White River Reflections

Rule #8:  Always clean your guns after shooting.

June 5   This year's inventory:

Rods: 

7.5 ft.          BPS                          Micro-Lite / Fiberglass             Power: UL      Action: Slow
7.0 ft.          BPS                           Micro-Lite / Graphite              Power: ML      Action: Fast
5.0  ft.         BPS                          Micro-Lite / Fiberglass             Power: UL      Action: Slow
6.5 ft.          Daiawa                    "COSMOACE" / Carbon          Power: MH     Action: Medium
7.0 ft.          Quantum                  KVD HSX6(8?)2 / Graphite     Power: M         Action: Fast
5.5 ft.          Shakespeare             Ugly Stik / Graphite                  Power: L         Action: Fast
5.5ft.           Shimano                   FX255OA                                 Power: M         Action: Fast

---> Also, two very old fiberglass casting rods, given to me by a good friend from his late father's fishing collection.
---> A "Rummage Sale Fly Rod," 8 ft.

Reels:

Daiwa         Model Unknown       Medium              Rear Drag
Okuma        Stratus V  25             Light                  Front Drag
Pflueger      President  20             Light                   Front Drag
Pflueger      President 20              Light                   Front Drag
Quantum    XS                             Medium              Rear Drag
Shimano     Model Unknown       Medium             Rear Drag

----> Shakespeare automatic fly reel attached to "Rummage Sale Fly Rod."

Last year, I found a satchel to use as a "soft" tackle box.  It is just the right size to hold the medium size tackle trays, and I can fitin  at least four of them--with some extra stuff on top and in the side, front and rear pockets.

Earlier this season, I found a similar bag for Small Fry and got her a couple of the appropriately sized trays.

White River Reflections

Rule #5:  Never wear your pants inside your boots, unless they're rubber (your boots, that is . . . if your pants are rubber, well, there just isn't a rule that covers that!).

Wednesday, May 9 

Small Fry and I started the season today by fishing the "Fisher Ponds."  As I've explained earlier, these ponds were at one time small and very deep gravel pits--probably spring fed--maintained by my uncle.  He and his wife also built a wonderful home on the banks of these pits.

I remember learning to fish "Indiana-style" here at these ponds when we came from Montana for vacation in the summer.  When we moved back here, I fished these two connected ponds for years until my uncle died and my aunt finally sold the place and I lost my best fishing hole.  As luck would have it, the folks who bought the property from my aunt are members at my church and one day, out of the blue, they told me I could fish there again!

It's very different now.  The current owners have changed its appearance greatly.  My uncle had a kennel for bird dogs built into the entire length of one side of the pond.  He--like my grandpa and the other brothers--was a barely civilized hillbilly from southern Indiana.  To get from one side of the pond to the other, he simply stretched the longest 2 X 12 boards he could find and called it a "bridge."

To knock back the surface weeds, they invested in a "herd" of grass carp, and have applied a pretty serious dark dye [I have found out it's called "Aqua-Shade"] to keep the sun from penetrating too deeply into the water.  Also, where there once was a small john boat I used to fish from, I now need to stick to the shore--and because I appreciate the opportunity to fish these wonderful ponds, Small Fry, The Boy, and I have set boundaries--we don't walk anywhere close to their house.  We've all agreed that we should keep from intruding on their lives as much as possible.  To that end also, we only fish there during the weekdays.

We brought a couple of rods each, a couple of tackle boxes, and--of course--a folding chair for me!  My first cast was  a green and white Wacky-Worm.  Before casting, of course, I said a prayer for Doc's Grandpa.  Grandpa was one of my very favorite fishing partners--but above that, he was a treasured friend.  "Pete" and I fished together even when his grandson, Doc, wasn't available to go.  He was truly an exceptional man.  I try to start every season with a cast dedicated to him. People who knew him would probably say it would be more appropriate if I threw a lure that could and/or would never catch a fish.  Grandpa owned some of the most bizarre-looking lures I have ever seen.  Also, we spent an inordinate amount of time pulling those weird-looking lures out of the tops of bank-side trees!

This was one of the most remarkable days I've had fishing with the Fry!  On her second cast of a bronze Rapala Floating minnow, she caught a large,  I think 3 year-old, bass.  I caught my first on the next cast, but then got a tangle on my reel.  By the time I got untangled--in about 10 minutes--Small Fry had caught 6 more bass!  After that, I was catching fish about one every 5 or 6 casts, but she kept up her "every other cast" pace!  In just about 25 minutes, we had 11 fish--all great eating size.  So, we stopped.  We didn't have enough ice or a cooler to keep things fresh, so that was all we could do.

