6/7/09 A creek and the Fox
Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 4:12 pm
After a long and tiring week it was nice to spend the weekend with my daughter. We had planned this weekend for almost a month and had many conversations about where we were going to go fishing. And how we were going to go about it.
This daughter is the natural angler. At 19 she can now read water almost as well as I can. Whether it's still water or moving. I've had her out fishing since before she was two. At three she learned how to use spinning gear, Zebco's were never a consideration. She insisted on using what daddy used. By the time she was four she was casting topwater lures up to 50 feet with deadly accuracy. At 12 years old she was an old pro, hooking and landing largemouth bass up to 5 pounds without a hitch.
A few years ago at the B.A.S.S. tournament held here in Chicago, we sat in the old Soldier Field stands watching bass pros pull fish out for measuring and admiration. As they appeared on the big screen behind the stage you'd here this girly voice next to me repeat . . . dink, dink, dink, I can do better than that.
I've only had her out wading a few times. Wading is different, it's not sitting in a boat puttering around a lake. It's hard. She also hates wet wading as much as I do and I never got her waders. This time she got to wear an old pair of mine and it seemed to make all the difference. So I wanted to give her a better idea of what I had been doing all these years while out fishing. I gave her fair warning of what to expect.
The plan was to get her out to Little Rock Creek, bush whack our way to a far end and fish our way back. In theory every thing went well until we got to the creek, crossed it and I hopped up on the shore and stepped into the woods to size up what we were up against. We were up against a solid wall of woods and thick brush. I came back to let her know we were changing our plans. I think she said "good, cause I'm not going in there," or something like that.
We decided to fish up and downstream from where we were. Primarily down stream.
The water was in excellent condition with minnows, small suckers, shiners and creek chubs everywhere. There were just enough deeper areas that promised the occasional smallie, but that never happened. It was just one creek chub after another.
I had checked out a section of Little Rock further upstream a few weeks earlier and had the same fish catching results. The floods of March had completely changed that stretch of the creek. I would imagine the floods had the same effect here. There were practically no old deadfalls, but there were plenty of new ones that had fallen across the creek. You could tell they were new by the fact that they had completely leafed out even though they were laying across the creek.
For the most part we were able to crawl under them. But one had us hacking our way through the shore line brush. The lush green that covered the fallen tree was thick spirals of poison ivy covering the whole tree.
After an hour and a half of getting our fill of catching creek chubs we decided to go hit the Fox near Oswego and see if we could pick up a few smallies. With the river flowing at 1400 cubic feet per second, getting around this area would be relatively easy.
On her fifth cast, for some reason she was counting, Nina tied into a nice fish that had the whippy rod she was using almost doubled over. The fish kept darting out into the faster current making her drag hum. She eventually landed a nice 16 incher.
A couple of casts later in same area I landed a 17 incher. Since I don't need any more pictures of me holding fish, I handed it to Nina for the shot. Beats the arms length shots I've been taking lately.
Even though the water wasn't all that clear, the fish all had pretty good markings. The clearer the water, the clearer the markings, so it was nice to see the distinct vertical bars.
A little further down and I landed a 15 incher.
And then there was a lull in the action. A long lull. We fished every imaginable type of water. I convinced Nina to take a walk with me across the river to an area where the wading would be tougher, but the bite might be better. The wading was tougher and the bite was non-existent.
We headed back across the river and I was able to get one more that measured out at 14 inches, then fell back into the water before a picture could be taken. Toward the end of the stretch we wanted to fish I made a comment about how now you know what I've been doing all these years while out fishing.
She loved the wading and was surprised that even though it was tiring, it was also extremely relaxing. I pointed out that you have no choice but to slow down. I told her to try to walk faster, it was next to impossible. I pointed out how slow we were fishing, the fish wouldn't have hit anything moving faster. And then there's the quiet. Nothing but birds and the soothing sound of water over rock.
For the whole time in the river we had only six hits, but at least we hooked and landed four of them. That was a surprise to me. The conditions seemed so much better.
She claims to be coming out again in a couple of weeks. I guess we'll be getting out again. By then the smallie catch and release period will be over and we can go around collecting a few fish for our Smallie Taste Test.
But the blackberries and mulberries should be ripening by then. I guess we'll have something else to do.
