I no longer have the luxury to pin point my fishing trips that way. Saturday of this weekend was my only opportunity to get out. Saturday morning to be more exact. The weather for that time period did not look good. Thunderstorms rolling through starting Friday night and rain lingering through out the morning.
Saturday dawn I was up with the first light. Looking out the window I didn't see any real sign of a major rain like was called for. Checking the weather maps and radar, for some reason the storm had stalled and thinned out as it headed in this direction. Rain was still called for but the radar wasn't showing anything that bad. So I headed out since this was the time I had. Whatever the weather dealt me I would have to deal with.
It wasn't that bad out. Low gray sky, but just a light mist in the air. I could deal with that. I hadn't fished Saw wee kee Park since fall and the water levels were low enough to let me go anywhere I wanted in the stretch from Orchard Road down.
For some reason they are doing a major clearing of the area up and down stream of the canoe launch. Taking out all the brush and cutting down quite a few of the trees. Not sure how this is an improvement. The bluff along the river is so steep here that I would think the lack of brush and trees would wash quite a bit of dirt and rock down into the river. But I'll withhold any further opinion till I see how it all looks in June when everything has grown and filled the area.
At one time virtually all of the land along the river in this stretch was privately owned. This area had been strip mine pits. I've walked all around them over the years hoping to find a few that may have turned into decent fish pits, but they all seem to be shallow and weed choked. A few looked like they held promise, but I've made the mistake of walking around them in July. It doesn't matter how much Deep Woods Off you put on, it seems to attract the mosquitoes even worse. In spring they do look pretty good though. A picture from a better weather day.
This was taken in April after some heavy rains so the pits had a fair amount of water in them. Even that early in the year the surface was already getting covered in duck weed. I've seen them weed choked.
The clear cutting of the shores revealed remnants of private property past. Though they had cleared almost all of the trees in this area, when they came to the remnants of an old gate they left it alone. A couple of posts, some rusty barbed wire and a top rail that a tree had taken a liking to had been left to take on the look of some pieces of outdoors sculpture. A sculptor I used to hang out with 30 years ago used to go exploring out in farm country looking for just this type of thing. He would then try to recreate them as art. Never did turn out this good.
I was going to document more of the clear cutting that had been done, but I wanted to be fishing. I figured I could get some shots when I was coming off the water.
Started out fishing the south shore of the river. Another month and this shore will be an opportunity to pick up a few fish in the 18 inch range. Today I knew it was a long shot and except for rolling a carp, nothing was happening. I moved to the north shore behind the islands. One stretch back there fits the description of the type of water to fish in early spring. The added benefit is that it is a long stretch of slow water too. I had to cast tight into the rocks and move the jig and twister slow, but this got the hits I wanted. Landed a little smallie and was going to take its picture. But by now the rain had been coming down pretty steady, the wind had picked up and my fingers were numb. I didn't feel like fighting the elements just for the photo.
A couple of more casts into the rocks and a 12 inch smallie hit. I thought of keeping this one for my smallie taste test. Of the few thousand smallies I've caught out of the Fox over the years, I've never kept one. I've always wanted to know if they are good dinner fare and keeping one from the clearer, colder water of spring would improve their taste. I thought of my stringer, I think it's in the car, damn. I thought of taking a picture. Now it was raining just a little harder. Forget it, let it go.
I doubted my memory and checked the pocket where I keep the stringer. It was there after all. Memory lapses like this didn't happen in the past, but at 54 I guess this is something I may have to start getting used to. As long as I don't forget how to fish or where, I'll deal with the other lapses.
A couple of more casts and a 14 inch smallie was brought in. This one went on the stringer. Two more weeks and the opportunity to keep a smallie goes away till June 15th. My daughter is the other critic in The Great Northern Illinois RIvers Only Smallie Taste Test and this fish was the perfect size for a couple of good filets.
In a 30 foot stretch of shore I had just picked up 3 smallies increasing in size each time. I had another 100 feet of rocky shore to fish before it ended and I was hoping the fish size would keep increasing as I went. But at that point the weather went from tolerable to shit. The wind picked up and it got colder. Pin pointing a cast became increasingly difficult. The wind was putting a bow in the line so even if I did get a hit, I wouldn't know it till it was too late to set the hook. Which happened twice.
I had only fished behind the first island and there were two more to go. As I combed the shore the conditions continued to get worse. I knew by then I was rushing my casts and not putting them right where I wanted them. But my hands were getting numb and control was deteriorating quickly. I also noticed I was wading along faster. I don't recall doing this consciously.
By the time I made it behind the third island, usually the best of the 3 to fish behind, the wind was howling, small white caps were moving up the river and the heavy rain was coming down just shy of horizontal. I had enough, but I was still too far from my car. I kept casting out of habit even though I knew I was wasting my time. Nothing was landing where I wanted it to be. The walk across the river to the canoe launch was like a death march. I kept thinking I should take pictures of the clear cut shore line. I would lift my head and the wind would blow the rain into my eyes and sting them so hard I found myself walking across the river with my eyes closed. Luckily I know this stretch like the back of my hand. I didn't need to see where I was going, I could just feel it with my feet.
As soon as I got on shore the rain started to lighten and the wind eased up a mile or two per hour. Doesn't that figure. I felt like the waders and rain gear I had on did absolutely no good. I was cold and felt like I was soaked all the way through. Luckily that wasn't true, at least the soaked part. The cold must have been making me feel that way.
I threw everything in the car. I normally don't like to drive home in wet waders, but there was no way I was standing around out there trying to change into something dry. It wouldn't be by the time I was done anyway. I would just have to put up with my car seat smelling like the river for awhile.
By the time I got home, a short 5 mile drive, the rain had stopped, the wind died down and off to the west bits of blue sky was trying to break through the clouds. That figures. After getting into something dry and warming up a little I fileted the smallie.
I knew when I caught it that it was fat with eggs. It's that time of year. I'm sure there are those that think killing and eating smallies is something that should never be done. But that's what they get for tasting so good. As we used to say at a club I once belonged to, first we'll catch and eat, then we'll catch and release.
I always take apart the fish I clean. I want to know what they were eating and in this case, what stage of the spawn they were in. The stomach contents verified that my choice of something that looked like a 3 inch minnow was a good choice. I was able to take out the roe sacks intact. I've eaten all kinds of roe in the past . . . trout, salmon, sturgeon, even bluegill and crappie. I thought I would give these a try. I vaguely remembered that all the roe I've eaten has been smoked, pickled, poached or raw, but I thought I would just quickly pan fry these in a little butter. I didn't want to add anything to it so I could get the true taste of the roe.
As I stood at the stove frying them up, my wife came up.
"What the hell is that?" she asked.
"Smallie roe," I said and I explained to her the others I've had.
"It looks like you're cooking a babies scrotum." (Trust me, she didn't say scrotum. It was a bit more descriptive).
Just then the sac split open and the eggs fanned out into the hot butter. They began exploding like popcorn all over the stove.
"Oh, that's just not right," she said. "If you eat that, don't even try kissing me tonight."
Whatever, I think my shrug said.
The popping eggs were getting out of control. Now I know why I've only had them the way I described it. Frying is not the way to go.
I tried a couple of chunks of the eggs. Not bad. Then I got a mouthful of some that weren't completely cooked. I spit it out in the sink.
"Serves you right," I heard from behind me. "Bet you won't be doing that again."
That bet would be a sure thing.
