6/17 and 22/10 Fox River and a Creek
Posted: Fri Jun 25, 2010 6:13 pm
A little late in getting these done.
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Friday the 17th was one of those perfect days to get out and I planned all day to do just that around Orchard Road for the last few hours of the day. Lower temperatures, lower humidity, bright blue skies and a few clouds just makes for a pleasant time to be out. I had been watching the river gauge all day and the river was dropping like a rock. By the time I headed out it had come down enough that I could wade across the river to the stretch I like. Problem was that the river was dropping like a rock. This always seems to screw up the fishing pattern. The fish can feel the water dropping and they tend to move around to accommodate that. They don't like to get trapped in lower water areas.
The best place to go when the river is dropping like that is near a dam. I seriously considered wandering to Yorkville near my house, but on principle I'll no longer fish near a dam. That attitude started years ago when the IDNR walked away from trying to stop the Dayton Dam from being relicensed. Denying the license would have opened up the possibility of having it removed, which would have opened up the Fox River to fish migrations from the Illinois River for the first time in 75 years. After initially moving ahead, I vaguely remember being told that they decided it wasn't worth their effort. Never did ask what brought about the change of attitude, I was too fed up with them to care.
Then the nail in the coffin, literally, was the death of three guys at the Yorkville dam in 2006. A few years earlier at a dam removal meeting in Batavia, I was told by someone high up at OWR that if one more person were to drown at Yorkville, the dam would get pulled with no further discussion. So much for that. I still stick to my principles on this issue even though no one knows or cares.
But I digress.
Kankakee River sage Norm Minas has commented many times over the years to watch the shores for wildlife activity when you get near the water you want to fish. The more activity on shore, the possibility of more activity in the water. Like most observations, there has to be deviations and failures. This was one of the days that didn't fit the theory.
There was plenty of activity. Rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks ran along the path through the woods that I initially walk. Ducks and geese were active on the water. All kinds of song birds could be heard throughout the trees and high overhead a red-tailed hawk screeched as it rode and updraft. When I got to the road along the river, on the other side standing and grazing on a small grassy island was a deer. This is very unusual to see while the sun is still high in the sky.
When I stepped out into the water I noticed the blue damsel flies everywhere. Fish feast on these.
I still didn't like the fact that the water had dropped so fast, but I was hoping that perhaps Norm might be right. I always wondered why these flies would attach themselves with their butt ends to sticks and grasses just below the surface of the water. I assumed it was some kind of mating ritual, so I finally looked it up. The bright blue ones you see are the males. The females will dive below the waters surface and crawl along the submerged sticks and grasses where they will dig in with their butts to lay eggs. The ones you see on the surface are males that have come down and they grab the females head with their butt end and bring it above the water surface so they don't drown. You've probably seen these damsel flies stuck together as they fly. When the female is done laying it's eggs, the male picks it up out of the water and flies it to shore where the female can rest and let it's wings dry so it can fly again.
Much cooler to watch than explain, but I had to know.
Initially things went like I thought they would down from Orchard Road. Couldn't buy a hit. This is an ideal shore that has produced well this time of year. All the cover and structure and current flow is normally a fish holding paradise. Except for today.
I crossed the river to fish behind the islands where the shore looks like some of the best smallie holding water there is. On good days, it is.
Two casts in the first few feet and I caught 2 smallies. I thought the next half mile was going to be one of those banner days of fishing. Instead it was one of those days of casting practice. Not another hit was had.
An old resting place, a park bench a few feet up from the shore, was starting to see better days. The owner never cared that I stopped here to take a break, he gladly shared his view of the river, but it's been awhile since I've run into him. Something must have happened. The slats of the bench were looking weak. The once fresh look of paint was gone and the tall grasses indicated that he wasn't wandering down here to sit along the river anymore. I thought of wandering up the hill and inquiring of the owner, but maybe our few brief moments along the river was how it was meant to be.
Some things are meant not to be known.
On the way back across the river to my car I stopped and stood in the middle of the river to watch the sun set and the clouds float by. If the clouds are lit up right I'll take a few pictures to see if they match what I saw, or thought I saw. Reflections on flowing water are fleeting. The riffles break them up and you never see the details, till you look at the pictures and the picture freezes the reflection.
I've begun to wonder about my motivation for coming here at sunset knowing very well the fishing would be mediocre at best. Perfect would have been a mid river boulder to sit on while I thought that over.
