powder on the lake and no snow mobile, our crew would be severely limited on where we could fish. We scoured a Sebago depth chart for some sharp drop-offs that were walkable distances from shore. A spot was agreed upon, yet with no recent scouting it was like throwing a dart at the map.

Sebago drops to a mind-boggling 314 deep in its Big Bay

We got a later start the first day than we would have liked, mostly due to the home-brew Wayne's brother busted out the night before. And as expected, the snow slowed us down quite a bit, although we managed to carve out a nice piece of real estate with the depths we were looking for. Our tip-ups were set off bottom in water ranging from 60 to 110 feet deep. I also drilled a few dozen extra holes in between for jigging. It was slow going in terms of action. We marked some fish on our electronics, though they were acting far from aggressive. Enticing these lakers into their characteristic cat-and-mouse chase was difficult. The tip-up action wasn't much better either. Sometime mid-morning I got my one and only flag of the weekend, which turned out to be a "chew and screw" with about 20 yards of line taken out and no one home. We kept working hard though, changing jigs and presentations, moving traps around, and varying depths, all the while cooking, eating, and BSing the day away. Staying mobile and purely jigging is arguably the most effective tactic for icing lake trout, yet with a group of our size that is there for fishing and camaraderie, staying put and hammering a chosen area was the plan of attack.

Trap fishing with smelt set off bottom can be an effective tactic for Sebago lake trout

Derrick eventually put the group on the board when his sole flag of the weekend produced a small lake trout from 67 feet down. It was the right species, just the wrong size by about 12-pounds we would later find out. As day one wore on, the lack of life underneath us only became more apparent. The bite was off plain and simple. After a full day working hard with little to show, we packed up and went back to the drawing board. A hot meal was waiting for us back at headquarters and we sat around the table staring at the map again. We could have easily gone back to spot number one, taken what we had learned and tweaked our presentations for day two. However, we chose a spot about a mile away, directly in front of the family lake house, hoping that the home turf would would generate some good luck.

Derrick's small lake trout that ate a smelt was the only one we saw all weekend

In short, Sebago didn't treat us any better on Sunday. Old Man Winter welcomed us back to the lake with a raw wind and mixed precipitation that came in sideways. The warm confines of the pop-up shelter were inviting, though we mostly braved the elements and jigged like mad-men knowing our time in Maine was growing short. Unfortunately, for the second day in a row our fish finders stayed blank for the most part. A few willing fish rose off bottom, yet triggering them into biting was difficult to say the least. In my limited experience, when the bite is "on", it's really on. Many seasoned anglers caught their share of lakers that weekend, including one lucky Mainer with a 14.14-pounder that took first place, but we just couldn't make it happen. However, a phone call one week later had me scratching my head, as our host and his brother caught 10 lake trout a piece up to 6-pounds. It was like the lake trout action turned on like a light switch. Air plane jigs, spoons, tip-ups with smelt - it didn't matter. With my jaw dropped, Wayne told me fish were bursting 40 feet off the bottom in 70 feet of water to smash their baits without hesitation. Man, I wish that was the case during our trip, but that is the roll of the dice that are road trips. All in all, it was a classic time as always. And one of these years we're bound to get lucky and hit pay dirt. Unbeknownst to me, this trip would be my last real trip of the 2010/2011 ice season. It will be good to get back in the swing of open water fishing until I'm chomping at the bit for ice again next November...

The Motley Crew with high hopes on day one

Until next year....

Get Up, Stand Up

2011-03-17T15:39:00.000-04:00

In Governor Malloy’s proposed two-year budget, a portion of the reduction of services/spending includes the closure of the Kensington fish Hatchery as part of cuts being made to Connecticut's Department of Environmental Protection. The budget projects this action would potentially realize $800,000 in savings over two years – a relatively miniscule figure compared to the overall budget.

The Kensington fish hatchery has some unique qualities not enjoyed by other state hatcheries, which are already at capacity for fish production. If this hatchery goes away, anglers will not see increases in production elsewhere to stem the gap in fish stocking.