We filleted and cooked all of them that night and they were just delicious!!  I am, once again, extremely pleased to be married to a woman who will let me clean fish in the kitchen.  In fact, I was going to pan fry them on the gas grill on the deck, but couldn't get the oil up to temperature and so had to even cook them in the kitchen!

All but one of the fish was female, with roe.  None of them had ANY food in their stomachs.  I think there is no doubt that the strikes were hunger-inspired.  Neither of us saw any nests, so, though it's odd, I don't think the fish have spawned yet.

Some things we are going to consider for the future:

1.  We're going to choose one of our many coolers to designate as a fish cooler.  The folks who own the Fisher Ponds want every fish caught to come out of the water--either to be eaten or thrown away.  If, though, we happen to catch a truly large bass, we'll throw that back.
2.  We need to keep on the pond at least once a week so we can better ascertain its rhythms.  To figure this out, I need to start my season earlier--even in late winter, as soon as the ice is gone.

November 15, 2017


Yeah, you know that when you have to include the YEAR in the date of a new post, you've neglected your writing!

To be fair, though, this blog has been largely a site based on outdoor observations and activities--and this past year or so has been a strangely interior time.  No qualification there; it's not good or bad, it just is.  Physically and otherwise, I have been inside until just recently.

And, as is usually the case now, it's my kids that have dragged my aging ass back into the woods and along the river.  Adam has continued his interest in shooting, and though he has moved a little over an hour away, we have been out several times.  In fact, just two weeks ago, we hunted my ex-wife's uncle's wood lot (only in Muncie is such a thing possible!).  Getting to the lot was challenging.  Normally, I can just drive my truck out to the site, about half a mile from the road.  But the field surrounding the lot, this year in soy beans, hadn't been harvested yet, so we parked between a derelict combine and the shell of the house trailer my ex's grandmother used to live in.  We soon found out that a field of beans is like a lot of things, very different when you're in the middle.  From the road, a field of beans looks like a mist rising from the dirt, almost fragile, and the stalks appear to be . . . oh, maybe a foot, foot and a half tall.

No.

In fact, soy beans are bristly.  They hold on to your pants like they NEED them, and they're about waist high and tightly spaced.  Fortunately,  we were not the first explorers to encounter this jungle.  Deer, and maybe people, but judging from the pointy halves of the tracks, certainly deer--had carved out a relatively easier way to pass through the field.

We didn't have any luck, but it was certainly fun getting out in the woods with Adam.  I wish so much that I had access to better hunting area to share with him.  This coming season (2018--2019) I'm going to make a concerted effort to expand our possible areas.  So far, we have:

1.  The aformentioned ex-in-law woods--although, this is a much bigger woods than the small part we have hunted so far.

2.  Sue Fisher's "ravine" area.  The only way to make this a reasonable place to hunt would be for Adam and I to work on the lot with some machetes or some similar "instrument of destruction."  As it is, there is almost NO way for a man to be quiet making his way through the tangles, and when you add another person, and it's amazing we saw anything living!

3.  Though I have not hunted it, Adam and I can shoot squirrels at the Monroe Township Conservation Club.  Last year, I saw a guy parked close to the rifle range and as I was driving by his truck, he came out of the woods with a handful of squirrels.  He explained to me where the majority of the squirrels were to be found (frighteningly near the target area of the rifle range).

And, that's pretty much it.  I don't own a shotgun with which I could take rabbits--or even deer--so right now, squirrels are about all that's on the menu.  I think I could kill a deer with my .357, but if you ask anyone who has ever seen me shoot a handgun, the overwhelming consensus would be that I'd need to sneak up to about ten feet away, and even then--it'd be sketchy!!  So, to use the .357, I'd have to mount a handgun scope on it--and I don't have the money to do that any time soon.

5/4/16

Rule #30:  Pay for good luggage, good shoes/boots, and a good watch.

Week of 5/1:  Plans, Prepping, and Possible Conditions

Thursday:  "Fisher Ponds"

*folding chair

*NET!

*"Big Yellow," 7' 6" BPS Micro-Light, ultra-light rod:

• Set up for a drop-shot wacky rig with either a 4" Dark Watermelon with Red Flakes, or 5" Baby Bass Senko-like worm.

