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Snakehead success @ Leesylvania, 6/16
The past few weeks have been depressing and stressful. We had to put my wife’s horse down, we had to take one of our cats to the emergency vet in the middle of the night the day after that (she’s OK), and there’s been lots of work-related and job-hunting frustration. The two fishing trips I had during that time were both unproductive before being thwarted by the weather, which only worsened my mood. 
On the upside, I got to visit with my folks this weekend, which is always good for morale. Dad and I planned to hit Leesylvania to try for big bass and snakeheads. I purposely left my net at home, Dad forgot the fish grip I got him for Father’s Day, and we forgot to get ice on the way to park. We were totally unprepared to deal with snakeheads, which was perfect.
We hit the water at 4pm to fish around high tide, and it was breezier than we expected (of course). I didn’t really have a plan of attack, so we just started working our way upstream since the tide was coming in. I was rigged up with a chartreuse and white chatterbait, a Rage Tail toad, a baby bass fluke, and a wildcard rod. Dad had a Texas-rigged electric blue worm on one rod and left his other rod unrigged.
We worked the edges of the spatterdock without much luck. Dad’s worm was fouling too much in all the weeds, so he switched to the fluke, which was similarly unproductive. I saw a shady patch under a tree and cast the frog close to shore. BOOM! A really nice bass slammed the lure as soon as it hit the water and started fighting like crazy. I finally got it too the boat and almost had my thumb on its lip when the hook pulled free. It looked to be in the 16-18” range. Despite being disappointed about not getting it into the boat, the trip was already a success in my mind. After seeing how the frog acted in the water, Dad tied on a black Jitterbug on his other rod (Grandpa’s evening lure of choice).
We started working other shady areas, and Dad picked up a nice bass on the Jitterbug:
I put a Jitterbug on my wildcard rod after that. We didn’t have any other luck in that area and kept moving upstream. I saw a break in the spatterdock that led back to a shady area with lots of woody debris and spotted a big snakehead sitting in the middle of the opening. I threw everything I had rigged at that area but only managed a chunky 14” bass that jumped out of the boat before I could get a pic. It hit the Rage Tail frog.
We started working a bigger clearing in the spatterdock, and I caught a nice bass on the chatterbait:
I prefer this pic because the fish looks bigger
:
Now that both Dad and I had nice fish in the boat with photographic evidence, all was right with the world. I cast my frog into a different part of the clearing and had another solid strike. I got a good hookset this time, and the fish launched straight of the water. No head-shakes, no tail-dancing, and clearly brown—it was a snakehead! I didn’t know snakeheads jumped like that.
The fish hit the water, turned, and came unbuttoned. That was closest I had gotten to landing a snakehead, and I was stoked.
I continued working that area while Dad headed upstream. A few minutes later, I hear Dad quietly calling my name, which I thought was weird (we’re usually much louder when we catch fish), and he said that I better come over there. I see him holding is rod up in a weird way and asked if he had a fish. He said (still quietly), “Yeah, and I think it’s a snakehead.” I raced over there. It had apparently missed the lure but still managed to get hooked under the chin. It hadn’t fought much at all, and he was afraid of setting it off.
It was around 24". We didn’t have a net, and there was no way I was getting a lipper in its mouth with the way the hooks were. I had an old fish gripper that we used for catfish when I was a kid that I thought would be good for slippery snakeheads. Dad held the fish up, and I got the gripper on it. Strangely enough, I got the gripper perfectly placed between the pectoral fins and the dorsal fin and was squeezing it hard so I thought there was no way it could squirm out of there. The snakehead still hadn’t moved at this point. The hooks came out as soon as I set the snakehead down in my yak, then all h3ll broke loose. The snakehead shot out of the grippers like a rocket, flew into Dad’s boat, and ricocheted around his legs for a while before coming to rest on the front hatch of Dad’s yak. All three of us stared at each other for a second, and then the snakehead came to and slithered into the water as Dad jumped to reach for it. I would’ve loved to have had a video of all that because it was hilarious. It left a bunch of scales behind in my yak and on the grippers, but they are just slippery fish.