The Kensington Hatchery produces CT's only Seeforellen brown trout

What Connecticut Anglers Stand to Lose:

While the closure of this facility looks to generate approximately $800,000 in savings, it is reported that annual operating costs are closer to $95,000 - $100,000 annually (David Mordavsky – Journal Inquirer).
Recent upgrades were made to this facility totaling $65,000 in improvements. The hatchery is reportedly in excellent condition (Modavsky – Journal Inquirer).
Kensington has unique qualities which produce healthy, good looking fish and also meet federal Interstate Salmon program requirements. The dirt ponds and water alkalinity are unique to this hatchery.
Closing the Kensington hatchery will effectively end Connecticut's participation in the four-state Atlantic salmon restoration program.
According to the DEP, the Kensington Hatchery produces the state’s only strain of Seeforellen brown trout. The hatchery produces 25,000 catchable size trout and 700 surplus broodstock annually. The 700 surplus broodstock support 8 of the most important trout lakes. In addition, approximately 250,000 fry and parr are produced and used in programs to enhance sea run and wild trout. These fish live longer, grow larger, and are wilder in nature than brown trout strains used in other hatcheries.
Also according to the DEP, the Quinnebaug and Burlington Trout Hatcheries are currently at full production capacity. Fish production from Kensington cannot be moved to another hatchery.
Decreased stocking programs could lead to less angler hours realized, in turn leading to less revenue for associated business and ultimately tax revenues. The 750,000 trout stocked by the State generate 1.5million angler hours and an associated $56million in revenue (David Mordavsky – Journal Inquirer).

The Kensington Hatchery is responsible for CT's fall broodstock salmon fishery

Below is the contact information of Governor Malloy and of ranking members of the Environmental Committee of the Connecticut General Assembly. There is also a link for finding the elected officials in your district. Please call or write to let them know that Connecticut anglers cannot afford to lose this facility; especially considering the recent increase in licensure fees.

Governor Dannel P. Malloy; Phone: 860-566-4840, or 1-800-406-1527; Email; Address: Office of the Governor, State Capitol, 210 Capitol Avenue, Hartford, CT 06106

Sen. Edward Myer (Co-Chair); Phone: 860-240-0455, or 1-800-842-1420; Address: Legislative Office Building, Room 3200, Hartford, CT 06106-1591

Rep. Richard Roy (Co-Chair); Phone: 1.800.842.8267, or 860-240-8585; Email;

Address: Legislative Office Building, Room 3201, Hartford, CT 06106-1591

Sen. Andrew M. Maynard (Vice Chair); Phone: 860-240-0591; Address: Legislative Office Building, Room 2300, Hartford, CT 06106-1591

Rep. Paul Davis (Vice Chair); Phone: (203) 799-7285; Email; Address: Legislative Office Building, Room 4045, Hartford, CT 06106-1591

Sen. Andrew W. Roraback (Ranking Member); Phone: 1-800-842-1421; Address: Legislative Office Building, Room 3400, Hartford, CT 06106

Rep. Clark J. Chapin (Ranking Member); Phone: 1-800-842-1423; Email; Address: House Republican Office, L.O.B., Room 4200, Hartford, CT 06106

Find the CT State Representative or Senator in your District

Make A Great Place Better

2011-03-15T00:44:00.001-04:00

It's no secret that the West Branch of the Farmington River is among the very top trout fishing destinations in the Northeast. The quantity of quality fish living within its banks is unmatched in southern New England. The ever increasing number of Connecticut and out-of-state anglers lining its pools is a testament to that. There are many reasons why this river, particularly the upper portion, consistently produces high-caliber trout. One of them is because of its year-round catch and release Trout Management Areas (TMA).

