..... why I dropped my blog on FHQ.
..... why birds of a feather flock together.
but there is no good reason why you decided to insert more stress into your day this evening Ken. Shame on you.
I don't think useless is the right word, but it comes mighty close in these matters. Everything happens for a reason.
I'm done with participating and contributing on forums (except yours
). Life's too short to worry about 99% of the b.s. on them anyway.This is way more fun and rewarding anyway:
~ The Fall Walleye League ~
As I stepped out into my garage, also know as "the fishing shrine" by my neighbors and loving spouse, the air still faintly reminiscent of cool harbor water and stale fish slime, I made my way to my tackle collection. It was late, I had a long day at work, but with the kids tucked-in and my wife already upstairs for her evening soak in the tub, I had to take advantage of the time I found available. I had already begun to stack and pack the toys and miniature vehicles that kept my kids busy all Summer long. However, with the unseasonably warm temperatures of late, some of those items had curiously made there way back out and had been left almost deliberately in my way. A Dad's work is never done I suppose. I intended to put the final nails in the coffin on my Fall Salmon fishing by stowing all of that gear. It was a great season, and I will keep many fond memories with me for years to come, but I had to make ready for the final open water push of fish. The equipment I utilized in the harbors up North was still lounging around the boat, cluttering up my tackle bench, and needed to be quickly inventoried in case I happened upon a sale over the winter on some things I may have lost during battle. As I was finishing up and closing my tackle bag, I came to the realization that I needed to reorganize my tackle to incorporate some of the shallow-running jerkbaits I just put away into my Fall Walleye bag. The tried and true Husky Jerks, Rattlin' Rogues, Storm Thundersticks, and Yozuri's that I just packed away for next year's salmon season need to come back out if I expected to be able to find the trigger for those wary Fall walleye. After all, the stereotypical jig n' twister just doesn't cut it all the time. Over the past several weeks I have been conversing with a group of core anglers that frequent the same social circles as myself about having our own "League Night". You know, like bowlers have a league night where they get together, enjoy a few rounds of their favorite sport, maybe a couple cold beers, some nachos, etc... you get the idea. I myself am not a bowler, well at least not anymore, with shoulder surgery, tendinitis flare-ups, how silly I look in those awful vinyl shoes, well I digress.
Anyway, last Fall we organized a similar arrangement with some folks from http://www.fishing-headquarters.com, only it was dubbed as something more competitive, and interest seemed lacking for whatever reasons. Last year's walleye bite on our chosen fishing grounds was far below average for that location. More than a few of us left the river without as much as a bite most if not every night. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, but it also left me wanting something more out of the next season. So, with a goal in mind, I set out on a quest to find as much information about prime walleye waters in my local arena. Many rivers and lakes came to mind, but none as prominent as my hometown flow, the Fox River. It was local for some, and within a reasonable driving distance for the others. It was currently at or near normal pool, and steady flow. It has a reputation for good numbers of both stocked walleye, and even some healthy roll-overs from the Chain-of-Lakes up stream. It also was nearly a completely unknown body of water for most of my fellow "Leaguers". It was perfect water for some exploring, some fishing, some learning, and hopefully some good times amongst friends.
My plan was simple, and the word went out. We would start at the furthest point North within a reasonable distance to allow for fishing after work on Monday nights. I began scouting our season opener location weeks in advance. I utilized all of the tools at my disposal, current digital maps, recent reports, past reports, local bait and tackle shops suggestions, and even the advice of the highly respected river sage, Ken Gortowski. Ken and I prattle back and forth on occasion, sometimes about our exploits on and around the Fox river, and sometimes about what amounts to be almost nothing at all. Regardless of the topic, it's always a pleasure to hear from him, and I'm equally delighted to absorb any ounce of knowledge he is willing to impart. Nevertheless, after all was said and done the current conditions of the river, a suitable nearby parking lot, and some quality information derived from previous years reports (this will be a point to note later), all pointed to my choice for the Fall Walleye League's opener, Lion's Park in South Elgin, IL.
It held many prominent features that would point to a likely haunt for feeding Fall eyeballs. It was directly below a rather large man-made dam that was practically impassible for migrating fish thus making it a roadblock of sorts for staging fish. A long stretch of winding riverbed directly below the area was sure to contain a multitude of current washed holes and pools that made excellent holding areas for fish during the warmer months. There was also a very prominent "neck-down" area around the islands that protrude just to the South of Lion's Park. It's areas like this that I look to for their ability to concentrate fish as well. With only a small area for the water to travel through, fish on the move would surely utilize this water, as well as the slack water "rest-stops" directly below and above. This gave our group a nice section of river to pick apart from top to bottom over the course of our inaugural session.
So when the day finally came, and arrangements were made, myself and two other earnest anglers were the only ones without scheduling conflicts to bar us from putting the plan in motion. Local guide and prominent outdoor writer Cory Yarmuth of Legend Outdoors was the first to arrive shortly before daylight took it's last breath. In fact he beat me to the location and even called mid-river to confirm his arrival and offer an update on conditions. He had already tied into a healthy river smallmouth bass near a lay down, and even though he observed some alarmingly low water levels, his optimism was clearly discernible over the sound of rushing water beneath him. I assured him I was merely moments away, and ended the conversation struggling to find reprieve from the glaring ball of fire now looming right at the sparse treeline directly in front of me.
As I jumped out of my car and began "suiting-up", the sun was now completely set, and it's remaining ambient light was just enough to guide my tired hands around the various buckles, snaps, and loose clothing to get me comfortable and on my way towards the water. I was already tied up with a 3" Matzuo jerkbait in a river shiner pattern that I had taken a liking to many seasons ago. As if almost by instinct, I was unconsciously breathing heavily through my nose to dwell in the thick aroma surrounding me. It was 70% burning leaves and twigs as well as food cooking over an open fire and 30% something less desireable. The smell was savory, not just the food but the leaves too, I could almost taste it. That quickly brought to my attention that the remaining odor was mixed vehicle exhaust and river water. No other river water smelled like the Fox. With an overabundance of urban sprawl surrounding it's shorelines, treatment plant effluent now makes up a large portion of the river's water supply. Years of farm and roadway run-off have changed the once rock strewn babbling waterway into an inconsistent mix of silt, muck, gravel, and the odd rock bar here and there. I've known folks to be turned off by this river smell, but flashes of my childhood spent chasing crawfish and battling the occasional river fish danced through my head as I casually strolled to the waters edge.
I spotted Cory a ways down river standing just off-current from a nice lay down and I made may way slowly towards him. The river clarity was poor, hardly 3 or 4 inches. Even in the dusk's dim light, I could tell the gray/brown turbid water was not normal for the river this time of year and so far from any recent rain. Yellow, red, and orange leaves cascaded downstream occasionally, spinning around in the current like miniature sailboats caught in a squall. My movements through the water were extremely clumsy and even though I was only walking through shin to knee deep water it was difficult to smooth my pace and feign grace. The cool water on my legs felt strangely comforting, and as I got nearer to Cory I slowed my pace, almost gliding along with the river at it's flow rate. we exchanged pleasantries, a few words about this and that,
... work in progress....
