5-4-08 Fox River the Long Version

[Ken G]

Got out Sunday morning at sunrise knowing the high skies would make for tough fishing and I was right. Picked up 4 smallies, two just over 16 inches, a walleye, a largemouth and a crappie.

There was a time when I practically lived in Mill Creek. I would have to go back and check my records, which I'm sure I won't do, but it had to be a good three years since I had fished the creek. So for about three days before going that's pretty much all I thought about.

Three years is a long time to be away from any stretch of water. But I've learned that in the Fox Valley, unless there's human intervention, things don't change very much. It's taken 10,000 years for the constant flow of water to cut through all the limestone to create what we currently have, so as long as people didn't go in and change things, I didn't expect much to have changed.

I got there as the sun was rising, a fog had settled over the low spot in the forest preserve and the gates weren't open yet. A familiar scenario that I had seen many times. I've been here in the past long before sunrise to fish topwaters on the clear water of the creek by the light of a full moon. It's a hike to the creek at that time, but well worth it. I've been here to well past sunset, the skies dark and the gate locked. But I had got to know the park ranger and if he saw my car in the lot late at night, he would close the gate and just hang the lock. I would then let myself out and lock up for him.

I know all the paths up and down the creek and once in the creek, I know all the holes, rocks, riffles and pools. When I got to the creek I looked down from the bridge to find hordes of quillback carp suckers heading up stream. Their pointed quills were sticking out of the shallow riffles like shark fins. I knew then not much would be caught from the creek. Years ago I had seen a quillback run like this a little further upstream on the Fox. There were so many of these fish that the shallows looked like they were boiling. I remember then too that catching any other fish species when this was happening was next to impossible.

A couple of weeks earlier I had been to Waubansie Creek in Oswego. There the river red horse were migrating up the river by the hundreds. I know in the past I've been to Big and Little Rock Creeks this time of year to see hundreds of suckers migrating inland. Each section of the Fox River, defined by how the river is blocked by dams, seems to have it's own fish species migrations. I don't recall seeing that many suckers in Mill Creek in the past. That would be a good question for the IDNR, whether or not dams have trapped certain species between them.

Since I had hiked in and was now standing looking down at the creek, I decided to head upstream regardless of how bad the bite was going to be. I had to see for myself how things did or did not change.

I noticed right off that the first stretch of the path was not that well worn. At the bridge that goes over the creek, I saw one other set of foot prints. Normally there are quite a few more. On the other side of the bridge I headed up another familiar path only to have it disappear about thirty feet in. It was gone. There was no sign of it anywhere. The underbrush had covered it completely. Trees had fallen and covered it even more. I had to bush whack my way through in the direction that I remember the path going. At times I had to go far off to my right, well past where the path should have been. I couldn't get to the spot I normally enter the creek because it was too over grown.

Once in the creek I was able to move upstream a little easier. I came across the set of foot prints again, but this was as far upstream as he went. I went another quarter mile and never saw them again.

Going further was not easy. Everything was thickly over grown. I recognized trees that I normally walked past on a path, but I couldn't even get near them. I almost gave up out of frustration because I was getting tired of getting hung up on thorny vines and meeting impenetrable under brush. But I could hear the water coming over the knee dam up ahead and I had to at least get there.

I've been given a tremendous amount of grief over the years for talking about specific spots. I've been told how the spots would be over run by anglers and ruined. I've always said that it didn't matter because after an initial interest, no one will go there. I've proven myself right again. This was more than a year's worth of growth that has covered these paths. If any one has been here, it hasn't been often.

The small limestone bluffs that lined the creek were as beautiful as ever. Not tall, but impressive none the less considering there proximity to urban life. Ducks were floating listless in the pool of the dam. A white egret settled onto a tall branch above me to watch for fish moving in the shallows. Everything had begun turning green and the forest floor was lit up with a variety of flowers. I've visited almost all of the creeks that enter the Fox, but none come even close to this. Three years was far too long to be away.

After an hour of half hearted attempts at catching fish, and catching a couple of smallies and a crappie, I headed back out. Till the migrations of carp, suckers and quillbacks end, smallies will be hard to come by in the creeks. In April there is a small window of opportunity to catch some big smallies. They come to stage for the spawn, but get muscled out by the quantity of other fish that want to be first. The migrations of the other fish should end soon, then the smallies will move back in. It's a matter of being there when that happens. I recall it happening almost over night at times.

After leaving the creek I wandered up the shore of the Fox. Tried a few lame casts into the high water of the river and quickly gave up. I know how fast and how hard 3200 cubic feet a second can push you around, but I forgot how deep that is. Now I remember. I kept walking up stream thinking of getting in the side channel that runs along here, but it just didn't look right. I didn't feel like fighting the river.

I drove pretty far down stream and hiked in another good amount. I wound up on a wall that had some nice current breaks running along its side. I was slowly reeling in a lure inches from the wall when I saw the first of the bigger smallies rush out and hit the lure hard. I crouched down on the wall and had to struggle a little to get the lure out from the inside of the mouth of the fish. When it finally came out, I dropped the lure into the water as I looked over the smallie. Nice and fat, obviously feeding well. As I put it back in the water and let go, my lure suddenly got smacked hard. I only had about three feet of line out and my rod was tucked under my arm. The rod almost got pulled into the water.

I lifted the fish and it was hooked under its jaw. It looked like the exact same fish I had just released. I'm certain that the one fish was still in my hand as the lure in the water got smacked. I got the hook out of its jaw, opened its mouth a looked inside. No hook marks. I know I had left hook marks in the other fish, I saw them. This one was clean and unhooked. Catching fish that look like twins has happened before. You wonder if you're catching the same fish over and over. It was a nice treat this time for the twins to be just over 16 inches.

I spent another hour even further down stream. Got in the water and was able to fish along the shore from the river side, the side I prefer. This area too I've waded from dawn to dark and know well. I knew if I stayed close to shore I would never get in water more than crotch deep and I wouldn't get knocked on my butt. A few more fish cooperated, but this was more of a celebration of being in the water. I didn't care about catching fish. I wanted to feel the water squeezing the air up and out of my waders. That steady pressure that builds up all along the legs. I wanted to feel that resistance when I walked, of water moving.

Then I got tired. I had already hiked a good four miles and now I was almost a mile from my car. I dragged ass all the way back to the car. Stopping to look at animal tracks, watch the birds feeding, poking through the underbrush looking for nothing in particular. It was just too nice out to not be out.

[Dan]

Great read:)

[bossbob50]

Superb, marvelous, splendide!

So good that having fished it, I don't have to fish it to be there. Glad to hear it is overgrown - keps the wienies at bay