Established in 1988, the upper TMA encompasses a magnificent 3.6-mile stretch of river from the Route 219 Bridge in New Hartford to the power lines that run through People's State Forest in Pleasant Valley. With sufficient food, great habitat, cold, clean water, and fish-friendly regulations, there is a strong population of holdover trout, and an increasingly impressive number of wild fish as well. For several years, there has been a growing movement to expand the TMA to improve and protect this amazing fishery even more. A proposed expansion in the works would increase the upper TMA upstream to the old bridge abutments in the tail of Whittemore Pool. This would be a big win for trout by providing more catch and release sanctuary and for anglers by providing more room to breathe year-round.

In addition, the proposed expansion would make the rest of the river from the Goodwin Dam all the way down to the Route 177 bridge a seasonal TMA. This would mean that from September 1 until Opening Day, the entire 21-mile stretch of river from the Dam to Unionville would be a strictly catch and release area. And from Opening Day until September 1, there would be a 2 fish, 12-inch limit in areas outside of the TMA. However, in an attempt to make regulations more consistent throughout the entire stretch of river, the mandatory barbless hook regulation would be taken out if these changes go through in their current form. No doubt that by increasing the river's catch and release areas the trout fishing on the Farmington River would benefit immensely, yet reinstating barbed hooks into the TMA is looked at by many to be a step in the wrong direction.

A public hearing has been scheduled for Wednesday, March 16 at 6:30 PM, at the DEP HQ in Hartford. This is the last chance to voice your opinion on the matter in person. Based on public comment, the proposed regulations may be adjusted. For supporters of expanding the TMA that cannot make it to Hartford, the Farmington River Anglers Association (FRAA) has drafted a letter (below), which you can tweak to make your own. Written comments should be submitted no later than 4:30 PM on March 30 to Bill Foreman (see address/fax/email below).

Bill Foreman
CT DEP Inland Fisheries Division
79 Elm Street
Hartford, CT 06106-5127
Fax: (860) 424-4070
william.foreman@ct.gov

Dear Mr. Foreman:

I am writing this letter to show my support for the proposed changes in the Farmington River Trout Management Area. The expansion of the Trout Management Area to the bridge abutments at the tail out of the Whittemore pool, and the changes to the other areas of the river down to the Route 177 Bridge in Unionville are well thought out, and long over due.

However, there is one change in the proposed regulations which I DO NOT support. All three sections of the new proposals relating to the Farmington River require that the fish be released “without avoidable injury”. And yet the regulations requiring the use of barbless hooks has been eliminated from the proposal. Barbless hooks allow for reduced handling and a faster release of the fish, thus reducing unwanted injury. To eliminate this requirement makes no sense. Barbless hooks in the Trout Management Area have been required since its inception, and to remove this provision at this time would be counter productive to releasing the fish without avoidable injury. Please consider reinstating the barbless hook requirement in the TMA, and if you wish to standardize the regulations, make barbless hooks required for the entire section of the river in the proposal. Thank you for your consideration in this matter.

Sincerely,

[Insert your name here]

Salty Thoughts

2011-02-28T22:54:00.000-05:00

As my ice fishing opportunities slowly melt away, the call of the surf is growing louder. In the last few weeks, I have been tinkering with old gear and acquiring some new toys in anticipation of the coming saltwater season. My biggest off-season modification came in the form of footwear. Until now I had to strap heavy, cumbersome Korker sandals over boots to get the gripping power needed for wading or wetsuiting in boulder fields. Don't get me wrong, the studs on my Korkers cut through bubble weed well and saved me from falling many times. However, I found a lighter, more comfortable substitute without sacrificing any grip.

After several good reviews from fellow Connecticut Surfcasters Association (CSA) members, I purchased carbide stud inserts called Wearbars, which were orignally intended for snowmobiles. I also sprang for a new pair of ultra light wading boots that weigh just two pounds in all. I eventually inserted 14 half-inch studs into each rubber sole, which leaves me plenty for replacements if needed. The decision for rubber soles instead of felt was because I plan to use these boots in trout rivers too and felt is more prone to transporting invasive species, like didymo. I am looking forward to shedding my aging, heavy Korkers and trying this new footwear combination in the field soon.

