Fishing With Face

DATE: 10/19/13
WEATHER: Overcast and spotty rain
TREND: The first real rain started beginning of week, raising the cricks. Water just cleared for the first time.

Friends all over have been reeling in steelhead for a few weeks now. As far as I can tell, they've all been from the Catt. The Catt has been too high and muddy lately (and I prefer the tribs) so we headed out on this beauty of a Fall day to try our luck.

Well, the fish ain't got to us yet. All the tribs were free and clear, with only light signs of fish presence. It was still nice to get out of the house and back on the water, and I even saw pics of a buddy who caught a salmon in the very trib I always hit. Granted, it was well downstream of where I go, but after so many unsuccessful stocking attempts, it's cool to know some natives are still breeding and finding their way in.

Here's some random pics of nothing in particular, just a nice NY Fall afternoon...













The real reason I'm here is not to tell a story, but to ask a question. See, steelhead seasons starts now in the beginning of October when the weather starts to cool. Also right at this very time just hitting its stride is archery season for whitetail. As archery fades, shotgun will pick up, and when shotgun fades, muzzleloader will come to bear. Through them all, I'll be out fishing.

To OG and anyone else that totes a gun for meat: What are your thoughts about fishermen during hunting season? I'm obviously not entirely quiet even when I'm on my own. I'm wearing heavy waders and walking on loose rocks and sloshing back and forth across the crick for hours on end. Bringing Ash adds to that light racket, and bringing Jax brings high pitched shrieks and yelling communication about every single thing he happen to lay his eyes on. I've yet to actually run into a hunter, but I've seen vehicles parked near my spots without seeing any evidence of people on the water, and must assume they're out for mammalian meat.

So what's your opinion? Or if you know others, what's their opinion?

ID:	Total:	Couples:	Fishing Team:
Me	22 (14)	17 (14)	5
Ash	24 (5)	18 (5)	6
Johnny L	4	N/A	4

Heck, slowly start to accumulate everything in either Orange or Red.
Gloves, hat, sweaters, parkas, fishing rods, shoes, ... look like a highway cone.
Its always going to season for something or someone out there who doesn't quite view the calendar correctly anyway.

You may find irate hunters who think your mere presence molests their hunt but most sportsmen admire fellow enthusiasts even if its for a different sport.

Quote: Fleastiff

You may find irate hunters who think your mere presence molests their hunt but most sportsmen admire fellow enthusiasts even if its for a different sport.

I concur with that. I'd say any danger you would be in would come from idiots who shouldnt have a gun. The hunter orange, at least a cap, is advisable.

I can't ever remember being bothered by fishermen; I guess in certain circumstances it might be possible. As mostly a small game hunter, I used to worry that I bothered some of the more dedicated deer hunters. But I have found out that the only way you 'mess them up' is to wander directly into where they are hunting. Otherwise, turns out they actually like to have somebody out there moving the deer around. So your fishing, if away from them, is not ticking anybody off.

Also, deer hunters who know what they are doing never wander too far away from a road, I have found. This due to the need to minimize the difficulty of removing the kill! So you pretty much know where to go to avoid them. I would think choices over where to fish might employ the same thinking.

Quote: Face

archery season for whitetail

You're safer with these guys, but mostly because the chances of running into an idiot are slim to none. Bowhunters are exclusively impressive sportsmen. Smokepole hunters are a better lot too, not quite to the same degree maybe, but also due to the gun being a low-velocity, arched-trajectory weapon. The range is naturally limited, as is the case with archery [obviously].

As far as getting hit with one of these modern arrows, though, geez! The safety doesnt come from the fact it is an arrow! I'd rather take my chances being shot by a rifle. Seriously!

Fishing With Face, a year in review.

Well, it appears the season has come to a close. I’m sure there’s fish to be had, but with hockey in full swing, my attention focused on getting my car built, and the heavy snowfall we just received, I imagine I won’t be on the water again until February.

The year was interesting, as they usually are. Even though I’ve been fishing for years and still hit up the same few spots that I have been hitting since before I was old enough to go into town by myself, every year has its own vibe and peculiarities.

My year started out with a sucker fish, an omen if there ever was one. Between my -1 for the sucker and Ash’s first steelhead for her +1, the story was written as soon as it began.

