Fishing With Face
|October 27th, 2018 at 1:07:40 AM permalink|
Member since: Aug 3, 2014
Everyone gets thrown from the plane to maintain altitude
|November 4th, 2018 at 10:05:48 AM permalink|
Member since: Oct 24, 2012
They truly baffle me. My old motor was tiny; once out of the housing, it was smaller than the motor in my mower. Yet the mower was like 8hp and the outboard put out 50. Hell, those big ol' 250's are small enough to wrap my arms around. How they get 250 out of that? Ain't no part of any of it that I understand.
@petro, I'm thinking it's RWC. I don't see any heat exchanger, unless it lives inside the lower unit, which I don't understand how it could. That probably also explains the massive rusting inside the intake (you can measure the depth of the scale rust in millimeters ><) Don't have to worry about salt, but it is good to know. I typically spend spring with the prop barely in water as I push into <2' waters churning up sludge pursuing the spawn. Guess I better get a troller for that particular job lol
But we'll worry about all that in a couple months. I might dink around with this old motor if I get enough off it to carry inside, but I've gone far enough that I'm passed knowing what to do next, and I still haven't found any damage. Looks like it's new motor time, and I guess I'll keep this one as a training tool and spare part holder until I get another scrap load. Until then, it's all crick walking until the water gets hard.
And that's what we're doing. We headed up north to the Ontario tribs, going to my childhood haunt in Olcott. It sure has changed over the years. The stream is much more "developed" with hard pack trails, huge rip rap walls and even a valet of sorts with a diesel Gator ferrying old timers up and down the hill between the crick and the lot. Back when me and Pops were hitting this place, we had to scale down the side of the dam and the "trail", as it were, was just a simple wear path. Quite the difference. But the water is just about exactly the same. All manner of salmonids were piled high as you want, jumping, thrashing, and fighting amongst each other on their way to the pool. It just about completely ruined my vid as my head was non stop swiveling, taking in all there was to see.
It's not the most serene of places, being so developed and jammed full of people. And as far as angling goes, it's just about a complete waste. There's not much of the dance of proper presentation, good hunting skills, all the stuff that makes fishing so great. No. Here you pretty much just trying to drift it in their face and gain purchase. "Strikes" are more an accident at best, designed trickery at worst. Get it close and hope to snag it somewhere in the face. Repeat until exhausted.
The vibe seemed to have change as well, though that could be down to nothing more than luck of the day. I recall verbal altercations being pretty much ever present, what with such a huge amount of traffic. And physical altercations, usually a tug of war when two guys tangled their gear but sometimes up to pushing / wrestling, happened enough that I expect it when going here. Now, everyone seemed just about as eager to spar, but with a much friendlier tone. A lot of "good natured s#$% talking" in other words. Friendly teasings, goading, jiving, it did make it fun, and was nice to give my kid a taste of "man life".
We got there just in time for twilight, having left home at 0400. The small, 2,000' stretch already had 50+ people on it, but there was still plenty of real estate from which to choose and my favorite spot didn't have anyone on it for tens of feet in either direction. I staged up here immediately while the boy, as is tradition, immediately fell in over his waders, filling them and soaking him to the bone. Yes, I was standing right there. No, I did not help him. This is how we learn =)
We ended up running into my... ex-nephew?...and the boy's cousin, and he had in tow a dude I hadn't seen in nearly ten years. While we chatted, the boy f#$%ed off down to the railroad bridge some 200' away on the other side of the water and nearly out of view. I was breaking at this point, trying to get warm and giving my two torn shoulders a rest as I was already just about done in after just 45min. While wading through ten years of history, the boy hooked up into his first one, all by himself. Still in morning grog and beginning to catch a buzz, I sort of just watched gleefully for a full minute before realizing, duh, I had to do something lol. I began the slog across the water when I saw him almost fall - the line had snapped. I saw him freeze, then spin and start humping towards me, eyes afire and big cheese all over his face. He marched right to me, thrust his rod tip at me, and never broke gaze from the water. It was the first time that's ever happened. Not only immediately doing what needed to be done (bringing the pole to me and holding it in a manner that allowed me to fix it), but turning his back to me. Priority wasn't dad's thoughts, priority was getting the fish. It was independence, and bittersweet.
Line retied, he f#$%ed off back to the bridge and I went back to catching up and getting that buzz. Wasn't 10min before he hooked back up again. I was pleased as punch seeing him immediately do what I had instructed (walk it back, don't chase into water) and I was content to just watch. Little s#$% never even looked up. Eyes locked, guiding it out around rocks, steering when he could, letting it run when it ran, I did not see one single thing in which to critique. I was content to watch the whole play, see how far he took it, but a friendly neighbor wound up heading toward him with a net. My fun over, I slogged back over for the pic.
The boy's first king. Was a bit small for that area, but was in good health for a zombie. The boy watched as the friendly neighbor revived it for release, alive and full of eggs, and then he marched right back to his spot on the bridge. My buzz engaged, I hunkered back up in my spot and started swingin'.
The day wound up to be quite enjoyable. Everyone surrounding us were very engaging and loud, full of ribbing when their friends hooked up, full of cheering when my boy did (and he did several times). The boy brought one more fully to shore, a monster male king that I couldn't manage bare handed. This one he did chase as he almost had to, and he got deep and fell again (lol), but he did end up finally horsing it to shore. No pics because of the size and my lack of net, but I did get it on video just before the GoPro died.
In all, my quasi-group of 5 landed some 16 kings and 2 or 3 big browns. The boy hooked 4 and brought in 2, much to his still-present delight. Me? Not a goddamn thing lol. I'm not content to drag flies over backs, so 3 out of the 4 that foul hooked themselves I managed to plink off without incident. Only one hooked its dorsal spine, and I just couldn't get it out. I flipped and pooped it for at least 5 min, content to take my time as no one was really around me. I could guide it close without fighting, but I couldn't pop it off with a fly rod like I can with my Ugly Sticks. The only reason I tell this story is because I wasn't trying to fight it, and so was holding my fly line like an a$$hole. So, when it finally figured out I had it and ran, it buzzed line around my finger so fast it steamed, and here 10 days later, I still have a shiny line in my finger where the line burned into it. I suppose that's a permanent reminder =)
Phase one of winter accomplished. And now that it's rained for 5+ days straight, hopefully we can have some similar action back home. Fingers crossed!
Be bold and risk defeat, or be cautious and encourage it.
|November 4th, 2018 at 11:54:08 AM permalink|
Member since: Aug 3, 2014
Not only do outboards have superior weight to horsepower ratios, the hp on an outboard is measured at the propeller, whereas the hp on an inboard is measured at the flywheel. Every time you bend horsepower you lose some.
Very nice share of fishing.
Everyone gets thrown from the plane to maintain altitude
|November 5th, 2018 at 11:51:55 AM permalink|
Member since: Oct 28, 2012
that kid is some kind of fisherman!
Mustard:You like Kipling, Miss Scarlet? Sure, I'll eat anything [from movie]