Trusty yet heavy Korker 5000 sandals

Wearbar carbide studs

Ultra light wading boots with Wearbar studs

Plugging in the surf is and always will be a favorite angling method of mine. I wouldn't think twice about tossing a live eel or fresh bunker head into the wash, but there is something about fooling striped bass with artificial lures that strikes a chord in me as a surfcaster. I added a few lures to the collection over the winter, which I'm looking forward to beating up this season.

Pictured from left to right are Yozuri Surface Cruiser, Tsunami Danny Deep and Tsunami Talkin Popper

4.5 inch fast-sinking Sebile Magic Swimmer

Landing toothy fish in the surf or on the ice can be dangerous if you can't control them. Boga grips are the cream of the crop in terms of fish handling devices. They accurately weigh fish and can stand up to harsh conditions over a long time. However, they are very expensive and are also added weight on your person while fishing. A 60-pound Boga is on my wish list, but I recently scored The Fish Grip from a CSA member that will tame bluefish, northern pike and walleye until then. The most obvious perks of this tool are its weight and price tag. The hard-plasic design allows it to be light and inexpensive. We already used The Fish Grip to land a walleye while ice fishing, but I think it will get a lot of mileage when the yellow-eyed demons show up in Long Island Sound in a few months.

This black fish gripper is a light and stealthy addition to my surf belt

Night 'Eyes

2011-02-21T13:05:00.001-05:00

Wind wreaked havoc on ice fishing plans across the region this weekend. Saturday and Sunday for the most part were unfishable. We had friends that tried and broke part of their pop-up shelter as a result. Gusts to 40 MPH were common from Friday night into Sunday morning, and one town in northeastern Connecticut reported a gust of 61...no thanks! The wind finally died down Sunday afternoon just as we were settling in for a night of walleye fishing. A small snow event was due to move in around midnight, so we hoped for pre-storm action action as the barometer dropped.

The bare ice made for some easy pulling and studded boots were needed to stay on your feet. We set up in a spot that has treated us well in the past and focused on depths ranging from 19 to 10 feet of water. Our live shiners and dead alewives were set just off bottom and we gave ourselves a bunch of extra holes throughout the spread for jigging. All was quiet until 9:10 PM when Aaron spotted the one and only blinking red light of the evening. It was Derrick's flag. The walleye had taken a decent amount of line out but then swam back towards the hole. Derrick patiently caught up to the fish until he felt something there and set the hook. Soon a respectable 22-inch-plus walleye came through the hole.

The night was already a success by our standards and we still had a few more hours to kill before the first snow flakes fell. Next up was an ice feast that you dream about. Aaron cooked up a half dozen cheeseburger sliders, as well as pierogies and kielbasa, which we topped off with some good beers and swigs of espresso vodka. Like clockwork, the wind reared its ugly head as the storm rolled in and we knew it was time to pack up. That was fine by us though. Anytime you can get good friends together, eat like kings and land a keeper walleye is considered a solid outing in our book.

Stay tuned for next weekend's full report from our annual excursion to Maine...

Bait & Switch

2011-02-17T22:55:00.003-05:00

We stepped foot on the lake as the first hints of dawn were creeping over the hills. And for the first time in over a month, dragging gear across the ice was easy. The right combination of mixed precipitation, thawing and refreezing had packed the snow well. My power auger got its toughest workout of the season boring eight-inch holes through 30 inches of snow and ice. I punched holes in a tight circle and Jon cleared the mass amounts of slush. We then sat over 55 feet of water and got to work trying to catch our bait for the day.

Jon and Aaron had some live shiners as a backup plan, but the real meal tickets for trout in this lake are land-locked rainbow smelt. Smelt fishing, or smelting, can be a blast or flat-out frustrating. This trip started out as the latter. We had light-action jigging rods with spring bobber extensions to aid in strike detection. Our small jigs and ice flies were tipped with fish meat and dropped down to the appropriate depth on the fish finder. Then we imparted little action and waited for the tiniest depressions of our rod tips to let us know that smelt 30-feet below were nibbling our offerings.

