6/24/09 Big Rock Creek
Posted: Fri Jun 26, 2009 11:50 am
It was hotter than hell. The humidity was repressive and I imagine this is what a jungle feels like. There was no wind and I was sweating profusely. But I had managed to get to Plano and Big Rock Creek after work, remembered to double check that I had all my gear in the car the night before, and made my first cast about 7 PM.
That's what I needed in spite of the overbearing heat and humidity.
I know I've walked the trail up stream quite a few times. It seems that every time I wander along here I come across something new. You have to figure that all these areas, though they may be new to us, have had people living here for well over 150 years. If anyone else has had the opportunity to watch a show that's been running called Life After People, you know how quickly most signs of people can disappear. In one or two generations what they did to the land and how they lived could simply vanish, leaving barely a trace.
This time I came across a tractor, sitting barely 40 feet from the path. I had never noticed it before.
This thing not only looked old, it looked like it had been sitting here for quite some time. The tires were into the ground a good foot and the steel and iron frame was starkly skeletal. Trees were growing through its frame.
Since I was standing in the middle of some pretty dense woods, I had to wonder not only how this thing got here, but why. Was this once a farm field or was the wide trail I walk on once a farm road. The tractor broke down one day and was left here. I've had the chance to see one time farms turn back into dense woods out in Virginia. We had before pictures and recent pictures. In 50 years it was as if the farm was never there. I think in the fall a little more exploring in this area will be necessary.
Out in the creek though the sky was intensely bright, the dense canopy of the trees cast deep dark shadows across everything. Perfect conditions for fishing small clear creeks.
Since my last visit here a few weeks ago, even more trees had come down to block my ability to wade down stream.
Frequent passages on shore were necessary and those weren't easy. The woods are extremely dense through here and loaded with thorns and poison ivy.
I saw one other set of foot prints while out and they were obviously having the same problem getting down the creek as I was. I was seeing them heading for the dense shore. I could tell by the prints that they too stopped, shuffled their feet as they considered their next move, then stepped into the woods with the decision that this was the lesser of two evils.
For the less than 2 hours out fishing, a half dozen smallies and 4 rock bass were caught. One smallmouth was slated to become part of the Greater Fox Valley Smallmouth Bass Taste Test, but he was feisty enough to get away while I struggled to get out a stringer.
I don't think I'll ever get tired of catching small fish out of small water.
Now and then a bonus big one can be caught, but the beauty of small water is to catch any of the fish that call it home. Size or kind doesn't matter.
The beauty of this time in June is the long days of sun light. I got back near my car as the sun set and it was almost 9 PM.
The lighted ball field was full of guys my age playing sissy softball with mitts.
I wondered briefly why I don't have that kind of team and community sensibility and prefer wandering down creeks by myself.
It was a brief thought, quickly interrupted by thoughts of what creek I was going to fish this coming weekend.
That's what I needed in spite of the overbearing heat and humidity.
I know I've walked the trail up stream quite a few times. It seems that every time I wander along here I come across something new. You have to figure that all these areas, though they may be new to us, have had people living here for well over 150 years. If anyone else has had the opportunity to watch a show that's been running called Life After People, you know how quickly most signs of people can disappear. In one or two generations what they did to the land and how they lived could simply vanish, leaving barely a trace.
This time I came across a tractor, sitting barely 40 feet from the path. I had never noticed it before.
This thing not only looked old, it looked like it had been sitting here for quite some time. The tires were into the ground a good foot and the steel and iron frame was starkly skeletal. Trees were growing through its frame.
Since I was standing in the middle of some pretty dense woods, I had to wonder not only how this thing got here, but why. Was this once a farm field or was the wide trail I walk on once a farm road. The tractor broke down one day and was left here. I've had the chance to see one time farms turn back into dense woods out in Virginia. We had before pictures and recent pictures. In 50 years it was as if the farm was never there. I think in the fall a little more exploring in this area will be necessary.
Out in the creek though the sky was intensely bright, the dense canopy of the trees cast deep dark shadows across everything. Perfect conditions for fishing small clear creeks.
Since my last visit here a few weeks ago, even more trees had come down to block my ability to wade down stream.
Frequent passages on shore were necessary and those weren't easy. The woods are extremely dense through here and loaded with thorns and poison ivy.
I saw one other set of foot prints while out and they were obviously having the same problem getting down the creek as I was. I was seeing them heading for the dense shore. I could tell by the prints that they too stopped, shuffled their feet as they considered their next move, then stepped into the woods with the decision that this was the lesser of two evils.
For the less than 2 hours out fishing, a half dozen smallies and 4 rock bass were caught. One smallmouth was slated to become part of the Greater Fox Valley Smallmouth Bass Taste Test, but he was feisty enough to get away while I struggled to get out a stringer.
I don't think I'll ever get tired of catching small fish out of small water.
Now and then a bonus big one can be caught, but the beauty of small water is to catch any of the fish that call it home. Size or kind doesn't matter.
The beauty of this time in June is the long days of sun light. I got back near my car as the sun set and it was almost 9 PM.
The lighted ball field was full of guys my age playing sissy softball with mitts.
I wondered briefly why I don't have that kind of team and community sensibility and prefer wandering down creeks by myself.
It was a brief thought, quickly interrupted by thoughts of what creek I was going to fish this coming weekend.