*"Bank Pole," MH, 7 foot, line weight 10-25 lb., lure weight 1/4 -- 1 1/2 oz.:

• Set up with heaviest available line to fish deeper water with:
• jig/pig
• Rat-L-Trap
• Medium--Large Crankbaits, sinking or deep diving
• "drop-shot" Senko-like worms, largest
• white, 4" swim baits

*"Big Bronze," light weight pole, 4 lb. flourocarbon to fish shallow flats and shorelines with:

• Baby Bass Senko-like worm, wacky-rigged
• Darker, Watermelon/Red Flake Senko-like worm, wacky-rigged
• Smaller Spinner-bait

I know I'm breaking my two pole rule, but I'm trying to do a couple of things that I don't usually attempt.  First, I want to try to catch some bigger bass than I have been catching.  There's nothing wrong with 1-2 pound fish, but I know there are some much larger bass in there, and I suspect they're in deeper water.  Thus, the addition of the heavier "Bank Pole" to reach those fish.  I'm sticking with "Big Bronze," rigged the same way I had it last time I was there and had such success.  Also, I'm taking the "Galati" rig off of Big Yellow because I really don't see myself regularly bait fishing for the rest of the season.  I just prefer lure fishing.  Also, it's hard to dedicate one of my best outfits for a system of fishing that doesn't really require great equipment.  

Also, I'm bringing a net so that I can land any Channel Cat that I hook--for a change!

5/4/16


Rule #56:  If someone sticks a needle in your boob, you have unlimited permission to whine.

"Old Fishing 'Haunts'":  Lutheran Hills

I'm trying to remember how long ago this would have been--the rule of thumb anymore, when I try to figure out how many years ago something happened is to add ten years to my best guess!  So, when I first started going to Lutheran Hills Campground with Jeff and sometimes Jeff's family, would have been about 30 years ago.  I know I was still in graduate school.  I was writing my dissertation, because I remember combining a trip to IU's library in Bloomington with a visit to Jeff's family staying at the campground down in the Bicknell, Bean Blossom area.  The closest "town" to the campground is, if I recall correctly, Helmsburg.  Getting back to Lutheran Hills meant driving down miles of honest-to-God dirt/gravel roads.  One of the ways I have to date my experiences there is by recalling that the first time Sue, Jeff, Susan, and I went there, we did so after picking up Jeff from one of his first Mini-Marathons in Indianapolis--in Elroy, my first pickup truck!

[To give you an idea of how things have changed, after picking up Jeff, driving between Indy and the campground, we played a drinking game--whoever spotted water, on either side of the road first got to make everyone else drink!  The driver, as I remember, had a waiver--but I'll bet he didn't pass up too many drinks!]

Jeff's family had always gone to Lutheran Hills for vacations.  I think the campground was associated with the church they attended in Muncie.  We always stayed in the same hillside cabin that had several rooms, one with a few sets of bunk beds.  That first time was, I think, the only time just the four of us attended one of these trips.  After that, it was the usual Cheers crew, with Billy Burk thrown in for good measure now and then.   

The manmade lake itself was very large--probably twice the size of Windigo, so I'm going to estimate it at minimum 10 acres.  The deepest water was down by the dam/spillway.  One year, we knocked them dead using Rapala Shad Raps along the damn, initially cranking hard to get them down to 8 or 10 feet before making a steady retrieval.  They were stacked up along a point that jutted out from the left side as you faced the dam.   But most years, Jeff and I plied the cattail-lined shallows with Kelly's Pier-Boys, drinking Bud (me) and Bud Light (Jeff) until it was too dark to tell where to cast.  The fish were large for as numerous as they were--1.5--2.5 pounds, usually--bigger when you caught them deeper.

Of course, as the size of the group grew, and the level of power-drinking--if possible--along with it, we were eventually asked not to return.  It was, after all, a Christian campground, with everything that entailed.  I sure hope we didn't ruin that place for Jeff's family.