Ash was certainly the highlight of the year, not only landing the only steelhead, but for landing quality fish almost exclusively. Whereas I was dumpster diving for most of the season, I don’t think she caught more than a couple garbage fish a trip. Her efforts were reflected in the point standings, which I’m sure everyone has followed with bated breath ;)

We trekked through the sludge of the thaw, hiked the canyons of the small streams, and fought the rage of the Mighty Catt. We baked in the sun of the open lake, hid from torrential downpours, and cowered in fear from electrical storms. We sat in minimal clothing with beer in hand without a care in the world, and we stood in several layers of cold weather gear while toting guns ever vigilant for four legged predators. From the small stream a stone’s throw from my driveway all the way to the epic mountains of Wyoming, we fished. From February to December, we fished. From the comfy seats of Captain Jax’s Sparrow to the worn soles of our crickin’ shoes, we fished.

I boated 36 total point fish during contest outings, but the 14 counts of garbage dropped my official count to 22. Sure, there were “unofficial outings”, including the day I went after Ash’s surgery where I caught at least 20 30 45 fish by myself in one day, but in official outings as agreed upon at the onset of the first outing, 22 points is my official total. That’s 36 point fish – 14 garbage fish for a total fish count of 50.

Ash started the year off gangbusters with a beauty of a steelhead and never let up. OG might have teased me that it’s the points that bothered me, and he’s almost right. But he missed the bigger picture; she led in points from the very first trip and held the lead to the end, never giving me even a moment in the sun. Ash boated only 29 point fish, but her quality is what pushed her over the edge. With an entire season only showing her 5 garbage fish, her official points topped mine for the entirety of the season, ending at a very respectable 24. That’s 29 point fish – 5 garbage fish for a total fish count of 34.

And so, with the 23rd inch of snow falling outside my window, the season comes to a close.

Ladies and gentlemen, your Fishing With Face 2013 points champion, Ash “I can survive a brain tumor, brain surgery, and still kick your ass fishing” Lee =)

ID:	Total:	Couples:	Fishing Team:
Me	22 (14)	17 (14)	5
Ash	24 (5)	18 (5)	6
Johnny L	4	N/A	4

Man, that last pic is one fish to be proud of!

Quote:

I can survive a brain tumor, brain surgery, and still kick your ass fishing

Don't feel bad, we all have to bow before that kind of prowess!

Man, 5 months. Poor FWF =(

As suspected, racing is putting a hurtin' on the fishing. Sure, I got out in BVI, but back home has been a struggle. We only got out twice for the steelhead run, and I only snagged one. No points for foul hookups. But I did buy Ash a two man kayak for her b-day, so we've hit the ponds twice.

The first time was off the books. It was mostly me navigating and trying to snatch a snapping turtle (it was HUGE) while she fished. She ended up nabbing quite a few bluegill and pumpkinseed for the garden pond, and even nabbed the first largemouth of the year. But as I wasn't fishing, we called no contest. Later that same week we headed back to the pond to start it. I ended up taking video, but lost it while trying to organize my media. In any case... 1 round in and she's up 6 - 3 ><

But while I have fish in the pond, I decided to test out underwater footage. And having done so, my Erie dreams seem out of reach. In bright, clear conditions, it was still pretty murky. I had to edit quite a bit to get what I got. Perhaps on a really sunny day I may manage something, but this was just 18". I don't have much hope for 30' =/



That last bit (if you watched to the end) is a separate tank containing an experiment gone wrong. Some of the pumpkinseed in the pond are a bit small, and I worried about feeding them. The cold temps have delayed the crayfish spawn, and I haven't been able to find the mini ones I need. But I saw a mass of frog eggs and had an idea - why not hatch em and use the tadpoles as food?

It was a brilliant idea, and quite interesting. First, they were amazingly hard to collect. The mucus they were encased in had to be one of the most slippery substances on Earth, no exaggerating. At the time I got them, they were little more than black dots about the size of the ball in a ball point pen. In two days, they had hatched into motionless little clumps maybe two mm long. A day after that and they were swimming along.

That's right when the flood hit. My pond got filled with mud and I was unable to see inside. I set up my tank, transplanted the fish, and began a clean out. I got a screen to strain the tadpoles, and I had more than I thought with just the first screen. The second produced more. The third more than that. After seven or so screens, I gave up. I have probably more than a thousand of these freaking things, and probably dumped a thousand more!

