For some reason I can wander around the woods hunting squirrels while the bow hunters are in their tree stands without a problem. There seems to be an unspoken agreement that I won't mistake them for a squirrel and shoot them out of their stand if they don't mistake me for a deer and put an arrow through my chest. This tends to work out pretty well.
But during firearm deer season all bets are off. Deer hunters using firearms apparently have a tougher time distinguishing between a deer and a person. Or that's the best I can make of why I can't be in the same woods with them. InFisherman once did a study on the education levels of fishermen based on the type of fish they like to pursue. Maybe the same study should be done for deer hunters.
So on a beautiful late November day with temperatures in the 50's, what other option was there but to go fishing. I considered going to Shorewood and fish the DuPage. But it was easily 10 years since I had been there and it was a 45 minute drive. I was having my doubts. Then I got a message from Kevin Summers, the Fishin Musician. He was going out and was planning on finding rock and wood that was in the water and sitting in the sun. Pretty simple theory really, they heat up, attract smaller fish, the bigger fish come in to eat them. It's one of those things that we know but we also know that we forget.
I live on the stretch of the Fox that flows east to west. The north side of the river sits in the sun all day. The area down stream from Orchard Road gives me three quarters of a mile of what Kevin described, all of which would be sitting in still water behind shore line eddies. It was 10 minutes from my house. That was a done deal, less time traveling equals more time fishing and a whole stretch fits this simple fishing theory.
I've been through this stretch so many times that I've got to know some of the residents that are lucky enough to live along the river. On the way to the put in point I stopped to talk to one that fishes his shore line on a regular basis. He griped that the unusually clear water this fall had shut down the fishing in front of his house. I told him to come with and do some moving around. He preferred to let the fish come to him.
On the way across the river three kayakers drifted by. I've got to know them over the years because they spend as much time on the water as I spend in it. They slowed down to ask how I was doing. "Well, the water is a little higher than I expected," I was in over my waist, "and the crotch leak in my waders is telling me that the water is damn cold." They weren't going far today, just down to Saw wee kee Park. They were feeling the cold too through the seat of their pants.
The north shore was exactly how I expected it. Relatively shallow, basking in the sun with a narrow eddy running along the shore.
The first cast landed a foot from shore. Another foot out and the jig and pearl twister got hit hard. I could feel the weight and the drag hummed a bit. I assumed this was going to be another one of those bigger fish that I would never get to see. This year I hooked and never got to land more big fish then all 13 years of fishing this river combined. It's been nothing short of humiliating to hook and feel so many heavy fish only to have them toss the lure before you get to touch them.
This one I knew I had. It feels different when you have a solid hook set and it becomes a matter of just bringing it in. This one measured out at 15 inches.
I walked over to where I had hooked the fish. It was barely 15 inches deep and no structure. It did have a school of carp swimming around. This is another old theory, always cast to where you see carp feeding. Smallies will sit in with them. The carp stir up the bottom, minnows come to feed on what has been stirred up and the smallies attack the minnows.
With over a half mile of excellent shore line to fish practically identical to this, I was trying not to get excited about how this was going to be a pretty good day of fishing. I convinced myself it was a fluke. A hundred feet later I got another hit and the fish fought hard. But the fight was deceiving. The smallie was a dink that didn't know it was a dink. It had been hanging out in shallow water near a downed tree and came out a few feet to hit the jig. The water wasn't even a foot deep.
Now I was looking forward to a good day of fishing, but it wasn't meant to be. I came across one shore line eddie after another, all looked promising and should hold something.
Nothing, not even a hit.
The next stretch behind an island looked even better. Boulders sitting in the sun. I knew the water out in front of it would be almost 4 feet deep. With the crotch leak I wasn't looking forward to walking through that for a couple of hundred yards, but it had to be done.
Another big nothing. By the time I got half way down this stretch my toes had gone numb. I had layered up what I thought was correctly, but I didn't take a break on shore to warm up and now I was paying for it. Now I couldn't make it to shore, I would have filled my waders. No choice but to keep going.
More excellent looking water that was glowing in the setting sun and still nothing.
And then I quit fishing. My legs were now numb from the knees down and an hour in water over my waist was taking its toll on the crotch leak. I knew better, I knew I should have been taking those shore breaks. I was done. I decided to skip the last few hundred yards and enjoy the walk back across the river. High blue sky over head and gold hues of the setting sun had me stopping just to admire the views up and down the river.
I hardly adjusted these pictures at all. That's just the way things were being lit up.
I walked just fast enough across the river to warm up my legs a little, but slow enough to catch every last part of the suns departure on the horizon. I like being in the water when this happens. The reflection of the sun and the sky on the water surrounds you in color and the intensity of it all temporarily blinds you. I purposely take pictures directly into the sun at that point. I can barely make things out since the sun and the colors burn the retina and blurs your focus. Not till you get home and open those final shots on the computer will you know whether of not you got any thing worth while.
And there's a good chance you'll see that bright spot in your vision for most of your ride home.