A couple of memories:

1.  The day I almost drowned!  I was fishing with Kirk Mace, a man who admittedly was NOT a fisherman.  He and I were in one of the flat-bottomed, V-prow 12-14 foot boats, and as I usually did when fishing with Jeff, when we got close to the area I wanted to cast to, I stood up.  Well, I suppose he was thinking that's what everyone did, so when I turned to look at Kirk, he was also standing, except instead of balancing his feet, one on either side of the center of the boat, he was perched almost all the way to one side.  Naturally, my instinct was to move to the other side to balance us out.  However, in moving from one side to the other, there is an initial moment when you have to increase your weight on the side you're leaving--you know, the side where Kirk was at the moment resting his not inconsiderable weight!  The boat flipped instantly.  I grabbed my tackle box in one hand and had my pole in the other.  Out of sheer laziness, I had not tied my high top tennis shoes, so they slid off, freeing my feet to paddle me to the surface.  [Yes, this is the origin of Rule #57.]  Kirk, who as a policeman, was trained in rescue asked me if I needed help to which I replied politely, that no, I didn't need ANY MORE of his help!

2.  I went down to Bloomington to research for my dissertation at the IU Library and then met up with Jeff's family.  I was, however, early by about two hours, so I stopped along the gravel road where there was an old cattle crossing bridge spanning a clear creek, 10--15 feet wide and anywhere from 1 to 2 feet deep.  It was lousy with Sunfish and Rock Bass!  I had to stoop over to get under the overhanging brush which sometimes cleared the surface of the creek by only 4 or 5 feet.   By the time the Birds saw my truck, honked, and I crawled out of the brush, I had a stringer of about 20 keeper-sized fish!  I think that sealed my reputation with Grandpa, who always bragged about my fishing skills--blowing them way out of proportion--but who am I to tell my elders that they're wrong?!!

4/29/16


Rule # Anything worth doing, is worth doing right.



Fishing:  White River



Prepping, Thursday PM

Weather

Temperature:  High, 66 degrees
Precipitation:  Very little chance.
Cloud Cover:  89%
Barometer:      30.03, flat-lined
Wind MPH:    7 MPH, from the NW

Solunar

The "Major" periods are both outside my comfort zone: the first begins at 6 AM, and the second at 7 PM.  The best "Minor" period is 12:05 PM -- 1:05 PM.  That'll have to do.

Lures, etc.

So, I packed up my highly embarrassing "Dork Bag," or fanny pack, with a small utility box and several pouches of soft lures.  I'm going to bring the shortest of my rods, the 5' ultra-light BPS Micro-Light rod, or "Little Yellow," and my bronze 6' 6" light-weight BPS Micro-Light.  My goal, then was to limit myself to four lures, two per pole--but, of course, I ended up with more!

For the bronze light-weight, I brought:

. . . not my hand.

. . . and though I didn't ever use it, I packed this Strike King Bitsy Jig and planned on pairing it with the Netbait Tiny Paca Craw.  I still think this combo will catch fish in the White River, but every time I plan on using it, when I get there, it just seems so huge--even in this diminutive sizes!












For "Little Yellow," I packed:

the ultra-light Panther-Martin inline spinner, size "0."  Even with the lightest weight pole I have, it's tough to get ten yards out of this little lure.  I got a couple of hits on this, but nothing that amounted to a hook-up.

. . . and, finally, I picked this Rapala, 1.5" floating ultra-light minnow.  On the first cast, I threw it upstream and let it sit until the waves faded away.  With my first twitch, I caught a small Rock Bass, or "Goggle-Eye."  I got it almost all the way in, but it shook off just before I would have pulled it out of the water!  I repeated that pattern and it resulted in a tiny (about 4"!) Smallmouth, a beautiful male Sunfish, and four more Rock Bass.  I quit for the day when a fish finally bit the lure off of the line.

This was the best day on the river I've had this year.  I wish I could get more Smallmouth to bite--at least bigger than 4"!, but I'll always "settle" for Rock Bass and Sunfish.


TALLY

Outings:  8 trips
Fish:     22.3 caught

4/24/16


Rule #47:  If at some point in your life you decide that the Beatles weren't really that good, you need to go back and listen to all of their songs again.


5 days out of the hospital, 16 days sober


Today was the best day of fishing I've had this year--for a number of reasons . . . back to that in a minute.

First, the conditions, setting, etc.

Location:  "Fisher Ponds"  

Time:  3:45--5:00, approximately

Solunar:  Average; Major II:  3:43--5:43 PM; Moon--89% Waning Gibbous (Isn't that a monkey?)