On this particular morning they were not cooperating. We set some tip-ups with shiners anyway and waited for any type of bite to turn on. Confidence for flags flying was low without smelt on our traps, so we continued to try and crack the code. Around mid-morning, as if someone turned on a switch, we finally started getting them to eat, and one by one we switched out our shiners for fresh smelt. Almost immediately the flags started to pop.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Both the smelt and trout action continued to pick up as the morning wore off. Althought not awful big, these trout don some awesome colors because of the cold, clean water and healthy diet. It keeps me coming back knowing what a real trophy out of there could look like. Unfortunately, we had to leave them biting, as all three of us were headed to the same obligation that afternoon. But before packing up, Jon capped off the outing with a nice 16-inch holdover brown on his first-ever smelt. It goes to show that having the right bait can sometimes be the difference between a skunk and a decent day. The leftovers didn't go to waste; I bagged them up individually and put them in the freezer when I got home, as dead smelt are better than no smelt.

Change of Pace

2011-02-07T21:08:00.003-05:00

Derrick, Todd and I spent a few hours on the Farmington River yesterday. A lot of my free time in February is reserved for ice fishing, but winter fly fishing is always a worthy option. Air temps crept near 40 degrees, though gusty northwest winds and leaky waders let me know winter was still at the helm. Like our ice fishing spots at the moment, access along the river wasn't easy. We had to blaze new paths through the snow at both spots we fished. The river was running at a nice level, yet I couldn't tell you exactly what the flow was because one of the gauges used to calculate it simply read "ice" online.

It was strictly subsurface fishing and both indicator and European nymphing methods produced in the right situations. There wasn't a magic fly, though various caddis pupa, midge, and pheasant tail variations took fish, as did off-beat patterns like pink scuds. My rust showed a bit from not having fly fished since November, but any day on a fine piece of water like that is well spent. There is a good amount of ice fishing still to be done this season including a trip to Maine, yet Farmington browns are never far from thought.

When the going gets tough...

2011-02-02T17:28:00.003-05:00

The National Weather Service recently announced that Connecticut's snowfall amount in January was higher than any other monthly total since record keeping began in 1905. For ice fishermen, that translates into one big mess. Dragging a sled through all this snow just plain old sucks. The slush and water beneath the snow soaks your gear quickly and once the bottom of your sled gets wet, forget about it. All the snow on the lake seems to cake to the bottom of it, adding to the excruciating drag. It's tough out there for sure, but that's the hand we've been dealt.

Sloppy or not, some friends and I were determined to get out last Saturday. We spent the early morning hours jigging up land-locked rainbow smelt. It wasn't on fire by any means, but we caught enough for a days-worth of trout bait. The cold, clean water here and healthy smelt diet always ensures good looking trout if you can find them. We kept the smelt fresh in a live-well and eventually set them on tip-ups and dead-sticks suspended under the ice. It didn't take long for some trout to key in on our baits. The first flag produced my only trout of the day, a beautiful 17-inch holdover brown. Aaron scored the next two fish, including a nice 16-inch brown. That was about it for action, but it was a blast to be on the ice again.

Bring enough shit?

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Snowed In

2011-01-27T17:22:00.000-05:00

I haven't fished in almost two weeks now. What I have been doing is working, shoveling crazy amounts of snow and tying flies. It's time to scratch the itch and a weekend bender of ice fishing is in the works. Hopefully I'll have some fish porn to post here soon instead of snow and fly photos.