Di makes a killer blackberry/mulberry cobbler.
This daughter is the natural angler. At 19 she can now read water almost as well as I can. Whether it's still water or moving. I've had her out fishing since before she was two. At three she learned how to use spinning gear, Zebco's were never a consideration. She insisted on using what daddy used. By the time she was four she was casting topwater lures up to 50 feet with deadly accuracy. At 12 years old she was an old pro, hooking and landing largemouth bass up to 5 pounds without a hitch.
A few years ago at the B.A.S.S. tournament held here in Chicago, we sat in the old Soldier Field stands watching bass pros pull fish out for measuring and admiration. As they appeared on the big screen behind the stage you'd here this girly voice next to me repeat . . . dink, dink, dink, I can do better than that.
I've only had her out wading a few times. Wading is different, it's not sitting in a boat puttering around a lake. It's hard. She also hates wet wading as much as I do and I never got her waders. This time she got to wear an old pair of mine and it seemed to make all the difference. So I wanted to give her a better idea of what I had been doing all these years while out fishing. I gave her fair warning of what to expect.
The plan was to get her out to Little Rock Creek, bush whack our way to a far end and fish our way back. In theory every thing went well until we got to the creek, crossed it and I hopped up on the shore and stepped into the woods to size up what we were up against. We were up against a solid wall of woods and thick brush. I came back to let her know we were changing our plans. I think she said "good, cause I'm not going in there," or something like that.
We decided to fish up and downstream from where we were. Primarily down stream.
The water was in excellent condition with minnows, small suckers, shiners and creek chubs everywhere. There were just enough deeper areas that promised the occasional smallie, but that never happened. It was just one creek chub after another.
I had checked out a section of Little Rock further upstream a few weeks earlier and had the same fish catching results. The floods of March had completely changed that stretch of the creek. I would imagine the floods had the same effect here. There were practically no old deadfalls, but there were plenty of new ones that had fallen across the creek. You could tell they were new by the fact that they had completely leafed out even though they were laying across the creek.
For the most part we were able to crawl under them. But one had us hacking our way through the shore line brush. The lush green that covered the fallen tree was thick spirals of poison ivy covering the whole tree.
After an hour and a half of getting our fill of catching creek chubs we decided to go hit the Fox near Oswego and see if we could pick up a few smallies. With the river flowing at 1400 cubic feet per second, getting around this area would be relatively easy.
On her fifth cast, for some reason she was counting, Nina tied into a nice fish that had the whippy rod she was using almost doubled over. The fish kept darting out into the faster current making her drag hum. She eventually landed a nice 16 incher.
A couple of casts later in same area I landed a 17 incher. Since I don't need any more pictures of me holding fish, I handed it to Nina for the shot. Beats the arms length shots I've been taking lately.
Even though the water wasn't all that clear, the fish all had pretty good markings. The clearer the water, the clearer the markings, so it was nice to see the distinct vertical bars.
A little further down and I landed a 15 incher.
And then there was a lull in the action. A long lull. We fished every imaginable type of water. I convinced Nina to take a walk with me across the river to an area where the wading would be tougher, but the bite might be better. The wading was tougher and the bite was non-existent.
We headed back across the river and I was able to get one more that measured out at 14 inches, then fell back into the water before a picture could be taken. Toward the end of the stretch we wanted to fish I made a comment about how now you know what I've been doing all these years while out fishing.
She loved the wading and was surprised that even though it was tiring, it was also extremely relaxing. I pointed out that you have no choice but to slow down. I told her to try to walk faster, it was next to impossible. I pointed out how slow we were fishing, the fish wouldn't have hit anything moving faster. And then there's the quiet. Nothing but birds and the soothing sound of water over rock.
For the whole time in the river we had only six hits, but at least we hooked and landed four of them. That was a surprise to me. The conditions seemed so much better.
She claims to be coming out again in a couple of weeks. I guess we'll be getting out again. By then the smallie catch and release period will be over and we can go around collecting a few fish for our Smallie Taste Test.
But the blackberries and mulberries should be ripening by then. I guess we'll have something else to do.
Di makes a killer blackberry/mulberry cobbler.
Nothing like getting out with your kids and doing some fishing, though! I can't wait until my little girls are old enough to put a pair of waders on. Thanks for sharing!