I cast the frog along the edge of the spatter dock again, and had another hit. I set the hook, and another snakehead launched out of the water like a Polaris missile. This one was huge, and it jumped at least two feet out of the water. That one got off the hook when it hit the water again, too. I guess my Carrot Stix doesn’t have enough muscle to drive the hook home at those distances. After that, it occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t cast as far as I had been casting. I was operating on the saltwater principle of keeping the lure in (on) the water for as long as possible. I was disappointed at not landing the bastard because I probably would’ve been the biggest fish I’ve ever caught, which isn’t saying much, but it was really cool seeing it jump so high out of the water. 
Again, I wish I had that on video, too. Meanwhile, Dad missed a few blow-ups, too.
It was getting late, so I went back to the clearing where I hooked the nice bass and the snakehead. I had two more blow-ups that didn’t connect. One was a torpedo that threw a big wake as it headed toward my lure. It scared the crap out of me because it happened right by the boat, so I jerked the frog away before it connected. The second was another torpedo that charged at the frog from a distance. I kept my cool this time, but the fish blew up right behind the lure. Must’ve been near-sighted.
With time running out, I tied on the trusty Rebel Pop-r that I found on the Occoquan. On the second cast, I landed this guy:
What’s even more surprising is that I’m smiling in that pic.
Of course, the real battle began once I put it in my yak. It started freaking out, and its jaw eventually broke in the middle, which made the grippers much less effective. It kept breaking free and ricocheting around in my yak, but I kept managing to get my leg over it before it got into the water. After about 15 minutes, I managed to rip out a couple gill arches and get it into my cooler bag with Dad’s assistance, and we called it a night. Victory!!! By this point, everything within arm’s reach was covered with blood, gill bits, and slime. Everyone in 7-11 gave me a wide berth when I went in to buy ice.
It was an awesome Father’s Day adventure. I don’t think Dad is as enamored about catching snakeheads as I am, but he really enjoyed catching nice fish and all the other antics. It was very reminiscent of the spastic fishing-catching/clubbing shenanigans we got into when I was a kid. The snakeheads at Leesylvania behave much differently than the ones in the Mattawoman based on my limited experience. The ones I’ve had hit at the Mattawoman exploded and thrashed on the lure like someone was shooting a machine gun in the water. The ones that hit at Leesylvania gave the lure a good pop but like a medium sized bass, then they started launching out of the water like breaching whales. Pretty cool. I can't wait to come back and try again.
On the upside, I got to visit with my folks this weekend, which is always good for morale. Dad and I planned to hit Leesylvania to try for big bass and snakeheads. I purposely left my net at home, Dad forgot the fish grip I got him for Father’s Day, and we forgot to get ice on the way to park. We were totally unprepared to deal with snakeheads, which was perfect.
We hit the water at 4pm to fish around high tide, and it was breezier than we expected (of course). I didn’t really have a plan of attack, so we just started working our way upstream since the tide was coming in. I was rigged up with a chartreuse and white chatterbait, a Rage Tail toad, a baby bass fluke, and a wildcard rod. Dad had a Texas-rigged electric blue worm on one rod and left his other rod unrigged.
We worked the edges of the spatterdock without much luck. Dad’s worm was fouling too much in all the weeds, so he switched to the fluke, which was similarly unproductive. I saw a shady patch under a tree and cast the frog close to shore. BOOM! A really nice bass slammed the lure as soon as it hit the water and started fighting like crazy. I finally got it too the boat and almost had my thumb on its lip when the hook pulled free. It looked to be in the 16-18” range. Despite being disappointed about not getting it into the boat, the trip was already a success in my mind. After seeing how the frog acted in the water, Dad tied on a black Jitterbug on his other rod (Grandpa’s evening lure of choice).
We started working other shady areas, and Dad picked up a nice bass on the Jitterbug:
I put a Jitterbug on my wildcard rod after that. We didn’t have any other luck in that area and kept moving upstream. I saw a break in the spatterdock that led back to a shady area with lots of woody debris and spotted a big snakehead sitting in the middle of the opening. I threw everything I had rigged at that area but only managed a chunky 14” bass that jumped out of the boat before I could get a pic. It hit the Rage Tail frog.
We started working a bigger clearing in the spatterdock, and I caught a nice bass on the chatterbait:
I prefer this pic because the fish looks bigger
:Now that both Dad and I had nice fish in the boat with photographic evidence, all was right with the world. I cast my frog into a different part of the clearing and had another solid strike. I got a good hookset this time, and the fish launched straight of the water. No head-shakes, no tail-dancing, and clearly brown—it was a snakehead! I didn’t know snakeheads jumped like that.
The fish hit the water, turned, and came unbuttoned. That was closest I had gotten to landing a snakehead, and I was stoked.I continued working that area while Dad headed upstream. A few minutes later, I hear Dad quietly calling my name, which I thought was weird (we’re usually much louder when we catch fish), and he said that I better come over there. I see him holding is rod up in a weird way and asked if he had a fish. He said (still quietly), “Yeah, and I think it’s a snakehead.” I raced over there. It had apparently missed the lure but still managed to get hooked under the chin. It hadn’t fought much at all, and he was afraid of setting it off.
It was around 24". We didn’t have a net, and there was no way I was getting a lipper in its mouth with the way the hooks were. I had an old fish gripper that we used for catfish when I was a kid that I thought would be good for slippery snakeheads. Dad held the fish up, and I got the gripper on it. Strangely enough, I got the gripper perfectly placed between the pectoral fins and the dorsal fin and was squeezing it hard so I thought there was no way it could squirm out of there. The snakehead still hadn’t moved at this point. The hooks came out as soon as I set the snakehead down in my yak, then all h3ll broke loose. The snakehead shot out of the grippers like a rocket, flew into Dad’s boat, and ricocheted around his legs for a while before coming to rest on the front hatch of Dad’s yak.
All three of us stared at each other for a second, and then the snakehead came to and slithered into the water as Dad jumped to reach for it. I would’ve loved to have had a video of all that because it was hilarious. It left a bunch of scales behind in my yak and on the grippers, but they are just slippery fish.I cast the frog along the edge of the spatter dock again, and had another hit. I set the hook, and another snakehead launched out of the water like a Polaris missile. This one was huge, and it jumped at least two feet out of the water.
That one got off the hook when it hit the water again, too. I guess my Carrot Stix doesn’t have enough muscle to drive the hook home at those distances. After that, it occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t cast as far as I had been casting. I was operating on the saltwater principle of keeping the lure in (on) the water for as long as possible. I was disappointed at not landing the bastard because I probably would’ve been the biggest fish I’ve ever caught, which isn’t saying much, but it was really cool seeing it jump so high out of the water. Again, I wish I had that on video, too. Meanwhile, Dad missed a few blow-ups, too.It was getting late, so I went back to the clearing where I hooked the nice bass and the snakehead. I had two more blow-ups that didn’t connect. One was a torpedo that threw a big wake as it headed toward my lure. It scared the crap out of me because it happened right by the boat, so I jerked the frog away before it connected. The second was another torpedo that charged at the frog from a distance. I kept my cool this time, but the fish blew up right behind the lure. Must’ve been near-sighted.
With time running out, I tied on the trusty Rebel Pop-r that I found on the Occoquan. On the second cast, I landed this guy:
What’s even more surprising is that I’m smiling in that pic.
Of course, the real battle began once I put it in my yak. It started freaking out, and its jaw eventually broke in the middle, which made the grippers much less effective. It kept breaking free and ricocheting around in my yak, but I kept managing to get my leg over it before it got into the water. After about 15 minutes, I managed to rip out a couple gill arches and get it into my cooler bag with Dad’s assistance, and we called it a night. Victory!!! By this point, everything within arm’s reach was covered with blood, gill bits, and slime. Everyone in 7-11 gave me a wide berth when I went in to buy ice. It was an awesome Father’s Day adventure. I don’t think Dad is as enamored about catching snakeheads as I am, but he really enjoyed catching nice fish and all the other antics. It was very reminiscent of the spastic fishing-catching/clubbing shenanigans we got into when I was a kid. The snakeheads at Leesylvania behave much differently than the ones in the Mattawoman based on my limited experience. The ones I’ve had hit at the Mattawoman exploded and thrashed on the lure like someone was shooting a machine gun in the water. The ones that hit at Leesylvania gave the lure a good pop but like a medium sized bass, then they started launching out of the water like breaching whales. Pretty cool. I can't wait to come back and try again.
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