River Report: Too Big For Your Britches

I made it to the river early this week. I slid down the bank on a well-used deer path and waded in for a go at some steelhead.

I shared the river with a couple of muley does who were finding respite from the ongoing stress of the deer season. Me, too; all in all I'd rather be fishing the river while hunters are roaming around Trout Lake.

I worked the Bridge Run thoroughly. I caught a fish. He was the definition of "too big for your britches." You gotta love a fish like that.

There was more Chinook activity than the last time I was here. It looked much more like old times.

I backtracked under the bridge and headed upstream to the Glide.

I fished some riffles and runs on the way, but the only fish I saw were defunct salmon.

I worked the Glide over pretty good. But no fish.

It was dusk, and getting dark fast, when I reeled in, crossed the river on a gravel bar, and started my wade downstream to the bridge.

Halfway back I located another well-worn deer path up the bank and clambered out over the roots and stones into an open field.

It was an easy walk back to the truck--on solid ground rather than through the dark, rocky river.

I decided that was my best move of this trip to the river. But I'll be back.

Lake Lemon Report: Tops

I'm going to miss the lake opener at home tomorrow, but I went fishing today.

I'm in Indiana visiting my daughters and grandkids. Iris just turned two, so she, her mother Laura, and I went to the store today so she could pick out one of her presents from Grandpa--a fishing rig. I had been thinking of it, but wondered if Laura would think she was too young. So I was glad when Laura herself brought it up. Laura and I had some good fishing trips together when she was a girl.

Iris ignored the pink princess poles and went straight to a red and yellow Cars rig. Good choice.

After lunch we went outside and dug some worms. We were ready for Iris's very first fishing trip.

This is Lake Lemon. Laura called it a little lake but it's pretty good-sized. There were guys out in boats looking serious about their early season tactics.

We rigged up and cast out. I baited the hook and did the casting and Iris held the rod and learned how to reel in the bobber. She liked that part.

She knew from what we had told her that the bobber would move when a fish ate the worm so she kept a sharp eye on that bobber. But it didn't move.

Iris got a little bored after awhile, so Laura picked up the rod and cast out..and down goes the bobber. Laura hasn't lost her touch.

A largemouth bass, or what Laura once called a "loudmouth bass" when she was little. Iris was very impressed and excited, agreed that the fish was very pretty, but did not want to touch it. We put it back into the lake and watched it swim away.

We decided to take a walk along the lake shore, but before we left the bank I tried a few more casts. Nope. Laura outfished me again.

We wandered down to an overlook and Laura and Iris spent some time throwing rocks into the water.

Iris got crazy with the multiple launch.

But it was finally time to walk up that beautiful green hill and head for home.

I'll have some great fishing trips this season, but I'm sure I don't need to tell you that none of them will top this one.

Jeremiah's Bass: Rite of Passage

As I've pointed out before, my son Jeremiah loves to fish. He's in a bass phase now, and is fortunate to have a friend whose Dad has been in a bass phase for years, and has a big bass boat, and boxes and boxes of lures. Jake took the boys out today, and Jeremiah finally had his big day. Two--count 'em--two five pounders. Nice work, J!

Photo by Jake via mobile phone. Thanks, Jake.

You know what they say: Give a kid a fish, and he'll eat for a day; teach a kid to fish, and he'll catch two bass bigger than the biggest bass you ever caught.

Kids Fishing Post: Bad Bet, Good Bass

Jeremiah and his friend Ian got to talking about fishing the other day and got the fever. So for the first time this season Jeremiah asked me to take them to a bass lake. He has gone out a few times with another friend whose Dad has a big bass boat. Jeremiah likes the roostertail Jake can make when he cranks that big motor up. I can't deny it, Jake has a bigger roostertail than I do. But on this day they wanted to fish a channel where they'd heard there are BIG bass. So off we went.

They each had some money, so we made a quick stop at the local sporting goods store so they could stock up on watermelon this and salted that. In a moment of foolishness I bet them I could catch more bass on a fly than they could with all the stuff they were buying. Loser would pay for their purchases. They had confidence, I'll give them that. I'm pretty sure they ran the bill up fully expecting that I'd be paying it.

No, there's nothing wrong with him. This is just how he looks when I ask him to hold still so I can take his picture.

The lake we went to is the one I've referred to on this blog as "the early season lake." I fish for trout on the opposite end in the spring before the other lakes are open. By this time in the season, this end--and maybe that end, too--is full of bluegill and bass.

They rigged up and hit the channel.

I got first fish, but that wasn't the bet.

They worked the channel over pretty good.

I got most fish, but that wasn't the bet.

Just when I thought I was off the hook, Ian caught a bass. He had a six inch soft plastic thing on his line with a hook big enough to catch sharks! How did that little bass ever get it into his tiny little largemouth? I don't know, but I couldn't argue. That's a bass alright. Take my advice. Never make bets with your kids.

Now that the pressure was off they relaxed and let themselves go.

I kept trying for a bass, but every fish I caught was a bluegill. Did I mention I got most fish?

They finally called it quits--just before I was going to catch a bass, I'm sure--and asked me to take them to the other bass lake where they like to swim. It's right on the way home, so off we went.

They had a great time in the water. It never seems more like summer than when I'm watching them swim in the lake.

Of course I kept fishing, hoping for a bass bigger than Ian's. Not so much to ask. But it was not to be. Still, even though it turned out to be more expensive than I thought it would be, it was a great trip.

POST SCRIPT: The very next day, while I was working, Jeremiah convinced Kim to take them back to the swimming lake. He fished off the dock, right where I had been fishing the evening before, and caught a good bass. He kept it, so I could get an eyefull. "See?" he said. "When are you going to pay me?" He likes to keep to the point. That evening Ian filleted it, more or less, and they had a contest to see which one could fry up the best tasting fillet. I tried both, and I can say for sure that it was indeed a good bass.