Whoops lol. So now I have my pond, and since I've been gardening everyday, I've just been feeding them worms. They snatch them right up. I got about 3 craws in there for cleaning detail, and probably a pound of tadpoles I dunno what to do with. I got them set up nice and have managed them long enough I'm confident I can keep most for a spell... but I dunno what they are. They're still too little to tell if they're leopards or bulls or toads. Either way, I'm gonna have a mess on my hands in about a month. WTF am I gonna do with all these frogs?!

Racing continues to put fishing on the back burner, but I had to come here with this...

First, we got out thrice more, once more to the pond and twice to the crick. I actually beat Ash 11-8 at the pond and beat her 1-0 each time to the crick, putting me in the lead for the first time since we started playing this game over a year ago. Hopefully we'll be able to get out for a proper trip and I can do an actual FWF post, but I'm not here for that today. I'm here to tell what happened today.

So my crappie in my pond got ick and I needed to take it back. While there, I was gonna grab some minnows as the largemouth in the pond is a pig and makes it hard to feed the bluegill, and I half thought if I found enough craws I'd keep them and make a point to go fishing soon. The minnows came easy, even in the drastically flood-changed crick. The craws were as vanished as ever and I only caught two. Two, where I usually catch 30 and let go 30 more.

I set about looking in places I normally wouldn't, mostly in deeper water in the current. I found a few giant tadpoles with hind legs just starting to form, so I nabbed them to experiment with raising them. But I wasn't here for baby frogs, I needed some craws.

I moved out as deep as I could without getting my phone wet and started lifting up rocks. It was mostly only big rocks and as a result, I found only mostly big crayfish. I only had a little patch of rocks left. I found one big flat one, wiggled my fingers under (always a worry about getting bit or pinched), and lifted.

It looked weird. The smoky silt wafted into the void and obscured something under the rock. It looked like the shadow of another rock, but at the same time, it didn't. The smokiness began to waft away, the "shadow" became visible, and I broke out in head to toe goosebumps. My blood, on this 80* day, went ice cold and I froze dead.

It was a freaking lamprey. A buddy of mine just caught one in the Catt earlier in the week, probably over 2' long. This one was in the tribs, not quite 2' but still full grown. And I, who jumps into the swamp after just about anything that crawls or wiggles, got full on creeped out.

I called Jax and Ash over to have them look. And in the time it took them to walk over, my brain switched gears. I had to catch it.

I only had a few cups that I was using for crays, but I managed to trap it with my minnow trap. It got away but beached itself in its haste and I trapped it good. I tried to pick it up and it got away again, hauling freight across the crick where it beached itself again. I bounded after it, trapping it once more before flinging it on shore.



Notice its gills, which are little more than portholes along the side of its head behind its dull, grey eye.

My mind started racing between extremes. I couldn't help but have have a feeling of loathing course through my body. But I also couldn't help but notice the elegance of it. The colors, the design, the old, ancient eyes. And then, like a flash, omg it's so #$^%ing gross. It looked lazy and dumb one minute, agile and sharp the next. It looked like a perfectly designed predator here, then something out of Satan's nightmares there. But I had to decide. Kill this vile, disgusting creature in the name of preservation, or let be what will be.

It was close. I don't kill things without using them. But killing it barely edged out. I asked Ash and she said let it live. 1-1, tie breaker goes to Jax.

I asked the little Emperor to impose his judgement, and the thumbs down had it. I took a moment to explain to him why we were killing it and discuss the details of life and death before grabbing a 15lb boulder and braining it on the shore.

It was then I got a look at the mouth and I was revolted all over again. The lips hung in limp flaps, read to suck on to any living thing that came its way. And the mouth was full of row after row of yellow, pointed, curved, serrated teeth. Just imaging them writhing about as the mouth flexed and relaxed, knifing and grinding a hole into the unfortunate being that happened to come its way, as the lamprey sucked the life juice from within. Man... that's just messed up.



Stingray, pufferfish... ain't nothing I've caught that's been weirder or more a shock than this.

Sweet dreams! =D

ID:	Total:	Couples:	Fishing Team:
Me	16	16	N/A
Ash	11	11	N/A
Johnny L	N/A	N/A	N/A

Fishing just ain't working this year.

