Tweet
2017 has not been good to me from a fishing perspective. At least it feels that way to me. This year, I have been on a quest to find bigger and stronger fish to scratch the itch for screaming drag. I have chased Red and Black Drum in Florida - unsuccessfully. I’ve cast to gator Bluefish in DE (OK, I did pretty well there), traveled to NY and RI in search of big bass and made numerous trips throughout the upper bay, but a few nice fish aside, the number of skunks recorded in my fishing log is astonishing.
Today was a bit of an epiphany to me. As the spring Rockfish migration works it’s way north, I’ve lamented my lack of consistent success and chalked it up to a multitude of factors, not the least of which being my own inexperience. What I came to remember is that I need to keep reminding myself that I am relatively new to the game and I shouldn’t compare myself to others when judging success. I just need to put in the time, pay attention and be better than I was last year. Every trip, even the stinky ones, is a learning opportunity that will pay dividends down river.
Up to this point in ‘17, I haven’t targeted White Perch because there was no potential for a blistering run, no rush from the sweet serenade of line peeling off the reel and no “challenge” in catching them.
Yesterday, I snuck out of work early with the intent to fish. I made a mental checklist, based on wind, weather and tide, of my options for chasing Rockfish. I had the energy, but lacked the psychological fortitude needed. The thought of another skunk disheartened me. In short, I was lazy. Still, going home and watching TV wasn’t what I had used brownie points to sneak out of work for.
Accepting this, I “settled” to fish within several hundred yards of my house and target perch. I remembered them fondly from last year as saving more than one trip from that awful skunky stink, so I dusted off my ultralight rods and rooted around for my tiny perch rigs.
As I pushed away from the launch, I knew that I had made the right decision. I forgot my “need” to do battle with big fish and remembered why I love fishing in the first place - to be outside, embracing nature and trying to use my tiny brain to match wits with our pescetarian cousins. In short, leaving the rest of my life on shore while my ass is in my kayak.
The tide was 2 hours from flood, winds were light and the water temp was 70 degrees. All the environmental factors for a successful trip were in place so I started pitching a 1/16 oz jig head with a 2” twister tail. It didn’t take long to hook into my first perch. At 7”, it still had the ability to thrill me on the UL gear. I completely forgot any lingering angst about screaming drag and settled in to catch more.
After a couple of dozen perch landed (mostly small), I considered heading to shore to enjoy dinner with my wife. I opted, rather, to text her and propose she get a pizza that we could share, picnic style, on the beach.
After enjoying some of Vizziny’s finest, the urge to keep fishing pulled me back to the water. Dusk was started to settle in and I was eager to take advantage of the high tide and corpuscular feeding activity. I pointed the bow towards my favorite dock for these conditions. It has a light that hits the water perfectly and attracts bait from the surrounding area.
The marks on my Lowrance were a bit confusing. I was seeing a lot of activity but not the traditional displays of fish on my screen. It didn’t take long, however, to convince me that I was above an active school of perch that shared the same affinity for the lit dock. I started catching fish on almost every cast. On more than one occasion, the depth sounding went from 5’-6’ to 2’-3’ as the number of fish below me created a false read.
At one point I stipulated that I didn’t even need the plastic on the hook and chuckled to myself that I could probably catch them on just the jighead. I opted to try it and proceeded to throw the tiny jig into the mix and hooked up with the same frequency as when it was fully rigged.
Finally, as the hour approached 10, my wife texted me and reminded me as to the time. What was supposed to have been a quick 2 hour jaunt turned into a 6 hour marathon. I had fallen into a rhythm of cast and connect and she served as a reality check. I left them biting and headed for shore.
At the end of the day, I was quite content. I have no way of knowing what my actual catch was, but it was far north of 50. Most were in the 8’ - 9” range but there were a couple up to 11”. I even had some micro bass in the mix.
The lesson for me was that rather than my needing to chase bigger and stronger fish all the time, I can be very happy fishing seasonally with the species that are present and abundant. I just need to shake off the primordial quest for battle long enough to remember it.
Today was a bit of an epiphany to me. As the spring Rockfish migration works it’s way north, I’ve lamented my lack of consistent success and chalked it up to a multitude of factors, not the least of which being my own inexperience. What I came to remember is that I need to keep reminding myself that I am relatively new to the game and I shouldn’t compare myself to others when judging success. I just need to put in the time, pay attention and be better than I was last year. Every trip, even the stinky ones, is a learning opportunity that will pay dividends down river.
Up to this point in ‘17, I haven’t targeted White Perch because there was no potential for a blistering run, no rush from the sweet serenade of line peeling off the reel and no “challenge” in catching them.
Yesterday, I snuck out of work early with the intent to fish. I made a mental checklist, based on wind, weather and tide, of my options for chasing Rockfish. I had the energy, but lacked the psychological fortitude needed. The thought of another skunk disheartened me. In short, I was lazy. Still, going home and watching TV wasn’t what I had used brownie points to sneak out of work for.
Accepting this, I “settled” to fish within several hundred yards of my house and target perch. I remembered them fondly from last year as saving more than one trip from that awful skunky stink, so I dusted off my ultralight rods and rooted around for my tiny perch rigs.
As I pushed away from the launch, I knew that I had made the right decision. I forgot my “need” to do battle with big fish and remembered why I love fishing in the first place - to be outside, embracing nature and trying to use my tiny brain to match wits with our pescetarian cousins. In short, leaving the rest of my life on shore while my ass is in my kayak.
The tide was 2 hours from flood, winds were light and the water temp was 70 degrees. All the environmental factors for a successful trip were in place so I started pitching a 1/16 oz jig head with a 2” twister tail. It didn’t take long to hook into my first perch. At 7”, it still had the ability to thrill me on the UL gear. I completely forgot any lingering angst about screaming drag and settled in to catch more.
After a couple of dozen perch landed (mostly small), I considered heading to shore to enjoy dinner with my wife. I opted, rather, to text her and propose she get a pizza that we could share, picnic style, on the beach.
After enjoying some of Vizziny’s finest, the urge to keep fishing pulled me back to the water. Dusk was started to settle in and I was eager to take advantage of the high tide and corpuscular feeding activity. I pointed the bow towards my favorite dock for these conditions. It has a light that hits the water perfectly and attracts bait from the surrounding area.
The marks on my Lowrance were a bit confusing. I was seeing a lot of activity but not the traditional displays of fish on my screen. It didn’t take long, however, to convince me that I was above an active school of perch that shared the same affinity for the lit dock. I started catching fish on almost every cast. On more than one occasion, the depth sounding went from 5’-6’ to 2’-3’ as the number of fish below me created a false read.
At one point I stipulated that I didn’t even need the plastic on the hook and chuckled to myself that I could probably catch them on just the jighead. I opted to try it and proceeded to throw the tiny jig into the mix and hooked up with the same frequency as when it was fully rigged.
Finally, as the hour approached 10, my wife texted me and reminded me as to the time. What was supposed to have been a quick 2 hour jaunt turned into a 6 hour marathon. I had fallen into a rhythm of cast and connect and she served as a reality check. I left them biting and headed for shore.
At the end of the day, I was quite content. I have no way of knowing what my actual catch was, but it was far north of 50. Most were in the 8’ - 9” range but there were a couple up to 11”. I even had some micro bass in the mix.
The lesson for me was that rather than my needing to chase bigger and stronger fish all the time, I can be very happy fishing seasonally with the species that are present and abundant. I just need to shake off the primordial quest for battle long enough to remember it.
Comment