Waning Gibbon

Weather:

• 80 degrees
• Precipitation:  Report--"Trace," but on site it varied from sprinkle to steady; thunder.
• Cloud Cover:  It was cloudy throughout time period.
• Barometric Pressure: falling, 29.76
• Wind:  11 MPH, SW, gusts up to 18 MPH

Spawn Stage:  I didn't take the time to check more of the pond than I fished, but I fished along the bank from the jetty, around the cove to the south, and just beyond the big stump that sticks out from the southern-most shore, and saw clear evidence of nests all along that stretch.  I watched a pretty big Channel Cat defending his nest in the cove, but he was the only fish I saw actually guarding any nest.

I fished for about an hour; I didn't have as much stamina as I'd have liked.  I didn't keep count--'cause even MY "OCD" has its limits!--but I think I averaged a hit about every other cast.

I brought two rigs, my "Big Yellow," set up in a Galati Bait Rig, and my bronze light-weight 6' 6" rod with a 4" dark green Yum Senko-like worm with red sparkles.  Bass Pro Shops calls it "Watermelon Red Flake."  I'm pretty sure I got this package at Wal-Mart, however.  I'm also fairly confident that any plastic worm rigged as I had this one would have produced good results--the fish were just that active.  (Interestingly, when I cleaned the fish later, I inspected their stomach contents and without exception, NONE of them had eaten anything recently.  Also, there were about an even number of males to females.)

In rigging the worm "Wacky-Style," I buried the tip just inside the worm, with maybe 1/8" sticking out the other side.  The hits were all pretty violent and each of the ten fish I caught managed to pull the hook completely through the body of the worm, thus widening the original hole and making it worthless.  Because I then had to find another place to thread the hook through, I eventually had to discard the worm.  I went through 4 of these, counting the one I lost in the end.

All told, I caught ten bass.  Remember, the owners of "Fisher Ponds" wisely require that I keep everything I catch.  I don't know how many people fish the ponds, though I have never seen another person fishing when I've been there.  Also, though I have seen some very large bass cruising the shallows (3-6 pounds, certainly), the vast majority I've caught lie between .5 to 1.5 pounds.  They appear pretty healthy, if a little stunted, and so I think keeping everything is wise policy.  I can't get very good filets out of some of the smaller fish, but I've started scaling and gutting those so I don't waste so much meat.

I set up my chair at the usual spot, between "Ground-Hog Hill" and the shore, south of the little stone jetty on the eastern shore of the middle pond.  My first cast was parallel to the shore of that small cove, just to the south of where I set up.  The fish followed the worm, finally biting when it was only about ten feet from me, so I got to watch the strike.  In a pattern that repeated itself several times that day, another bass followed the hooked one as I reeled it in, trying, apparently, to steal the worm from the hooked fish!  This, along with their empty stomachs, would seem to suggest that appetite was triggering the strike.

I could clearly hear thunder in the distance, but there was no lightning, so I fished through it.  After I think about an hour and a half, I hooked a 3-5 pound Channel Catfish.  He was just about too much for the 4-pound test I was using on that lightweight rod.  The shoreline where I hooked him is made up of pretty steep banks, dropping straight down at least a foot and a half everywhere, so I couldn't just drag him ashore.  I decided to try to wear him down before I reached for him.  After "wrestling" with him for about ten minutes, I took a stab at grabbing the line a couple of feet from him in order to lift him to shore--he took one look at me approaching and shook his head, snapping my line right at the hook!

I know that fishing with light to ultra-light equipment means I'm going to lose the occasional fish, but I hate losing one with the hook and lure in its mouth.  Catfish, more than other species, can maybe survive those conditions, but I doubt he'll make it.

A "Good Day"

Though I always enjoy fishing, even when I don't catch anything, I won't ever deny that catching a lot of fish is a lot of fun!  Beyond that, I get immense satisfaction out of being outside in weird weather--blowing snow, thunderstorms, etc.  But in addition to these factors, on Tuesday, I was fishing during the 16th day since I'd had a drink.  I haven't really "imbibed" since the days when the Doc and I always brought a large cooler of "structure" with us when we fished.  But, still, it was good getting a good night's sleep the night before.

As Arlo Guthrie might say: "I'm not proud . . . or drunk!"

As soon as I got home, I cleaned my catch--scaling and gutting them instead of filleting--and cleaned up everything before getting into a hot shower and then my pajamas.  I was exhausted.  Five days out from a twelve-day stint in the hospital (the first ten of which I couldn't eat) may have been pushing it. But after dinner and a good night's sleep, I felt fine--and that's what I'm shooting for these days: fine.

TALLY:

Outings:  7 trips
Fish:      17 caught