Tuesday the 22nd I had no intention of getting out since the sporadic weekend rains had raised and muddied the river again, but the end of my running around found me driving across the river at North Aurora. The river was high and a little muddy as was expected, but I also had to go do a visual check on the nearby creek since it was just down the road. Looked good even if a little high and stained.
Years ago I used to get to pick and choose the days I wanted to go fishing. Now the decision is made strictly on my ability to get out. That always doesn't translate to a good day of fishing.
The fishing wasn't hot and heavy and 4 dink smallies was all that was caught. But what was hot and heavy was the mosquito bite. The little blood suckers were relentless. I gave up on the idea of going to the mouth of the creek and instead hiked through the woods to go fish one shore line that has produced some nice smallies at high water in the past.
Huge mistake. I was dancing like an out of control marionette trying to swat bugs and dabble a shore line while oozing sweat in the repressive windless heat. That lasted about 2 minutes before I took off through the woods hoping to out run the blood suckers. Normally I stock up on a couple of handfuls of wild strawberries that are all over this area this time of year, but they weren't worth the pint of blood they would cost me.
I headed to Indian Trail Road in the hopes of a quiet shoreline and fewer mosquitoes.
I got both. Out from the shore for up to 15 feet and for as far down as you could see was the perfect eddy. You can't walk too far out from shore along here when the water is up. Been there, did that stupid thing years ago and spent much of my time drifting down the river with my toes barely touching the ground and the water almost filling my waders. The first cast got another dink smallie.
About 100 feet down was an underwater boulder making a boil. I patiently waited while some ducklings decided if I was a friend or foe, while their mother squawked loudly at them to get the hell out of there.
I was hanging a jig and twister in the lift in front of it and got 2 hard and heavy hits that teased me.
I went a few more feet, got bored and gave up. I wanted to be on the other side of the river where I knew the fishing was always better. But that was impossible. I couldn't get across and the other side had no shore access. The fish holding spots along that shore were all in perfect shape, only I couldn't get to them. I sat on a boulder tucked onto the shore perusing the possibilities of the opposite side. I heard myself say "I hate high water" then got up and went home.
I had to go home before I found myself trying something stupid.
_______________
Friday the 17th was one of those perfect days to get out and I planned all day to do just that around Orchard Road for the last few hours of the day. Lower temperatures, lower humidity, bright blue skies and a few clouds just makes for a pleasant time to be out. I had been watching the river gauge all day and the river was dropping like a rock. By the time I headed out it had come down enough that I could wade across the river to the stretch I like. Problem was that the river was dropping like a rock. This always seems to screw up the fishing pattern. The fish can feel the water dropping and they tend to move around to accommodate that. They don't like to get trapped in lower water areas.
The best place to go when the river is dropping like that is near a dam. I seriously considered wandering to Yorkville near my house, but on principle I'll no longer fish near a dam. That attitude started years ago when the IDNR walked away from trying to stop the Dayton Dam from being relicensed. Denying the license would have opened up the possibility of having it removed, which would have opened up the Fox River to fish migrations from the Illinois River for the first time in 75 years. After initially moving ahead, I vaguely remember being told that they decided it wasn't worth their effort. Never did ask what brought about the change of attitude, I was too fed up with them to care.
Then the nail in the coffin, literally, was the death of three guys at the Yorkville dam in 2006. A few years earlier at a dam removal meeting in Batavia, I was told by someone high up at OWR that if one more person were to drown at Yorkville, the dam would get pulled with no further discussion. So much for that. I still stick to my principles on this issue even though no one knows or cares.
But I digress.
Kankakee River sage Norm Minas has commented many times over the years to watch the shores for wildlife activity when you get near the water you want to fish. The more activity on shore, the possibility of more activity in the water. Like most observations, there has to be deviations and failures. This was one of the days that didn't fit the theory.
There was plenty of activity. Rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks ran along the path through the woods that I initially walk. Ducks and geese were active on the water. All kinds of song birds could be heard throughout the trees and high overhead a red-tailed hawk screeched as it rode and updraft. When I got to the road along the river, on the other side standing and grazing on a small grassy island was a deer. This is very unusual to see while the sun is still high in the sky.
When I stepped out into the water I noticed the blue damsel flies everywhere. Fish feast on these.