Winter Reading

2011-01-22T13:49:00.001-05:00

When I'm not actually fishing, I'm often reading about it. And what a better time than the winter doldrums to sit next to the woodstove with a good book? The latest addition to my collection is Tim Allard's "Ice Fishing: The Ultimate Guide". Tim hit a homerun with this one. There's over 200 pages loaded with useful information and high-quality photographs. He and a laundry-list of ice pros break down virtually every aspect of ice fishing and serve it in an easy-to-read style that all anglers - beginner or advanced - will benefit from. All the bases are covered from ice safety to clothing to entire chapters devoted to individual species. I already picked up some new tricks that I will employ on our annual lake trout excursion in February. Ice fishing techniques and gear are always evolving and Tim did a great job including the latest and greatest innovations from electronics to shelters. Ice outings are usually a target-rich environment and Tim has done well sharing awesome pictures throughout the book; you'd be hard-pressed to find a page without one. So whether you're a novice looking to get your feet wet in ice fishing or a hardwater fanatic looking to fine-tune your tactics, this book is for you.

Trout Bum(mer)

2011-01-20T07:59:00.000-05:00

Sketchy ice, deep snow and absent trout would accurately describe our latest escapade. We only managed two skinny browns between four anglers during a half day on the ice. The trout population in this body of water is noticeably hurting from a sharp decline of their main forage, land-locked alewives. Although illegally introduced, the alewives were the best thing that ever happened to trout in this lake. There are multiple reasons why the bait fish are lacking and it could be several years, if ever, before their numbers are back to where they once were. In the meantime, instead of beating myself up for a few emaciated trout, it's time to focus efforts elsewhere and maybe spend more time on other species, like walleye and northern pike. I'll always be a trout bum at heart though.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Tidal Ice

2011-01-16T23:21:00.002-05:00

Saturday was my first taste of ice fishing on a tidal river cove. Striped bass are known to hole-up here in the winter and jumbo yellow perch aren't uncommon. The plan was to jig for them since we left our sleds at home and scaled down to pack-baskets and 5-gallon buckets with jigging rods. We marked some bait and a few large signals suspended in the water column, but perch hugging bottom were the only fish we could coax into biting. A couple of smaller ones were sacrificed to feed a pair of Great Blue Herons that looked to be having a tough winter. Even without stripers, it was a good change of pace ice fishing so close to home and it was a great experience learning new water.

Snow

2011-01-13T09:08:00.000-05:00

I did manage to tie a few flies yesterday, but only after digging out cars, sidewalks and driveways from nearly 20 inches of snow. The Farmer's Almanac predicted it to be very cold and dry this winter. Well, they got the cold part right, but we are way above average in terms of snow fall amounts so far. I am not complaining right now, though I may be this weekend when I'm pulling a sled-full of ice fishing gear through two feet of powder.

Stocking Up

2011-01-07T11:10:00.002-05:00

It must be winter because the anticipated 'Tuesday Tying' sessions have resumed. Picture a half dozen guys in a basement, eating pizza, drinking beer and tying trout flies with college basketball on in the background. That about sums it up. I am more productive tying on my own, but these get-togethers break up the work-week and are always good for some laughs. It's also great tying with other anglers to pick up on subtle differences that can improve your own work. I will post some photos from these gatherings periodically throughout the winter.

Barred Owl roadkill going to good use

Ice Time

2011-01-02T22:02:00.008-05:00

Well another year has come and gone. Here is to a happy and healthy 2011! Hopefully this year is full of more memorable fishing. Below is a collection of photos of recent ice outings from between the holidays. Nothing real crazy to write home about in terms of size, but fish were caught on every trip. It was fun mixing it up for different target species, including walleye, pike, trout, largemouth bass, and smelt. Enjoy and be well!

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson

Jigging Fix

2010-12-26T18:46:00.005-05:00

Our first trout trip this winter was a far cry from what we'd hoped for, but it's hard not to have fun on the ice. We were the only ones on the lake that day; maybe because the ice was 3.5 inches thick, or perhaps it was the 30 MPH gusts. The wind had us confined to the portable shelter, which eventually fell victim to the wind when a pole snapped. Unfortunately, the bite was off too. We even packed up the shelter and moved basecamp a few hundred yards to no avail. A few trout did cooperate, and as always when fishing black ice, it was awesome watching them spiral towards the hole. Hopefully our next trout trip will yield better results, but that's why they call it fishing not catching.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson