My New Backyard

  I woke up before the sun this morning with nothing more planned than to suck back a pot of coffee and catch up on what my blogger friends had been up to lately. After several hours of interesting reading, I found that all too familiar itch that needed a good scratching... the need to find some fishy water in my new backyard.

  A quick search on Google Earth showed me several promising areas to explore. Just a few blocks to the west is a small creek with a channeled river bed, but just a mile downstream it opens up into a wild urban ravine whose pools and runs could possibly hold some bass or panfish, and for future consideration...salmon and steelhead! Under two miles away to the northeast I found a series of small flood control ponds that looked promising from 300 miles in space but require a more up close and personal scrutiny, and of course there's the Rouge River 5 miles east with it's healthy population of bass, pike, brook trout in the north end of the city and carp liberally scattered throughout.

  With a pot of coffee under my belt, my bike loaded up with gear and a planned route for local exploration, I set off just before 9am in 90degee temperatures towards the ponds in the northeast. After a few wrong turns and having to backtrack, (I didn't print out a map of the area) I'd arrived at my destination in less than 15 minutes without realizing it! One thing a satellite image doesn't show you is tall grass obscuring the lower lying areas, and this was the case at hand. Let me tell you... breaking trail with a mountain bike loaded down with fishing gear through several hundred yards of chest high scrub isn't getting any easier on me but the potential payoff was worth it. As I broke through the brush at the waters edge it became clear that these bodies of water are rarely fished because of their visibility and difficult access. The only place to set up was on a narrow rocky saddle separating two adjacent ponds, and as I approached I could see a large school of good sized carp frolicking in the shallows.

south pond

north pond

  I immediately assembled my fly rod, tied on a coachman and on the second cast retrieved a palm sized bluegill. As I released the sunfish a nearby voice asked me if there were any fish in that "ditch". Unknown to me a resident had been curiously observing my actions from a balcony overlooking the water without ever putting together the pieces of the puzzle (like all the 10lb carp splashing about!). It's always been amazing to me how many people are unaware of the opportunities in their own back yards. I patiently explained to him what I'd already figured out about his backyard, what I believed could be there, and how to go about catching them. Minutes after our conversation my line quickly straightened out, pulled like a freight train for 3 seconds, and then came limply flying back towards my head so that I had to duck in order to avoid impalement.

CARP-1...JOHN-0 

  The brief commotion had scattered the remainder of the school so sight casting was no longer an option. In no time at all I'd exhausted all my known patterns for carp with not so much as a bump to show for it, so... rather than tying on ridiculous choices and getting frustrated, I decided drastic measures were in store if I was to even the score. BAIT. There...I said it. Just don't tell Tackle Shop, he'd never let me live it down.

  Jolly Green Giant to the rescue! Four nibblets of corn on a #8 trout hook a foot below a quarter oz sliding egg weight, cast into an area heavily chummed with handfuls of corn, sit back and wait. Honestly...this is not my preferred method of fishing, I'd rather be fluff chucking or heaving heavy metal on the run. Perhaps 20 years down the road when I'm back in diapers a can of worms or corn will be a constant companion, but for now I resist the obvious benefits of bait in all but the most difficult of situations. Anyways...an hour later, several repositionings, and a serious case of distraction was all that was needed for my rod to suddenly make a break for the waters edge. I'd like to say my lightning quick reflexes saved the day but the truth is that the reel hung up on a rock allowing me to keep my equipment AND even the score!

20" "Golden Boy"

  CARP-1...JOHN-1

  Knowing what the previous fight had done to the bite, I decided to call it a day rather than wait another hour for some action. All things considered I'm fairly pleased with the day, I'd gotten into some decent fish and found a nearby fix for my addiction. On my return ride home I came across this beautiful little gem, but it will have to wait until my inevitable return.

Trent River

  OK... so I've gotten my act together.. somewhat. There's a new fridge in my kitchen stocked with all kinds of good stuff for the BBQ, a brand new cell phone to finally bring me into the new millennium, and most importantly... internet access. So I'm blogging again.

  On July 3, several hours after my last post, Tackle Shop roused me from a sound sleep by pounding on my apartment window at 4:30am. All I knew the day before was our destination, Trenton, so it was a complete surprise to see the Russian in the van and a stop along the way to pick up another long lost friend...Treefrog. So at the crack of dawn I found myself surrounded by three characters en route to one of my favorite fishing holes.

  What makes Trenton so special is the fact that it's the first of 45 locks on the Trent Severn Waterway which connects Lake Ontario in the south to Georgian Bay, 250 miles to the northwest on Lake Huron. In the first ten miles north of the Bay of Quinte there are five locks and dams where at any time there is the chance of catching any species that swims in the Great Lakes, all easily accessible and wadeable for the adventurous angler.

    Our collective anticipation was like a living thing pushing us toward an unknown goal, ever increasing as the distance to our destination dwindled until we parked the van and scrambled down to the river in search of a prime location to land a dream. Tackle Shop and Treefrog immediately rigged up and took position on the near wing of the dam, amazed at the large schools of giant carp playing follow the leader in and out of the current, while the Russian and I started pitching heavy metal, wading near the tailout of the plunge pool several hundred yards downstream. This was only the second time this year that I'd started the day out with the spinning gear and I was quickly rewarded for that decision with a strike that nearly ripped the rod from my hands. After almost a minute of questioning myself what I'd hooked into, a "nearly subdued" 20"+ smallmouth swam between my legs and impaled the treble hook into my calf, thus securing his freedom and supplying me with a painful fish tale.

He was grinning ear to ear right up to when I snapped this pic 

  
  Next in line for a surprise was the Russian. He'd been cycling through his tackle until a #5 Mepps struck gold. Close to five minutes were spent "winching" in line, only to have the river monster take it back again, until finally what looked like an ancient piece of driftwood in the depths coalesced into a trophy sized musky right at our feet! Too bad we don't use wire leaders as I'm sure the Russian would have loved to have had a  picture of the beast and kept his Mepps at the same time!

  By this time TS and Treefrog had quit the dam for quieter waters and joined us to fish a back eddy. I'd switched to my fly rod hoping for a large predator, but kept myself amused with the occasional small bass and rockbass. Several times over the next few hours we'd witnessed monstrous fish jump and roll right before us, but unfortunately we'd had our chances earlier in the day and there were few decent takes by noon. A few hours before we packed up the Russian pointed out what must have been a sturgeon "breaching" in the center of the pool

TS & the Russian...an angling cold war

    After noon it was time for a change of scenery so we traveled a few miles upstream to lock #5 in Frankford. As we'd done earlier, TS and Treefrog zigged right and the Russian and I zagged left. After several hours we'd determined the main pool was devoid of life (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!) so the others satisfied themselves with fishing over the high water edge of the dam while I explored the many tailouts with an olive woolly bugger. I finally found where the fish were hiding and after twenty 8 to 14 inch smallmouth I was informed that we were leaving for home.

Frankford lock tailout

  I realize that I didn't take too many pictures this time, but I never noticed that Treefrog was missing in all of them until we were back home. So... it wouldn't feel right without exposing showing a picture of him from exactly 2 years ago near lock #45, Port Severn.

anyone know what this bug is?