I still didn't like the fact that the water had dropped so fast, but I was hoping that perhaps Norm might be right. I always wondered why these flies would attach themselves with their butt ends to sticks and grasses just below the surface of the water. I assumed it was some kind of mating ritual, so I finally looked it up. The bright blue ones you see are the males. The females will dive below the waters surface and crawl along the submerged sticks and grasses where they will dig in with their butts to lay eggs. The ones you see on the surface are males that have come down and they grab the females head with their butt end and bring it above the water surface so they don't drown. You've probably seen these damsel flies stuck together as they fly. When the female is done laying it's eggs, the male picks it up out of the water and flies it to shore where the female can rest and let it's wings dry so it can fly again.
Much cooler to watch than explain, but I had to know.
Initially things went like I thought they would down from Orchard Road. Couldn't buy a hit. This is an ideal shore that has produced well this time of year. All the cover and structure and current flow is normally a fish holding paradise. Except for today.
I crossed the river to fish behind the islands where the shore looks like some of the best smallie holding water there is. On good days, it is.
Two casts in the first few feet and I caught 2 smallies. I thought the next half mile was going to be one of those banner days of fishing. Instead it was one of those days of casting practice. Not another hit was had.
An old resting place, a park bench a few feet up from the shore, was starting to see better days. The owner never cared that I stopped here to take a break, he gladly shared his view of the river, but it's been awhile since I've run into him. Something must have happened. The slats of the bench were looking weak. The once fresh look of paint was gone and the tall grasses indicated that he wasn't wandering down here to sit along the river anymore. I thought of wandering up the hill and inquiring of the owner, but maybe our few brief moments along the river was how it was meant to be.
Some things are meant not to be known.
On the way back across the river to my car I stopped and stood in the middle of the river to watch the sun set and the clouds float by. If the clouds are lit up right I'll take a few pictures to see if they match what I saw, or thought I saw. Reflections on flowing water are fleeting. The riffles break them up and you never see the details, till you look at the pictures and the picture freezes the reflection.
I've begun to wonder about my motivation for coming here at sunset knowing very well the fishing would be mediocre at best. Perfect would have been a mid river boulder to sit on while I thought that over.
Tuesday the 22nd I had no intention of getting out since the sporadic weekend rains had raised and muddied the river again, but the end of my running around found me driving across the river at North Aurora. The river was high and a little muddy as was expected, but I also had to go do a visual check on the nearby creek since it was just down the road. Looked good even if a little high and stained.
Years ago I used to get to pick and choose the days I wanted to go fishing. Now the decision is made strictly on my ability to get out. That always doesn't translate to a good day of fishing.
The fishing wasn't hot and heavy and 4 dink smallies was all that was caught. But what was hot and heavy was the mosquito bite. The little blood suckers were relentless. I gave up on the idea of going to the mouth of the creek and instead hiked through the woods to go fish one shore line that has produced some nice smallies at high water in the past.
Huge mistake. I was dancing like an out of control marionette trying to swat bugs and dabble a shore line while oozing sweat in the repressive windless heat. That lasted about 2 minutes before I took off through the woods hoping to out run the blood suckers. Normally I stock up on a couple of handfuls of wild strawberries that are all over this area this time of year, but they weren't worth the pint of blood they would cost me.
I headed to Indian Trail Road in the hopes of a quiet shoreline and fewer mosquitoes.
I got both. Out from the shore for up to 15 feet and for as far down as you could see was the perfect eddy. You can't walk too far out from shore along here when the water is up. Been there, did that stupid thing years ago and spent much of my time drifting down the river with my toes barely touching the ground and the water almost filling my waders. The first cast got another dink smallie.
About 100 feet down was an underwater boulder making a boil. I patiently waited while some ducklings decided if I was a friend or foe, while their mother squawked loudly at them to get the hell out of there.
I was hanging a jig and twister in the lift in front of it and got 2 hard and heavy hits that teased me.
I went a few more feet, got bored and gave up. I wanted to be on the other side of the river where I knew the fishing was always better. But that was impossible. I couldn't get across and the other side had no shore access. The fish holding spots along that shore were all in perfect shape, only I couldn't get to them. I sat on a boulder tucked onto the shore perusing the possibilities of the opposite side. I heard myself say "I hate high water" then got up and went home.
I had to go home before I found myself trying something stupid.
), so I'm hoping for a bit of clarity to capture some action shots.