Yes, racing has decimated it pretty good. But I still have to get out, and we have. Maybe not as much (certainly not as much), but we have been out. Trips to the crick bring in 2 or 3 instead of double digits. We even got out to the lake and didn't hardly catch a thing. Two dozen craws and I brought in one goby. That's it. Ash and I each only hooked one smallie each in 3 hours and we both lost it when the zebra mussels frayed and snapped our line.

As a weird sort of consolation, I have been catching a number of other unorthodox things. A few weeks ago it was a lamprey. Last week a trip with Jax had us seeing a number of water snakes, all of them quite large. Eventually we happened upon this one.



This guy caught a catfish and was bound and determined to have it. Upon seeing me walk up on it, it headed for the water. Well, fish aren't very hydrodynamic in reverse, so the snake couldn't swim. I mean, it swam, but it swam in place. A little of that and it head back to land to rest. A few breaths and it took off again, again just swimming in place. It eventually decided to just stay on land and try to get this thing down. I don't know if he was ever successful, but almost 90 minutes later he was still trying to get his mouth around and passed those damnable pectoral spines. I half wanted to reach in and clip them for them, but I suspected he'd drop it and bail if I tried. I figured to leave it to chance.

Last week we headed to the little crick for minnows to feed my fish. I found this tank soaking in one of the shallow pools.





I got big hands, 10" from pinky to thumb. My fingers weren't even touching when I wrapped around his tail. This thing was one of the bigger ones I've seen. And heavy. And strong. Once I got him out of the water he wanted to turn around and give me what for, and I couldn't even stop him. I bet if I sat on him he still would've been able to drag us both back into the water.

ID:	Total:	Couples:	Fishing Team:
Me	15 (1)	15 (1)	N/A
Ash	11	11	N/A
Johnny L	N/A	N/A	N/A

Quote:

if I sat on him he still would've been able to drag us both back into the water

big turtle alright. Keep the stuff coming, Face, I don't always think to comment, but we're reading.

Still not much fishing. We've been camping all week and only got out once. Hooked a few sunnies and a few teeny largemouth for the kids, but not much to write home about. The other catches this week deserved a shout, though.

First was the snake. It wasn't nothing, really, as far as snakes are concerned. But it's the first one I managed to get my hands on. Was trying for this one all week but the weather just would not cooperate. Then, at the last minute, boom. And I had him, just moments before we had to leave.



Weren't much, but was quite large for a garter snake. Probably over 20", so worth catching.

The real reason for posting is because I smashed a record I thought would never be beaten. I posted long ago about the largest crayfish I've ever caught, and that one I thought was once in a lifetime. Here a reminder on the size...



I ain't never seen one that size, didn't know they even got that big, and never thought I'd see another again. Well, today I went kayaking, and after dropping off my little cousin, went off by myself. I went out of the lake into the swampy bits and saw some turtles and snakes I couldn't get a hold of. Not having had my fill, I left the swamp and headed up one of the cold water feeder creeks. I saw some small largemouth and a few native trout, which kept me going and going looking for more. It was just me and a thousand Canada geese which, while it put murder into my mind (I hate those things), was so far out that I kept going, looking for more. I eventually rounded a corner, looked down to spot more trout, and I saw it.

As soon as I glimpsed it I knew what it was, and I could not believe what I was looking at. Didn't have to lift no rock, didn't have to root around under no bridge piling, it was just there, crawling along the bottom heading downstream. It was odd to see one out and about, but thinking back, I have no idea where it would hide if it wanted to. Hell, this thing didn't have reason to hide. If it fancied a goose, I bet it could have one. I'm serious!

I was out unprepared. I had no cups to catch it (didn't have a cup that big anyways), no bucket to hold it. All I had was smokes, a lighter, and my paddle. Well, I spun around on it and was out of that kayak in a flash. That crick is drinking water cold, but you don't pass up records when they're right there. I wondered for a moment if it'd have my finger off if I messed up, but had to make a go for it anyways. And you know, this thing had such impressive armament and was so bloody big it couldn't even really swim anyways. Probably not used to having to swim, as probably nothing had a go at it in some years. So with a little effort, I had him snatched up and stowed in my kayak compartment, headed back to camp.

The kids screamed. Some of the parents, too. And part of me died a little inside. I love catching these things, I love trying to break records. But I have no idea how in the world I'm ever gonna touch this record again. Zoo, aquarium, museum, I ain't never seen anything close. I think I just caught the biggest crayfish I will ever see in my life.