Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Friday, August 09, 2013
Monday, August 13, 2012
Quebec trip report
Pics will have to suffice for now---
Briefly, walleye and pike fishing superb once again.
Bruin hunting option paid off for the team. More on that later.
Briefly, walleye and pike fishing superb once again.
Bruin hunting option paid off for the team. More on that later.
Sunday, July 01, 2012
Adirondack Mothers Day Idyll...
Epic, epic, epic. Which of course is why it has taken me well-nigh two months to post it up.
Camp Goreham on Dart Lake, N. of Inlet, almost to Big Moose Station. The good country. Not your 'sexy Gortex high peaks', where grim faced hikers follow each other around like dull-witted sheep on paths so well-worn that you can walk on autopilot.
No, this is brook trout, backwoods, and lakeside tavern country. Flatten the hills, replace the brookies with musky or walleye, and you could be in northern Wisconsin or Minnesota. But with history so thick you can sniff it when the breeze is just right. We added our layer.
Day 1 , while the good Tidball elders were still abed, Hannah, Tori, and Charlotte were down by the docks. Cold out. Wearing winter jackets. Big splash heard. Big empty space on the dock where my loverly daughter had just been standing. Hmmmm. She seemed to remain under the surface for an improbable length of time. Run down to the dock, fish her out, her squalling like an alley cat. Good experience for her to understand the interactive effects of 12' of 45F water, winter jacket, and knee high boots. Good thing she can swim, that one. Sigh. Walking back to the cabin for fresh clothes and something in the coffee to steady my nerves. Hmmm...that's a black bear. Right there. 30' away. More or less between us and the cabin. I angled the girls up the hill and he ambled on his way. This is all by 830 the first morning, you understand. Did I mention that in the poker game the previous evening, Julie got not one, but TWO four of a kind (queens each time) playing 5 card stud? Sheesh, good start.
While Mo hauled Keith all the way over to N Hudson, the kids and I and the poker queen climbed Black Bear Mtn (appropro of the day). Some good scrambles in a few places, but with Tori ably leading the way (occasionally even within sight of the rest of our ragtag team) we made the summit.
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| when did Hannah get so big? |
Day 2: Mother's Day Brook Trout Bonanza
Mo was so grateful to us for watching her chickies while she and Keith circumnavigated the 'daks the day before, that she volunteered to watch all four kids, while Julie, Keith and I set off for the sake of science to angle for the noble brook trout, which as everyone will tell you does NOT grow very big in these little Adk streams. Part of the reason there are not so many mounted fish on the tavern walls here as in the upper midwest: even a brookie of a lifetime (of anyone's lifetime, for that matter) does not carry the gravitas of even a decent sized musky. A different kind of place totem. We fished an unnamed tributary of an unnamed river that drained into an unnamed lake. Somewhere N of Utica, S of Ottawa, and W of Boston. Find it yourself.
First we ran into boo-boo bear...or his brother...en route.
And man did we find the brookies. Big ones. And we whacked 'em. Firmly hewing to Mo's "bring them home for science" project (a very cool study on nutritional analysis of wild game and fish for her Cornell Cooperative Extension project, but one that requires--crazy scientists--preposterous quantities of carnage--think about donating your next 97 woodcock, for example), we celebrated the opportunity revel in the temporary orgy of the 'catch and bonk' school of thought. Old school all the way. What kind of flies did I use? The kind that say "Mepps" on the blade.
And we caught big fish. One great productive riffle/bend, with nary a pirahna in sight. Keith got a 16.5" beauty...
And so did I.
And Julie of the "four of a kind" topped us both with a gorgeous 19.75" monster. Gotta teach that girl how to hold a fish to properly show it off. There will be time enough to admire later...this one is going on the wall.
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| ain't she a beaut? |
Cagey the ADK wilderness guide, sensing my emerging guilt at the orgy, and my wondering whether we had totally messed up the stream for future generations, assured me that this is the natural density of unhassled brook trout water. Set it aside for a day, and wallow--roll in it, soak it up good and savor.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Fishing the Amazon
Ever the nostalgic, I prepared for my own expedition into the Amazon to conduct “zoogeographical reconnaissance" by reading Roosevelt's Through the Brazilian Wilderness. In this book is a passage that must appeal to any piscatorial prospector:
"They are the most ferocious fish in the world. Even the most formidable fish, the sharks or the barracudas, usually attack things smaller than themselves. But the piranhas habitually attack things much larger than themselves. They will snap a finger off a hand incautiously trailed in the water; they mutilate swimmers—in every river town in Paraguay there are men who have been thus mutilated; they will rend and devour alive any wounded man or beast; for blood in the water excites them to madness. They will tear wounded wild fowl to pieces; and bite off the tails of big fish as they grow exhausted when fighting after being hooked."
"But the piranha is a short, deep-bodied fish, with a blunt face and a heavily undershot or projecting lower jaw which gapes widely. The razor-edged teeth are wedge-shaped like a shark’s, and the jaw muscles possess great power. The rabid, furious snaps drive the teeth through flesh and bone. The head with its short muzzle, staring malignant eyes, and gaping, cruelly armed jaws, is the embodiment of evil ferocity; and the actions of the fish exactly match its looks."
"I never witnessed an exhibition of such impotent, savage fury as was shown by the piranhas as they flapped on deck. When fresh from the water and thrown on the boards they uttered an extraordinary squealing sound. As they flapped about they bit with vicious eagerness at whatever presented itself. One of them flapped into a cloth and seized it with a bulldog grip. Another grasped one of its fellows; another snapped at a piece of wood, and left the teeth-marks deep therein. They are the pests of the waters, and it is necessary to be exceedingly cautious about either swimming or wading where they are found."
So I went for them, the native way-- a sapling, some old-school mono, and a very dull hook, tipped with chicken skin.
The piranha hide in schools in the flooded timber, to avoid predation from dolphins and others. This means you must fish for them in the margins, where the mosquitoes are fierce! They do hit the bait hard, and their teeth are indeed impressive. Note the steel leader below. In the end, though, I felt the mozzies were much more menacing then piranha, with no offense intended to Mr. Roosevelt.
The hook properly baited with chicken carcass, the idea was then to simulate a disturbance in the water to attract the fish ( a chicken falling out of the sky perhaps?). Flailing the waters with the tip of the sapling/rod for a few seconds seemed to do the trick-- the bites of piranha soon followed fast and furious. I noticed that they slash their heads about so quickly that hook sets are challenging, but success came with patience and perseverance.
The little buggers were toothy, all-right. We caught three different types of piranha. The silvers and spotted hit the bait harder, but were much more difficult to get a decent hook set on. They were also larger. None we caught were quite keeper sized, though.
In the end, despite the blustery prose of Mr. Roosevelt, the piranha did not overwhelm me with its "evil ferocity"-- in fact I was a bit crest-fallen by this, disappointed, after so much hype and anticipation. Yet, as I observed the fish, it was not lost on me that one might not enjoy the experience of, say, scraping or slicing a toe unawares while wading in these waters.
"They are the most ferocious fish in the world. Even the most formidable fish, the sharks or the barracudas, usually attack things smaller than themselves. But the piranhas habitually attack things much larger than themselves. They will snap a finger off a hand incautiously trailed in the water; they mutilate swimmers—in every river town in Paraguay there are men who have been thus mutilated; they will rend and devour alive any wounded man or beast; for blood in the water excites them to madness. They will tear wounded wild fowl to pieces; and bite off the tails of big fish as they grow exhausted when fighting after being hooked."
"But the piranha is a short, deep-bodied fish, with a blunt face and a heavily undershot or projecting lower jaw which gapes widely. The razor-edged teeth are wedge-shaped like a shark’s, and the jaw muscles possess great power. The rabid, furious snaps drive the teeth through flesh and bone. The head with its short muzzle, staring malignant eyes, and gaping, cruelly armed jaws, is the embodiment of evil ferocity; and the actions of the fish exactly match its looks."
"I never witnessed an exhibition of such impotent, savage fury as was shown by the piranhas as they flapped on deck. When fresh from the water and thrown on the boards they uttered an extraordinary squealing sound. As they flapped about they bit with vicious eagerness at whatever presented itself. One of them flapped into a cloth and seized it with a bulldog grip. Another grasped one of its fellows; another snapped at a piece of wood, and left the teeth-marks deep therein. They are the pests of the waters, and it is necessary to be exceedingly cautious about either swimming or wading where they are found."
So I went for them, the native way-- a sapling, some old-school mono, and a very dull hook, tipped with chicken skin.
 |
| Fishing equip, Amazon style. |
The piranha hide in schools in the flooded timber, to avoid predation from dolphins and others. This means you must fish for them in the margins, where the mosquitoes are fierce! They do hit the bait hard, and their teeth are indeed impressive. Note the steel leader below. In the end, though, I felt the mozzies were much more menacing then piranha, with no offense intended to Mr. Roosevelt.
 |
| Hook and wire leader. |
The hook properly baited with chicken carcass, the idea was then to simulate a disturbance in the water to attract the fish ( a chicken falling out of the sky perhaps?). Flailing the waters with the tip of the sapling/rod for a few seconds seemed to do the trick-- the bites of piranha soon followed fast and furious. I noticed that they slash their heads about so quickly that hook sets are challenging, but success came with patience and perseverance.
 |
| One of a number of red bellied piranha caught in the Amazon basin. Note beer can in lower right. There are universals in fishing throughout the world. |
The little buggers were toothy, all-right. We caught three different types of piranha. The silvers and spotted hit the bait harder, but were much more difficult to get a decent hook set on. They were also larger. None we caught were quite keeper sized, though.
 |
| A silver piranha. |
 |
| A spotted piranha. |
In the end, despite the blustery prose of Mr. Roosevelt, the piranha did not overwhelm me with its "evil ferocity"-- in fact I was a bit crest-fallen by this, disappointed, after so much hype and anticipation. Yet, as I observed the fish, it was not lost on me that one might not enjoy the experience of, say, scraping or slicing a toe unawares while wading in these waters.
And as I fished, I could hear the unmistakable sound of the exhalation of the intriguing pink dolphins of the Amazon, out in the open waters, cruising the edge of the flooded timber, hoping for errors or carelessness from the fish concealed therein. After a time, I mentioned to my guide Antonio that I was ready for a swim, ready to escape the mozzies. Antonio said "Yes, the dolphins are looking for you." So I joined them, out in the open water, floating with my head just under water to listen for their songs. Roosevelt's savage furry never befell me, but the siren songs of the Amazon have taken root.
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